December 8, 2025 | By @inspireauthenticliving — FNP.Jas
Hi everyone, this is @inspireauthenticliving by FNP.Jas. Another cold San Francisco morning — 46 degrees, dry lips, and a rainbow somewhere in the fog. I’m heading to work, exhausted and anxious, but here. Still showing up.
Today I stress-ate four red velvet cupcakes and a slice of chocolate mousse cake. Not my best decision… but I’m being honest: sometimes surviving looks like sugar and frosting. Sometimes joy is temporary, but it gets you through the moment. And the realities of life? They hit different when you’re trying to hold a dream together.
I’m a Filipina Nurse Practitioner — carving a path that doesn’t fully exist yet for women like me. I need six years of physician supervision before I can practice independently. So I show up for my patients, because showing up for them is also showing up for me. It’s showing up for the future I’m still fighting for.
And yes… I’ve been second-guessing myself lately. These videos. These reflections. This openness. I worry — was it the wrong decision to put so much of my truth online? Professionally risky? Maybe. But mentally? It saved me. Sharing my story became a lifeline when anxiety tried to silence me.
I remind myself:
Girl… don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Even if you could’ve done better — you STILL did it. You took the step. You followed the dream.
If the universe decides that was the wrong turn, then I’ll just pivot again — stronger, wiser, softer where I need to be. I don’t break when I fall. I stand back up. Every time. Because resilience is rooted in my bones… and in the people who believe in me. My mom. My brother. The family I never want to disappoint.
Lately, anxiety has been loud. The unknown terrifies me. But the only thing I can control right now is letting go — trusting that what’s meant for me will come, even if the timing feels like a storm.
Lunchtime Diaries — Duboce Park Reflections
I’m outside, bundled up, eating an egg-salad sandwich and my weight-loss jelly in a freezing park because the sun is out and life is too beautiful to hide from. I tell myself:
I may be anxious — but anxiety does not define me.
She comes along for the ride, yes… but she no longer drives.
I’ve spent years letting anxiety dictate my days. Now I’m learning to just be — allowing joy, allowing rest, allowing sadness without shame. There are things I can control, and things I absolutely cannot. The ones I can’t? I surrender them to the universe… with shaky hands but a hopeful heart.
Because I still believe in the destiny I’m creating. Even with detours. Even with pauses. Even with fear.
I’m redefining myself beyond my credentials. I’m a healer. A storyteller. A human being in progress. And that makes me better at what I do.
Oh — and I’m going home to the Philippines in February. Growth also looks like reconnecting with where it all began. If you see me — come say hi. I’d love that.
After-Work Reflections — Choosing Life Again
14 patients today. My body hurts, my mind is tired, and all I want is sleep. But I also want to reflect — because no one should ever feel alone in their mental health struggles, especially those of us who spend our lives caring for others.
This season feels like grief, like loneliness, like losing friends and questioning my place in the world. The mid-life “What now?” is real, and it’s loud. But I’ve decided:
I want to prioritize joy. I want to prioritize family. I want to prioritize ME.
I have a dream — and I still want that dream to be possible. Change is coming. I can feel it. But it must be sustainable. It must be rooted in love, not fear.
Maybe I’ll fail. Maybe I’ll soar. Maybe I’ll lead in ways nobody expected. But at least I’m MAKING IT HAPPEN. At least I’m choosing life with purpose instead of letting life drag me along.
I may not ever win Miss Universe — but I’m building a universe where I make a difference. For my patients. For my community. For the next Filipina NP who needs to see herself represented.
Thank you for being here — even when I disappear. If you leave, that’s okay. When I return stronger, those who are meant to stay… will stay.
Happy Holidays. Thank you for walking this path with me. I love you all.
— @inspireauthenticliving by FNP.Jas Filipina Nurse Practitioner Diaries: Living with purpose. Making it happen. Trusting the detours.
Growing up in a Filipino household, I learned early that strength meant silence. You don’t talk about mental health. You don’t show struggle. You hustle, you provide, and you pray. And now, as a Filipina Nurse Practitioner, a brown woman in a profession where people like me rarely exist — that same strength gets tested every single day.
I treat anxiety in my patients… but I’m also learning to heal my own.
Here are 21 truths about anxiety — reimagined through my journey as a Filipina immigrant daughter, minority healthcare leader, and someone still figuring it out.
1️⃣ If anxiety decides your day — it’s the boss
As the youngest daughter and as a nurse in the ICU, I was taught: Don’t mess up.
When I became an NP, I kept waiting for the day anxiety would disappear. There are mornings when I stare at my scrubs, frozen. Being the only brown woman in a room full of suits and white coats can make my body think I’m walking into a battlefield. But now I say:I’ll bring you with me… but I lead. But life got bigger than that. I’m learning I can show up scared — and still show up. When anxiety rides along, I choose to drive.
When I started practicing, I thought, “I’ll feel confident once I stop being scared.” But anxiety whispered at every new assessment, every big decision.
The day I stopped waiting for calm…and showed up shaky anyway? That’s the day I took my power back.I don’t have to kick anxiety out to do meaningful work. I just have to keep walking.
2️⃣ Speak to yourself like a good coach, not a strict judgmental tita
No more, “Ano ba ‘yan? Why aren’t you better?”
Growing up, I heard: “Ay, don’t be dramatic.” “Strong girls don’t cry.”
I was raised with the Pinoy “tough love” approach: “Bawal magkamali. Don’t embarrass the family.”
But harsh self-talk didn’t make me strong — it made me scared. Now I talk to myself the way I talk to my patients: “Hey, you tried. You can improve. You are still worthy.”
Kindness makes courage possible.
I’m unlearning those voices and replacing them with my own: “Breathe. You’re doing your best. You’re worthy.” Now it’s: You’re learning, Jas. You’re trying. You belong.
3️⃣ Anxiety and excitement feel the same
Before a presentation, my hands shake. Am I scared? Or thrilled? I tell myself: This is your heart knowing you are stepping into more.
When my heart races before a big meeting with doctors or leadership, I remind myself: this is also possibility.
Before every milestone — board exams, first big job, meeting my partner’s family — my hear pounds like there’s danger.
Then I ask myself,
“What if this isn’t fear… what if this is excitement?
