As a young 'batang 90s' gal, I wasn't exactly the social butterfly. I was more of an 'Introverted Inday,' the girl who'd prefer hiding behind the shabby 'sala set' drapes rather than face guests. I used to imagine fear as an orchestra, belting out the 'Cha-Cha-Chá' of uncertainty within my kiddie world. However, growing up meant learning to trade my makeshift maracas for a conductor's baton.
Seeing my discomfort, my mom handed me an old-school Polaroid camera. I guess she believed it would help me face the 'barangay fiesta' that was life. She'd tell me, "Fear is like an uninvited Kodak moment. It captures us at our weakest, but with time, its sharp edges turn blurry."
And boy, did I find refuge in her wisdom and that camera! It was like seeing the world through a pair of 'Titanic' 3D glasses. And as I played around with the focus, fear began to blur, making room for me to breathe and mingle a bit.
But fear, like the mabentang 'Alaska' condensed milk back then, proved to be stubborn. As I braved the storms of adolescence, fear became a mason, each 'kilig' embarrassment, rejection, and failure a brick in the wall around my heart.
My dad, though, would remind me, "Fear constructs walls, sure, but aren't walls just future ladders in disguise?" His words worked like a magic 'panutsa,' gradually sweetening my perspective and turning walls into steps leading to courage.
So there I was one day, backstage at our school talent show, clutching my violin like a 'TextPlus' pager. Fear was there, on the conductor's podium, bricklaying its walls, ready to snap its Polaroid. But then, I remembered my parents' words. I pictured the softened edges of my old photographs, envisioned the makeshift ladders, inhaled a gulp of courage, and strolled onto the stage.
Today, I've befriended fear. It's no longer the scary conductor, the intrusive photographer, or the prolific builder I thought it was. It's more like a recurring 'Wowowin' contestant in my life's storyline. Sure, fear still plays its eerie tunes, snaps uncomfortable pictures, and occasionally stacks a few bricks. But now, I've learned to retouch its pictures, climb its brick walls, and harmonize its symphony.
As the 'Gimik' of life continues, I'm no longer a terrified onlooker. I'm the 'batang 90s' conductor, wielding my baton of courage, orchestrating my own opus. After all, life's a fiesta, and I choose to dance to the rhythm of bravery.
0 Comments