i wonder what it feels like to focus on dreams, not survival

*Originally published in Medium.

At 17, I went to my 7am class with purple bruises climbing up both my arms and legs. Fresh souvenirs from a belt my father swung after discovering that I dared to have a boyfriend.

It was embarrassing. No, it was humiliating. A woman studying Finance in a prestigious university called Ateneo got bruises up her arms and legs because she liked someone, something most humans that age actually does.

My eyes were not only swollen but gone. My bones were aching, shivering like a deep vibration inside me, and still I aced my English quiz like the straight A student that I am. That same day I packed my bags and all the courage I could carry and left home. No plans, and nowhere to go, all I know is that: “Strangers and uncertainty felt safer than place I call home.

That’s survival: holding it all together while an internal hemorrhage hums beneath the surface. That I’m familiar. It’s a language I speak fluently. Dreams? Not so much. Dreaming feels like writing on my left-hand. Messy. Clumsy. Indelible.

Whenever I try to imagine a five-year plan for my life, my brain flicks on like a light switch: “But rent.” “But tuition.” “But, remember, you’re still that girl pulling her sleeves down over fresh bruises.”

Dreaming asks me to believe in the future. It makes me hope. But my muscle memory twitches every single time, like I have been set up to be crushed.

I know that my body has to feel safe enough before my mind can wander into that possibility. Sometimes, my bravest dream is eight hours of uninterrupted sleep which is impossible as a mom. Dreaming, probably feels like safely stretching into curiosity, losening my grip and unclenching my jaw. Like you’re walking into an open field instead of a narrow dark hallway.

But I don’t think it is floating. Dreaming is sovereignty. It’s your body not bracing for impact. It’s when you ask yourself “What do YOU want?” And the answer is not safety, not escape.

Something soft, and tender like:
To watch the waves.
To sleep under the stars.
To hug my child forever.
To write a story where no one gets hurt.