Same heartbeat.
Different story.
4️⃣ Microdose discomfort
I wasn’t raised to take up space — but I practice small acts of courage daily: raising my hand, introducing myself, advocating for patients like me.
As someone who identifies with lived experience existing in a world where we often are hidden, I was expected to be fearless. But courage didn’t come from leaping — it came from tiny steps: speaking up once in a meeting, asking a question in clinical, raising my voice for a patient who needed me.
Small bravery counts. It builds the big kind.
5️⃣ Anxiety is something I feel — not who I am
I am not “the anxious Filipina nurse.” I am someone who cares deeply — and my nervous system sometimes goes into overdrive.
Anxiety used to feel like my identity. “Anak, you’re just sensitive.” “Shy ka kasi.”But I’m not weakness. I’m a woman observing a very old survival system. And that makes me powerful.
6️⃣ Emotions are waves
I grew up near the ocean — now I surf the fear instead of drowning in it.
Panic feels like drowning. But waves rise… then fall. I tell myself: ride this — you’ve survived bigger oceans.
Emotions are waves — surf them.
In Filipino culture, we often swallow emotions: Tiisin mo… carry on.
But the more I fight anxiety, the harder it crashes. When I ride the wave instead — it always passes.
Always.
7️⃣ Act without guarantees
Filipino families want safety: stable job, predictable life. Becoming an NP? Starting a path with no role models? That was risk — and worth it.
As a minority in healthcare, I often feel like I must be: perfect, prepared, unshakeable. But perfection isn’t protection.
If I waited for certainty, I would still be studying, still hiding, still dreaming.
I choose action — even when my voice shakes.
Imposter syndrome says: What if you fail? Purpose replies: What if you lead?
8️⃣ Stop putting out fires that aren’t burning
As an immigrant child, I learned to plan for every disaster. What if we can’t pay rent? What if the car breaks down?
Now my brain tries to stomp out fires that don’t even exist. I’m practicing saving my strength for the flames that are real.
Filipino anxiety sounds like: “Anak, what if they judge you?”
“Anak, what if it doesn’t work out?” What if it does? “What if people talk?” I remind myself: most fears are ghosts — loud, but not real.
9️⃣ You don’t need certainty to move forward
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring — but I trust the woman I’m becoming.
Life was unpredictable growing up. One emergency… and everything changed. So uncertainty still feels dangerous.
But the truth is: I’ve survived every Y-outcome so far.
I trust future-me to handle life when it arrives.
1️⃣0️⃣ Anxiety was once protection
Hypervigilance helped me survive growing up poor, staying alert in unsafe environments. My nervous system is learning we are safe now.
Hypervigilance came from real danger — racism, homophobia, financial instability. I thank my body for surviving those years.
Hypervigilance was once my armor — those instincts kept my family afloat.My nervous system isn’t broken. It just hasn’t realized we’re safe now. Now, I teach it peace.
1️⃣1️⃣ Befriend the anxiety
I used to treat anxiety like a monster. Now I treat it like a scared little girl — the younger version of me — who learned the world can hurt.She doesn’t need fighting. She needs comfort.
Instead of “Go away,” I ask: What are you trying to protect me from?
Instead of “Go away,” I say: “I know you’re here because you want me safe.” Then I gently let it sit in the backseat.
1️⃣2️⃣ Don’t wait to feel ready
Healthcare needs more Filipina NPs — so I take anxiety to work with me.
My patients deserve someone who understands what it means to be unseen. So I show up — even when my voice trembles.
If I waited for confidence, I would have never become a nurse, never applied to NP school, never advocated for that patient crying in silence.
Purpose doesn’t wait for perfect emotions.
1️⃣3️⃣ Confidence comes from surviving
I was afraid of speaking up in front of physicians. Then one day, a doctor dismissed a patient’s pain — and I spoke anyway. Even when my voice trembled.
It didn’t go perfectly. But I walked out stronger.
Confidence = “I handled it,” not “nothing bad ever happens.”
If things go wrong and I survive anyway, I become stronger and kinder.
If something goes wrong and I don’t die? Confidence unlocked. +1 armor. +1 resilience. +1 softness.
1️⃣4️⃣ Protect what you feed your mind
Sometimes after a long shift, I doom-scroll: news, trauma videos, medical horror stories. Then I wonder why my chest is tight.I’m learning to choose content that nourishes hope — because my brain deserves peace too.
Less fear-based media. More voices that look and sound like me.
Less doom scrolling, less comparison, less “perfect life” feeds.
1️⃣5️⃣ Schedule worry, give it a time slot
Filipina anxiety loves to scream at 2am. I tell myself: We’ll worry about that later, Jas. Sleep first.
My brain loves to replay conversations, wonder if I’m disappointing someone, anticipate failure.
So now I write those worries down and tell myself, “Sige, we’ll worry about that at 8PM.”
Most fears expire when they’re not entertained.
1️⃣6️⃣ Count breaths, not problems
Filipinos aren’t raised with mindfulness —we’re raised with busyness. Sit still? My lola would think I’m sick.
But slow breathing and counting to 50 helps me return to my body — a place I rarely used to visit.
One inhale: “I’m here.” One exhale: “I’m safe.”
Repeat — until my nervous system remembers it too.
1️⃣7️⃣ The wrong people keep you small
Some relationships make you shrink: those who mock accents, dismiss cultural values, question your success.The right people help your nervous system exhale. They celebrate you — hips, curls, loud laugh and all.
If I have to shrink my culture, my accent, my joy — it’s not my community.
I spent years hiding myself, my authenticity, to make others comfortable. But real community celebrates the full spectrum of who I am — not just the parts they understand.
1️⃣8️⃣ Fire the insecurity guards
Let the compliments in. Let the achievements count.
As a woman of color in scrubs, I’ve heard: “Are you the assistant? The translator?” Even after introducing myself as the NP.
So when someone compliments my work, I used to respond: “No, I just got lucky.” “Maybe they were being nice.”I’m firing those inner guards. I’m letting the truth in: I earned my place.
When someone compliments me, I used to deflect: “Oh no, it’s nothing…” Now I try: “Thank you — I worked hard for this.”
