On Breathing, Becoming, and Learning to Stay
âIâm so hungry⌠I feel like I just did the biggest workout of my life.â
That was the first thought that crossed my mind when I got homeâthis mix of physical emptiness and emotional exhaustion. Itâs funny how the body speaks so honestly when everything else feels overwhelming. In moments like this, Iâve learned not to ignore it, but to listen.
So instead of rushing into the next task or distraction, I paused and asked myself a simple question: Can I just do a quick yoga session?
Yoga has quietly become one of the most important parts of my daily life. What started as a small habit has turned into a grounding ritualâsomething that centers me after long days at work and helps me reconnect with myself.
There is something deeply powerful about stillness.
In those quiet moments, I focus on my breathâespecially the 5-5-5 technique: inhaling deeply for five seconds, holding for five, and exhaling slowly for five. Itâs simple, almost deceptively so, but it has become one of my most reliable tools when anxiety begins to surface. It brings me back to the present, reminding me that I am safe, that I am here, and that I can slow down.
Alongside this personal practice, Iâve also found unexpected strength through community.
Reading messages and comments from people who resonate with my journey has been both humbling and motivating. Words describing my content as âgrounded,â âhonest,â and ârealâ remind me that authenticity mattersâthat simply showing up as I am has value.
Those messages have become a quiet source of encouragement, especially on days when I feel uncertain. They remind me to keep going, not just for others, but for myself.
Recently, during a visit with my primary care provider, I had the opportunity to reflect more deeply on my anxiety. That conversation brought clarity to something I had been feeling for a long time but hadnât fully articulated: for most of my life, I have been living in survival mode.
Always moving. Always striving. Always asking, Whatâs next?
Now, for the first time, I find myself in a place of stability. Iâve achieved goals I once worked tirelessly toward. Iâve built a career as a nurse practitioner. By many definitions, Iâve âmade it.â
And yet, this sense of arrival feels unfamiliar.
Without the constant urgency to survive, Iâm left with a different questionâone that feels both freeing and unsettling: What do I do now?
This question shows up in even the smallest decisions.
Something as simple as choosing a gym has turned into an internal debateâcomparing prices, schedules, and amenities. One offers flexibility, another offers new experiences like wall climbing. I catch myself overthinking, weighing every option, trying to make the ârightâ choice.
But when I look back at the decisions that shaped my life, they were rarely made through overanalysis. They were made through instinct.
Transitioning from ICU nursing to becoming a nurse practitioner. Starting over. Taking risks. Moving forward without guarantees.
I didnât have everything figured outâI just trusted myself enough to take the leap.
And maybe thatâs what Iâm being called to do again.
Lately, Iâve been thinking about something biggerâa possibility that both excites and scares me: taking a step back from everything and going home to the Philippines. Maybe even taking a sabbatical. Maybe choosing, fully and unapologetically, to focus on myself.
Itâs not an easy decision.
But itâs a real one.
And in many ways, it reflects a deeper shift happening within meâa desire to stop living purely for achievement and start living with intention.
Even in the midst of this uncertainty, there are small, grounding constants.
Walking through San Francisco on a rainy Monday. Watching the city move more slowly under gray skies. Noticing how different everything feels when I allow myself to be present instead of preoccupied.
Returning home, rolling out my yoga mat, and simply breathing.
Stretching through the tension I carry in my bodyâmy back, my shoulders, my neck. Letting each movement release what I didnât realize I was holding onto.
I am not perfect at yoga. My poses are not flawless, and my flexibility is still a work in progress. But that is not the point.
The point is that I show up.
And right now, that is enough.
This journey has also reshaped how I define success.
For a long time, success was something externalâmeasured by achievements, titles, and expectations. It was something to prove, something to reach.
But now, success feels different.
Success is having the space to explore who I am beyond my profession.
Success is creating, healing, and growing at my own pace.
Success is choosing authenticity over perfection.
Success is being present in my own life.
Most importantly, success is no longer about constantly searching for the next stepâitâs about learning how to stay.
A recent trip to Hawaii reminded me of this.
In the past, Hawaii represented different things for meâescape, distraction, even healing during difficult times. But this time was different. I arrived not to run away from something, but to reconnect with myself.
Through consistent yoga practice, quiet mornings, and intentional presence, I found a sense of clarity that had been missing.
It felt like I was no longer searching for something outside of myself. I was finally coming home to who I am.
As I continue this journey, I am still figuring things out.
I am still navigating anxiety.
Still learning how to make decisions without overthinking.
Still growing into the person I am becoming.
But I am also learning to appreciate the process.
To appreciate the quiet.
To appreciate the uncertainty.
To appreciate the fact that I am hereâtrying, healing, and moving forward.
To everyone who has supported me along the wayâthrough messages, comments, subscriptions, and simply by watchingâthank you.
Your presence has reminded me that I am not alone.
And more than that, youâve helped me see that this journeyâimperfect, evolving, and deeply personalâis worth sharing.
Today, it is a rainy Monday in San Francisco.
And instead of rushing to figure everything out, I am choosing something different.
I am choosing to pause.
To breathe.
To be present.
Inhale for five.
Hold for five.
Exhale for five.
For now, that is enough.
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