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I’m so far behind this month! Eek!
Blunt is a word that I know well.
And somehow I’m shit at executing it at will.
It simply spills out of me like a spell, to exact a spiritual wound on the one who dared to cross me.
I find myself holding back a lot of the time. I’m a people pleaser to the point of taking abuse and seething silently in mental distress until it’s too late. I explode and somehow I’m always the one left looking like the fool even if it’s justified.
It’s the cross that I bear every day in my blood.
Utang na loob
I had never heard of this Tagalog phrase until Malaka Gharib asked about it on Twitter recently. It blew my mind. The literal translation is “a debt of one’s inner self.”
Natural born American
I’m not on board with the textbook, clinical definition of the phrase. Especially on Wikipedia. That’s the problem with translations of any foreign language even ones you don’t speak but are somehow inside of you from birth. There are nuances there. Little bits of misery folded inside the atoms, unfurling each time it steamrolls over you.
Utang na loob to me is a command, a demand of my emotional and actual time, my money, my spirit, to the royal We. But We’ll be damned if you ask for anything in return. You give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give and you give
Because that’s what you’re supposed to do in this house. Oh, you think the people out there can take better care of you than We? Ha. Go ahead. And We’re going to act like the care and feeding and acknowledgement of your mental health is not a Thing to worry about because We went through the same thing. And now it’s your turn to continue turning the wheel. And that’s just the way it is.
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