1️⃣9️⃣ Not everyone is for you
Not everyone will understand my culture, my heart, or my mission for health equity.
When they back away, criticize, or underestimate… Salamat. They’ve spared me time and energy I can give to the communities I’m here to uplift.
Some people will leave when they realize you are no longer willing to be small. That’s not loss. That’s liberation.
Those who leave were never your people. Salamat, next.
2️⃣0️⃣ Real strength is letting people in
Growing up, vulnerability felt like weakness. You keep quiet. You endure.But my real healing happened when I allowed myself to lean on friends, my partner, colleagues who care.
We heal faster together. Find those who honor your softness.
Letting others support you is a revolutionary act.
Community is medicine. We heal faster together — when we let ourselves be witnessed.
2️⃣1️⃣ Own your story
I’m not “behind.” I am a trailblazer — carving a place where future Filipina NPs will stand with less fear and more belonging.
I’m not just the first — I am a foundation. One day, a young queer Filipina will walk into a clinic, see me, and think: “Oh… I belong here too.”
Yes — I grew up poor. Yes — I am a first-gen Filipina trying to open doors in healthcare. Yes — anxiety is still part of my journey.
But I’m not behind. I’m not failing. I’m not “the exception.”
I’m the proof that we belong in every room — as providers, as leaders, as healers.The story is mine to write. And I’m just getting started.
And that alone makes every anxious heartbeat worth it.
Why This Matters
Being in healthcare as a woman of color isn’t just a career — it’s carrying the dreams of the village that raised you. It’s the pressure of representation. It’s the responsibility to make spaces safer and more inclusive for those coming next.
I advocate for mental health because I didn’t see people who looked like me doing it.
I create accessible healthcare because my family didn’t have it.
I speak loudly now so that the next Filipina NP won’t be asked to prove she belongs — she’ll simply walk in and know she does.
Anxiety isn’t a flaw — it’s a survival skill that outlasted its war. My presence in this profession is not accidental — it’s history in motion.
I want every young Filipina who dreams of becoming a Nurse Practitioner to know:
You are allowed to take up space — even if your voice trembles. You are allowed to succeed — even when you’re scared. Your identity is not a barrier — it is your power.We are building a more inclusive future — one anxious, brave step at a time. 🇵🇭✨ Kasama kita. I’m with you.
If you’re like me…
Brown girl in white coat Provider from poverty Healer with anxiety Culture-bearer with big dreams
…this is your reminder:
Your voice matters. Your presence is needed. Your anxiety is not your limitation — it’s your proof that you care.
Let’s keep rewriting the story. For ourselves. For our patients. For every young Filipina who still thinks success belongs to someone who looks different.
By a Filipina Nurse Practitioner — Holistic Healing & Wellness
Hair is such a big part of our identity — especially in Filipino culture. Long, healthy hair is tied to beauty, strength, and confidence. So when we start to notice clumps of hair in the shower, thinning areas, or a receding hairline, it can feel scary and emotional.
But you are not alone — and hair loss is more common than we think, affecting both men and women of all ages.
Today, let’s explore:
Why hair loss happens
When it’s a medical concern
How we can support healthy hair regrowth
Hair Loss Is a Symptom — Not a Diagnosis
Hair shedding is normal. We lose 50–100 strands daily. But when you’re losing more than usual, seeing visible thinning, or patches… that’s when we need to look deeper.
Many causes are health-related and treatable.
Common Causes of Hair Loss
Genetics (Androgenic Alopecia)
Gradual thinning on the crown or widening hair part
Can start in your 20s and 30s
Family history plays a big role — but treatment exists!
Nutrient Deficiencies
Filipina diets can sometimes miss key nutrients due to stress and busy schedules.
The most common deficiencies linked to hair loss:
Iron — especially in menstruating women
Vitamin D
Biotin (Vitamin B7)
Zinc
Protein
Low iron is a major cause in women — ask for a ferritin blood test.
Thyroid Disorders
Hypothyroidism and hyperthyroidism can both cause:
Hair thinning
Dry hair and skin
Fatigue, weight changes
Tip: If hair loss comes with brittle nails and heavy periods, check your thyroid.
Stress, Anxiety, and Trauma
When the nervous system is overwhelmed, hair follicles shift into a shedding phase (Telogen Effluvium).
Triggers include:
Illness
Grief or heartbreak
Childbirth (postpartum shedding!)
Major stress
The good news: this type is reversible once your stress improves.
Scalp Fungal Infections or Dandruff
Conditions like seborrheic dermatitis or tinea (fungal) may cause:
Itchy, flaky scalp
Round bald patches
Inflammation at hair roots
Treatment often includes medicated shampoos or antifungals.
Hair Styling Practices
“Tiis-ganda” can damage hair root health:
Tight ponytails/braids
Frequent bleaching or relaxing
Heat styling
Hair extensions
Traction alopecia can become permanent if not addressed early.
How Filipina Nurse Practitioners Recommend Supporting Hair Health
Always rule out medical causes first — especially thyroid problems, anemia, or hormonal imbalance. Making lifestyle changes without proper testing is like guessing.
That said… here are holistic strategies that help nourish healthier hair from the inside and out:
FOOD FIRST
Choose nutrient-dense Filipino staples:
Malunggay (iron + vitamin C)
Eggs and salmon (protein + biotin)
Tahong or oysters (zinc)
Fresh fruits and vegetables for antioxidants
Try to minimize:
Crash dieting
Sugary processed foods
Supplements (Evidence-Informed Options)
Not medical advice — check with your healthcare provider before starting any supplement, especially if pregnant or on thyroid medication.
• Biotin (1–5 mg daily) — helpful if deficient • Vitamin D3 — supports hormone and immune health • Iron — only if ferritin is low • Zinc (10–25 mg) — supports hair follicles • Collagen peptides — may help strengthen strands • B-Complex — supports stress metabolism • Omega-3 fatty acids — scalp + anti-inflammatory support
Scalp-Focused Care
Use gentle shampoos — avoid sulfates
Try castor oil or coconut oil scalp massages 1–3x weekly
Medicated shampoos if flaking or itching
Consider Minoxidil for genetic thinning (safe when prescribed properly)
Stress Healing Practices
Holistic health = mind + body
Recommended:
Breathwork and meditation
Gentle movement like walking or yoga
Better sleep hygiene
Support circles and therapy when needed
Your nervous system needs peace for hair to grow.
When to Seek Medical or NP Consultation
Schedule a visit if you notice:
Sudden or rapid hair loss
Bald patches or scarring
Hair thinning + fatigue or cold intolerance
Postpartum shedding not improving after 6–12 months
Excessive shedding for more than 3 months
A Filipina Nurse Practitioner can order:
Thyroid panel (TSH, T3, T4)
Ferritin and iron studies
Vitamin D level
Hormone panel
Scalp evaluation
Finding the root cause leads to the right healing path.
Reminder: Hair Does Not Define Your Worth
Losing hair can feel heartbreaking…but you are still beautiful, still whole, and still worthy of being seen.
Healing is possible. Regrowth is possible. Confidence is not tied to hair strands — it already lives inside you.
Evidence-Informed Hair Products (Affiliate Picks by a Filipina Nurse Practitioner)
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate, I may earn from qualifying purchases. Your support helps me continue to provide free holistic health education.
Here are community-favorite products that support healthier, fuller-looking hair — especially when paired with lifestyle and medical evaluation.
Creates a smoother cuticle for less shedding during brushing.
Nurse Practitioner Tips When Using Hair Growth Products
Give each product 6–12 weeks to evaluate results Start one product at a time Pair with nutritional support and stress care If you suspect thyroid or anemia — test, don’t guess
Your hair is communicating what your body needs. Listen gently.
NP Tips When Choosing Hair Growth Products
What to look for
Why it matters
Biotin, keratin, saw palmetto
Follicle strength + DHT regulation
Sulfate-free formulas
Less scalp irritation
Caffeine, niacin
Improved scalp circulation
Natural oils (castor, coconut)
Nourish scalp + prevent breakage
Collagen peptides
Supports hair structure
Avoid daily tight ponytails, frequent bleaching, and harsh relaxers. Where possible, choose “heal + protect” over “cover + damage.”
Combine Outside Care with Inside Nourishment
A product alone won’t fix hair loss caused by:
low iron
thyroid imbalance
high stress
hormonal changes
scalp infection
Supporting your overall health, especially through nutrition and stress care, is key for regrowth success.
Final Note from Your Filipina Nurse Practitioner
Hair shedding is often temporary and reversible when you support:
Vitamin + mineral balance
Hormone health
Scalp care
Stress management
Rest
If you are unsure why you’re losing hair, schedule a check-in with your healthcare provider. There may be a clear medical reason your hair is asking for help.
Prioritizing Rest as Medicine for the Mind, Body, and Soul
As a Filipina Nurse Practitioner practicing in the U.S., I see every day how deeply sleep affects our mood, our body, and our ability to show up for life. In Filipino culture, many of us grow up hearing “tiisin mo na lang” — push through, keep going, don’t complain. But one of the most powerful truths in holistic healing is this:
Rest is not a sign of weakness — it’s a form of self-respect. Sleep is one of the most effective, accessible, and natural medicines we have.
When we allow our bodies to enter deep, restorative sleep, we support healing at every level: physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual. And when we neglect sleep, health begins to unravel — slowly at first, then all at once.
🌙 How Sleep Nourishes the Mind
🧠 Sharper Thinking & Better Memory Sleep strengthens neural pathways, making it easier to focus, learn, and make decisions.
❤️ Emotional Balance Well-rested brains regulate stress and anxiety more effectively, helping us feel grounded and resilient.
🛡️ Mental Health Protection Consistent, restorative sleep reduces risks of depression, burnout, and emotional exhaustion — issues many healthcare workers silently face.
🩺 How Sleep Heals the Body
Boosts immunity and recovery from illness
Reduces inflammation and supports pain relief
Balances hormones linked to weight, appetite & mood
Protects the heart by regulating blood pressure
Strengthens metabolism and reduces chronic disease risk
As a clinician who believes in mind–body–spirit healing, I advocate for sleep the same way I advocate for nutrition, movement, and mental health — all are essential pillars of wellness.
⭐ Clinically Recommended Sleep Habits
These are evidence-based strategies I often teach my patients:
1️⃣ Aim for 7–8 hours of sleep each night 2️⃣ Use your bed only for sleep (not TV or worrying) 3️⃣ Keep a consistent bedtime and wake time, even on weekends 4️⃣ Limit naps to 20–30 minutes, if needed 5️⃣ Keep your room cool, dark, and quiet 6️⃣ Avoid caffeine, alcohol, and nicotine 6 hours before bed 7️⃣ Skip heavy meals & intense exercise at least 4 hours before bedtime
These behavioral patterns help reset the nervous system and train your brain to expect rest.
🔄 My 2-Week Sleep Reset Protocol
A holistic approach to calming the mind & re-balancing the body
Wake up AND go to bed at the same time daily
Sleep in a dark & cool room — no TV, no bright lights
No screens 1–2 hrs before bed
No caffeine after 12 PM
Exercise 30 minutes daily, morning or afternoon
Final meal 4 hours before bedtime
Mindfulness / breathing / gentle yoga 10–20 mins daily
Warm shower about 1 hour before bed
Avoid alcohol — it disrupts deep sleep cycles
These small but powerful habits help restore natural circadian rhythm.
🌿 Supplements to Support Calm & Recovery
(Always speak with your healthcare provider before starting supplements.)
For two weeks, you may try:
Melatonin 3–5 mg 1 hour before sleep
Magnesium powder (e.g., CALM — titrate to tolerance)
Herbal sleep tea such as chamomile
Avoid daily use of Nyquil®, Benadryl®, or Unisom® — they interfere with restorative sleep.
🧘♀️ Holistic Practitioner–Approved Options
Stress, cortisol imbalance, and vitamin deficiencies can affect sleep. These products may support relaxation and overall wellness:
Again: Supplements = support 🌱 Sleep hygiene = foundation 🧘♀️
🌤️ Sleep Is Sacred
As a Filipina in healthcare, I honor the cultural strength we come from — resilience, hard work, alaga sa pamilya — but I also advocate for a new narrative:
✨ We deserve rest too. ✨ Healing happens when we slow down. ✨ Productivity is not our identity.
Your body is wise. Your brain is trying to protect you. Listen when it says “I need rest.”
When we sleep, we don’t just recover — we prepare ourselves to live fully again.
🌤️ Saturday Morning Reflections — December 6, 2025
Hi everyone. Good morning.
It’s Saturday, and I’m proud of us — we’ve actually been consistent with these daily reflections. Mornings have become my sacred space: coffee in hand, piano playing softly in the background, and a few slow, deep breaths to ease my mind into mindfulness and meditation.
As I think back on this week, I want to honor the good. After that long drive back from San Diego last weekend, I had a reset — a genuine moment of gratitude. I’m finally learning to notice beauty again. For so long, I’ve been focused on the struggle… always asking “why me?” but rarely stopping to appreciate how God has shown up for me — opened doors, provided, whispered reassurance.
I manifested this life years ago. I said I would become a nurse practitioner… and I did. Today, I’m living that reality. And now I’m dreaming even bigger — my own practice, a telehealth platform built on humanity and authentic care.
But I’ll be honest: the not knowing is stressful. Lately I’ve been questioning everything.
Last week, someone told me they found my videos. And it shook me. I know my reflections don’t reach many people — and that’s never been the point — but now I’m anxious about how sharing my personal journey could impact my career. It’s why I’ve paused posting on YouTube… even though I still record every day. These reflections matter to me. They help me feel seen — even if nobody is watching.
There’s also grief, fear, and uncertainty layered beneath it all. Losing a friend before Thanksgiving… wondering if I’m prioritizing the right things… questioning whether this path will ever take me where I want to go.
And here’s the truth:
✨ One of my biggest dreams has always been to travel the world with my mom. I’m a mama’s girl — that will never change.
But while I’m building toward independence, while I’m working hard for those six years of supervision… time keeps moving. Four more years means four more years of waiting. Four years I could be spending with her — actually living. I ask myself: What do I really value most?
Part of me wants to take a leap of faith. Part of me is terrified of letting go of something I worked so hard for.
I’ve even asked my family: “Would you be disappointed if I chose happiness? If I went home to the Philippines with Mom for a while?”
And the truth is… Both answers live in me. One part would feel like I’m giving up — another part would feel deeply proud.
Because what I’m building here isn’t just a career. It’s a movement: ▸ speaking openly about mental health ▸ ending stigma around vulnerability ▸ encouraging others to be their authentic selves ▸ reminding people that strength and softness can coexist
People have misunderstood me before. I’ve been accused of hiding things or not being honest enough. So this — these videos, these words — are me showing my truth. Even if it costs friendships. Even if it risks opportunities. Even if it’s scary.
At least I am showing up. At least I am not hiding. At least you can see how my mind works and understand me a little better.
Yes, I’m highly functional. Yes, I still struggle. Yes, I still overthink. But this is how I survive. This is how I process.
I don’t have the answers yet. I’m still deciding: Do I stay the course for security? Or jump toward joy and trust that I’ll find my way?
Maybe happiness won’t just be temporary. Maybe it will become joy. Maybe that joy will be enough to carry me forward.
For now, I’m letting the universe guide me.
I’ll keep working. I’ll keep dreaming. I’ll keep believing that the right path will reveal itself.
And I’m asking you — if you’re here reading or listening — to believe in me too. To support this mission of community, honesty, and healing. To like, comment, share, subscribe when I’m ready to show up again. Not because of the algorithm — but because every time one person believes, the world feels a little lighter.
This is day five of showing up for my voice. A commitment to keep going. Even when fear tries to silence me.
I’m hoping one day, someone will hold my hand through this creative leap and say: “I believe in you. Keep going.”
I didn’t get to film my “Lunchtime Diaries” yesterday — I was out with coworkers — but I’m back. These daily reflections have become small pauses in my life: tiny corners of time where I exhale, reset, and remember that I’m a human being before anything else.
This week has felt heavy. Anxiety clings to me as I wait for my Waymo rides, rush through the city, and try not to crumble under pressure. But it’s Friday. And even if I’m tired, I’m still grateful.
🌞 Morning Check-In
I’m headed to the clinic. Today, I’m hoping for calm — a slower heartbeat, a clearer mind, a little more presence.
Part of my anxiety comes from uncertainty. I don’t know where I’ll be a year from now. Or six. I don’t know if the universe is listening to what I’m manifesting. But I’m learning to surrender — to trust that what is meant for me will arrive in its time.
I want to feel proud of the person I’m becoming: not just as a provider, but as a human being.
Good morning, everyone. It’s me — Jas
Another day, another Waymo Diaries. I didn’t make it to Lunchtime Diaries yesterday — coworkers, lunch, life — but I’m here now, hopeful that today will be gentler. Lately, I’ve been stressed out, waiting on my Whimo, wondering about money, wondering about timing, wondering about life. But I’m heading to work. It’s Friday. I’m tired, but I’m here.
This week has been a blur — a beautiful blur — filled with patients and stories and humanity. One thing I’ve learned over years of being a nurse before becoming a nurse practitioner is this: patients are more than symptoms to chart. They are people trying to stay alive in a world that keeps shifting beneath them.
And lately? The anxiety is everywhere.
Tech workers losing jobs and insurance. Government workers unsure of their future. Families struggling with the cost of groceries — I see it at Costco, at Trader Joe’s — every little thing creeping upward. Stress rising with it. Mood shifting. Lives tightening.
Every day I sit with people who are scared — not about lab results, but about life.
And somehow, it has become an honor. Because they trust me with their fears. They allow me to witness their trembling hands, their fragile breaths, the moment their voice breaks. And when appropriate, I ask gently, “Can I hold your hands?”
Not everyone wants to be held. But sometimes, touch is a bridge back to being human.
That is the gift of having been a nurse first — I learned the healing in silence, the power of active listening, the sacredness of presence.
I don’t want to be remembered solely as “the mental health nurse practitioner” or “the LGBT provider” or “the trans healthcare NP.” Yes — that is part of my work, and I’m grateful. But my true brand — the legacy I’m building — is authenticity. I want to be remembered for being human.
Because being a provider doesn’t erase being a person. I feel their pain. I carry their stories home with me. I care deeply — sometimes too deeply. And that can hurt. But I never want to lose that part of me. I never want my patients to be afraid of me just because I wear a name badge.
I want them to know that if bad news comes, I will sit with them — human to human — not diagnosis to diagnosis.
Do I have all the answers? Absolutely not. I don’t know where I’ll be one year from now — or three. And I’m learning that not knowing is okay. I’m learning to surrender. To trust that the universe is still shaping the pieces I haven’t seen yet. And maybe letting go of control is the cure for my anxiety.
Later — finally — Lunchtime Diaries.
Mongolian beef in a quiet corner. Just me. My food. My thoughts. And honestly? Peace.
I used to be the girl who ate tiny bites on dates to look “cute.” Now? I take big bites. I enjoy the meal. I show up for myself. Because this — these little rituals — they’re what help me keep going through burnout and stress. They remind me that life is still beautiful. That food still tastes amazing.
ICU culture taught me how to devour a meal in ten minutes — thirty-minute breaks if you’re lucky. Funny how that discipline stays in your body years later. Funny how healing makes space again for pleasure.
Today’s reflection: Vulnerability is not a burden. It is a gift.
So many of my patients say: “I don’t want to bother my friends.” “I don’t want to be a burden.”
I understand. I’ve been there. When I was drowning, I thought asking for help made me weak.
But I am here today because I asked.
A friend from back home in the Philippines — someone I haven’t seen since 1999 — told me: “I’ve been watching your videos. I was worried. Did I ever reach out when you needed help?”
And that message — years later — reminded me: People do care. Sometimes we’re just too deep in the dark to see the hands reaching toward us.
When we ask for help, we are giving someone the opportunity to show up. We are giving them a chance to save us. A chance to love us in our most vulnerable form.
We are so used to hearing stories that end in tragedy — families saying, “I wish I knew.” “I wish they had told me.” “I wish I could have helped.”
So what if we gave them that chance before the regret?
Mental health struggles are not attention-seeking. They are life-seeking.
When someone says, “I’m hurting.” they are saying, “I want to stay. Please help me stay.”
I’m nervous talking into a camera in public. People probably wonder what I’m doing — smiling, crying, rambling into my phone. But guess what?
I’m in my I-don’t-give-a-f* era.**
Because sharing my truth helps me survive it. And if my truth helps someone else survive too? Then this is exactly where I’m meant to be.
So I’ll keep recording. Keep reflecting. Keep showing up — messy and real.
Because we deserve to exist as humans — not performances.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for seeing me.
Go step into the sunlight. Get that vitamin D. Breathe. Live. Ask for help. Love loudly. Eat big bites.
And don’t forget your phone, keys, or wallet.
I love you guys. Until the next Filipina Nurse Practitioner Diaries. 🌈✨
It’s Tuesday — my work-from-home day — which means I get to breathe in my own space. I show up for my patients with compassion, even when I’m still learning to show up for myself. Between inbox messages and phone calls, I catch moments of stillness… and today, I needed them.
The coughing, the throat-clearing — that’s anxiety, I know it. My body speaks before I do. I’m grieving someone I loved, someone who left… and in that leaving, I gained clarity. What I gave wasn’t reciprocated. And that’s okay.
I’ve been gaslit. Unseen. Unheard. Yet here I am — still choosing softness.
Losing someone doesn’t mean losing me.
This is my soft era. This is me choosing openness, even when it hurts. This is me building community, laying healthier foundations, and exploring who I’m becoming.
This is me — the real Jasmine. Not perfect. Not filtered. Not edited. Just human.
Even when others walk away, I refuse to abandon myself.
I let myself feel: • It’s okay to grieve. • It’s okay to be lost. • It’s okay to fall apart and rebuild again.
I joke about being a “delulu YouTuber” with 30 loyal viewers — but those 30 see me. They believe in authenticity. They remind me that it’s worth being visible.
Sharing my truth is terrifying… but necessary.
Mindfulness, Meditation & Relearning What Matters
A Personal Journal Entry — Extended Version
Over these past few weeks, mindfulness and meditation have become the quiet anchors holding me together. Every morning, before the world pulls me in a thousand directions, I sit still with myself. I breathe. I listen. I reconnect with all the parts of me I used to silence — my truth, my rawness, my sensitivity, my emotions, my softness, my ability to love deeply.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not running from my feelings. I’m sitting with them. Naming them. Honoring them.
People stigmatize emotions so easily.
“Attention-seeking.” “Too much.” “Dramatic.”
But emotions are human. Emotions are information. Emotions are truth.
And I’m learning to stop apologizing for mine.
Changing My Environment to Save My Sanity
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this year is this: If the world feels overwhelming, step out of the room.
Literally.
I started taking “lunchtime diaries” walks because I realized I couldn’t stay locked inside a clinic room or behind a computer screen for hours. My body knew before my mind did — I needed sunshine. I needed fresh air. I needed to see something alive and moving instead of blinking notifications and EMRs screaming my name.
So I step outside.
I let the sun warm my skin. I listen to the wind. I watch people going about their day — laughing, rushing, living.
And every time I do, I’m reminded: There is a world outside my burnout. There is beauty outside my exhaustion. There is life outside my deadlines.
Yes, I’m saving for the future. Yes, I dream of stability, maybe even a home one day — something I can pass on to future kids or grandkids. But what’s the point of saving for life if I’m not living life right now?
I ask myself that all the time.
I don’t want to live decades sacrificing joy for a version of “someday” that may never come. I want to live today — in small ways, simple ways, soulful ways.
And part of honoring myself means acknowledging my grief, too.
I’m grieving the loss of a friend — not through death, but through distance, silence, and the realization that I wasn’t a priority in his life. And while that hurts deeply, I’m proud of how I’m showing up for myself through it. I let myself feel. I let myself cry. I let myself be confused. I let myself be human.
And then I step outside. And the world holds me while I heal.
Learning to Believe in Myself Again
Creating content has been a strange, emotional journey. There are days when I record videos and my throat tightens from anxiety. I hear myself clearing my throat over and over — a small but real sign of how nervous I still am.
I wasn’t always like this. I used to hide everything behind a quiet smile, telling only my closest friends how I really felt. Being vulnerable online feels like walking outside naked — no armor, no mask, just my story, my truth, my voice.
Sometimes I second-guess myself:
“Should I even post this?” “What if people judge me?” “What if I look stupid?” “What if I overshared?”
But every time I hit upload, I remind myself: I’m allowed to be seen. I’m allowed to take up space. I’m allowed to be imperfect. I’m allowed to exist out loud.
And even if my words come out messy, even if my thoughts go in circles, even if my videos aren’t perfectly polished — that’s who I am.
Raw. Imperfect. Growing. And still worthy of being seen.
The Darkest Moment I Survived
There was a time when the darkness inside me felt heavier than everything else in my life. A time when my thoughts scared me. A time when I felt like I was drowning in silence.
I posted something vulnerable online — not for attention, but for connection. A cry for help that I hoped someone, anyone, might hear.
I didn’t expect the person who answered.
It wasn’t my closest friends. It wasn’t the people I thought would show up.
It was a coworker. Someone I barely interacted with.
The police knocked on my door — a welfare check. And I remember freezing, not out of fear, but out of shame.
Shame that I posted. Shame that I felt so weak. Shame that someone thought I needed saving. Shame that I wasn’t “holding it together.”
But why do we shame ourselves for needing help?
Why do we shame seeking attention when sometimes attention is the one thing that saves a life?
That moment saved mine.
To this day, I don’t know who made the call. But I want to thank them. Because they chose to care when they didn’t have to. They chose to act when others stayed silent.
Their one action gave me another chance to exist. Another chance to heal. Another chance to be here, sharing this story with you.
What I Tell My Patients About Mental Health
As a Nurse Practitioner, I talk about mental health every day. And one question I always ask during new patient visits is:
“Who would you call if your thoughts ever became overwhelming?”
Most say family or friends. But then I ask:
“What if you can’t reach them?”
Because I know — sometimes the people you expect won’t show up. And sometimes the ones you barely know will.
So we talk about safety plans. We talk about 988 — the mental health hotline. We talk about the emergency room when you don’t feel safe. We talk about staying around people instead of isolating. We talk about telling someone because someone always cares.
You are not too much. You are not a burden. You are not unlovable. You are not alone.
I’m here because someone saw me when I was fading. Let this be a reminder that you matter too.
The Beauty in My Everyday Life
Despite everything — the grief, the healing, the transitions — my life is still full of small joys that keep me grounded:
• Morning walks with my little Dots, her tiny paws tapping on the sidewalk • Filipino breakfasts that comfort my soul — especially alamang (alamang is life, always) • San Francisco fall weather — crisp air, orange leaves, sweaters, warmth • Cooking, even when I burn something (often) • Stopping to watch sunlight hit the trees just right • Being outside, breathing, existing • Finding beauty in the quietest parts of my day
These small moments keep me alive. They remind me that life is not just the big things — it’s the little ones that save us.
Still Grieving, Still Loving
Losing my friend emotionally — realizing the connection wasn’t what I thought — has been its own kind of heartbreak.
I cared deeply. Maybe more than he knew. Maybe more than he ever cared for me.
And now I see clearly: I wasn’t a priority. I wasn’t chosen. I wasn’t valued the way I valued him.
That truth hurts. It stings in places I can’t even put into words.
But clarity is also healing.
Even though he’s gone, I still love him in my own quiet way. Not in a desperate way, not in a clinging way, but in a gentle, soft, mature way — wishing him happiness from afar, rooting for him silently.
That’s who I am — loving, loyal, wholehearted. I don’t regret loving him. I only regret not loving myself sooner.
Rebuilding Myself at 37
I’m learning that I’m allowed to choose myself. I’m allowed to rebuild. I’m allowed to start over.
For years, I shaped myself to fit into other people’s expectations. I built my identity from what others wanted from me — softening myself here, shrinking myself there, performing roles that never belonged to me.
And eventually, I lost myself.
Now, at 37, I’m finding my way back — slowly, beautifully, bravely.
I am rebuilding myself with authenticity. With emotional courage. With softness. With honesty. With love.
People may leave. People may reject me. People may misunderstand me.
But I haven’t left myself. I am still here. And that is what matters most.
Ending the Day With Gratitude
So thank you — for reading, for watching, for listening, for being here.
This is my message. This is my truth. This is my story. This is my heart — raw, messy, honest, whole.
And sharing it feels good. Really good.
Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for hearing me. I love you. Have a beautiful day.
Leaning Into Vulnerability: My Journey Back to Therapy as a Nurse Practitioner
As a nurse practitioner, anxiety with panic is something I am painfully familiar with. The “what ifs,” the fear of missing something important, the spiraling thoughts that start quietly and then take over — these aren’t just symptoms my patients describe. They’re symptoms I’ve lived, managed, and sometimes survived.
Functional depression and anxiety with panic attacks are realities I share with many of the patients I care for. And the truth is, acknowledging that overlap has pushed me to reevaluate the way I show up — both for them and for myself. It’s finally time for me to become a better person, a better provider, and a better advocate for my own healing.
Returning to Therapy — This Time With Honesty
Starting talk therapy again was a decision rooted in necessity, but also humility. My past experiences were unhelpful, and I carried resentment, skepticism, and a sense of hypocrisy. How could I tell my patients to “give therapy a chance” when I had never fully surrendered myself to it?
This time was different.
I shared my fears, my weaknesses, my vulnerability. I talked openly about grieving the loss of a friend — someone whose sudden distance left me confused and hurt, a wound I am still in the process of healing. I talked about my fear of my own emotional extremes, the ways I oscillate from soaring highs to crushing lows. I described these highs as grandiose emotions — not because I am manic, but because I am finally learning what it feels like to believe in myself, to think I have something to say.
My therapist said it best: maybe it just feels unfamiliar. Maybe confidence — authentic, earned confidence — feels foreign when you’ve spent years minimizing your own voice.
And I realized: the reason I’m giving therapy another chance is because it lets me see myself through a different perspective, one that isn’t hyperfocused, self-critical, or catastrophizing. It’s teaching me that my voice matters. My story matters. And that sharing it could make someone else feel less alone.
The Medication Journey — And the Supplements That Help
Like many of my patients, I’ve navigated the daunting maze of mental health medications.
Lexapro helped, but it numbed my emotions to the point where I didn’t feel like myself.
Wellbutrin heightened my anxiety so severely that it landed me in the emergency room — an experience both terrifying and humbling.
Prozac, my current medication, has been stabilizing. It has leveled the emotional waves of functional depression and anxiety just enough for me to breathe again.
I also take gabapentin as needed, though its impact on my focus makes it difficult to rely on while working.
Because of that, I’ve incorporated non-pharmacological supplements — something many of my patients ask about, and something I wanted to personally understand before recommending.
Ashwagandha has helped regulate my stress response and support cortisol balance. It has grounded me during moments when my body jumps into fight-or-flight for no reason.
These supplements aren’t magic, but they’ve been helpful tools alongside therapy, medication, and lifestyle strategies.
Why I’m Sharing This
As I continue this journey, I am committed to building a stronger foundation for myself — one grounded in honesty, vulnerability, and resilience. I hope this becomes an example to others, including my patients: that healing isn’t linear, that being open is powerful, and that vulnerability is a strength, not a flaw.
I’m excited for who I am becoming. I’m proud of the courage it takes to start again. And I hope my voice reminds someone out there that theirs matters too.
“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about un-becoming everything that isn’t really you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.” — Paulo Coelho
There are seasons in life where everything feels like shedding. Where the “becoming” isn’t forward, but inward.
This past year, I found myself in that season—the one I now call my softness era.
It isn’t about weakness, fragility, or aesthetic softness. It’s about finally choosing gentleness in a world that once rewarded my overworking, my silence, my survival instincts, and my ability to “hold it all together.”
As a Filipina Nurse Practitioner in San Francisco, I’ve spent years learning how to care for others—clinically, compassionately, completely—while quietly forgetting that I also needed care. Our culture teaches us to stretch ourselves, to be strong, to keep giving even when we are empty. Our profession reinforces it: the long shifts, the pressure to be perfect, the expectation to show up even when our hearts or bodies are tired.
But healing—true, embodied healing—taught me that strength is not always loud. Sometimes strength is choosing softness. Choosing rest. Choosing honesty.
Sometimes strength is un-becoming.
Un-becoming the roles that no longer fit
This past year, I lived through a storm of anxiety, burnout, and fear. For nine days straight, panic attacks became my alarm clock. I cooked Filipino comfort food trying to self-soothe, but healing didn’t truly begin until I went home to San Diego—where my family hugged me without asking for explanations.
It was also the year I learned the power of asking for help. I reached out on Instagram when I felt unsafe, and it was my coworkers—the nurses I worked alongside—who called the police for a welfare check. It saved my life. It reminded me of the quiet love that exists in community. And it taught me that un-becoming sometimes looks like releasing pride, releasing the need to “handle it all,” and letting others hold you.
Softness as reclamation
When I returned to San Francisco, something in me shifted. I was no longer interested in hustling for worthiness. I was no longer willing to exist in spaces where people only saw a curated version of me—“the strong one,” “the achiever,” “the one who made it.”
I wanted to live a life that felt honest. I wanted to share my truth, not hide behind it.
So I started documenting real moments:
Lunchtime diaries where I breathe, reflect, and let myself exist
Day-in-the-life vlogs showing the simple joy of working from home on Tuesdays
Narratives about anxiety, healing, and the Filipino concept of “coming home”
Gratitude-filled walks in San Francisco, thinking about resilience and second chances
Soft life reflections about family, home, and my dream of one day returning to the Philippines
My softness era became both a personal transformation and a practice of storytelling.
Being a Filipina NP means carrying many stories
In the clinic, my patients trust me with their most vulnerable truths: their fears, their pain, their bodies, their losses.
In my own life, I hid my truths for years because I didn’t want to be a burden. But now—through writing, vlogging, and creating—I’ve learned that my story isn’t a weight; it’s a bridge.
Filipina women are natural storytellers. We carry the memories of our ancestors—women who nurtured families, cared for communities, and found resilience in softness long before it was a trend.
My softness era is honoring them too.
Purpose found me in the un-becoming
When I started sharing my healing, it wasn’t for views, growth, or attention. It was out of survival. It was me saying: “This is my truth. This is who I am. If even one person feels seen because of it, then this pain meant something.”
And people did feel seen. Nurses. Filipinas. Students. Women navigating anxiety. People far from home. Strangers who suddenly felt less alone.
That’s when I realized: My purpose is in the storytelling. My purpose is in the honesty. My purpose is in showing the world that authenticity heals. My purpose is in reminding others—and myself—that softness is power.
I am still here because of truth. Because of community. Because of un-becoming what the world demanded and becoming who I was always meant to be.
This is the blog. This is the diary. This is the life I’m building.
I am a Filipina Nurse Practitioner. I am a woman in her healing era. I am someone who survived darkness and still chooses to create. I walk forward grounded in truth, power, and purpose— and I bring you along, hoping you find pieces of yourself in my reflections.
Welcome to my journey of softness. Welcome to the un-becoming. Welcome to who I truly am.
Hair Loss Is a Symptom — Not a Diagnosis
Common Causes of Hair Loss
Genetics (Androgenic Alopecia)
Nutrient Deficiencies
Thyroid Disorders
Stress, Anxiety, and Trauma
Scalp Fungal Infections or Dandruff
Hair Styling Practices
How Filipina Nurse Practitioners Recommend Supporting Hair Health
FOOD FIRST
Supplements (Evidence-Informed Options)
Not medical advice — check with your healthcare provider before starting any supplement, especially if pregnant or on thyroid medication.
Scalp-Focused Care
Stress Healing Practices
When to Seek Medical or NP Consultation
Reminder: Hair Does Not Define Your Worth
PURA D’OR Anti-Thinning Biotin Shampoo & Conditioner
PURE RESEARCH Liquid Biotin & Collagen Drops
Cosmpro Dark Brown Natural Hair Dye Shampoo
Mane ’n Tail Repair ’n Strengthen Shampoo & Conditioner
Nurse Practitioner Tips When Using Hair Growth Products
Give each product 6–12 weeks to evaluate results
NP Tips When Choosing Hair Growth Products
Day in the life of a Filipina Nurse Practitioner 