12/05/2026
When I first moved to Brunei, honestly, feeling ko hindi ko kakayanin. ๐ฌ
Ang tahimik. As in tahimik-tahimik. Coming from the Philippines na laging may ganap, may family nearby, may biglaang labas, may chika, may ingay ng buhay, biglang parang nag-slow motion lahat dito. ๐น
And yes, technically, โmalapit lang namanโ ang Pilipinas. 2 hours lang by plane. Same time zone pa. No jet lag, no major adjustment sa oras. On paper, parang OA lang kung sabihin mong malayo.
But emotionally? Iba pa rin.
Iba pa rin yung sanay ka na anytime may family kang matatakbuhan. Iba yung comfort na alam mong malapit ang first family mo, yung parents, siblings, cousins, titas, titos, or whoever made home feel like home. Iba yung feeling na kahit hindi mo sila laging kasama, alam mong andiyan lang sila.
Here, I had to adjust to a kind of quiet I was not used to.
Quiet mornings. Quiet afternoons. Quiet weekends. Quiet moments where you suddenly hear your own thoughts a little too loudly. And as an extrovert, a mom, a wife, and someone na sanay sa buhay na may kasamang noise, laughter, family, and random ganaps, it felt really lonely at first.
But little by little, I started learning.
I learned that quiet does not always mean empty. Sometimes, quiet gives you space to breathe. Sometimes, it teaches you to create your own joy. Sometimes, it forces you to meet a version of yourself na hindi mo nakikilala sa sobrang ingay ng old life mo.
This journal is my attempt to document that.
Not in a perfect, aesthetic, always-grateful way. But in a real way.
The funny days. The lonely days. The โgusto ko umuwiโ days. The โokay, Brunei is actually cuteโ days. The motherhood moments. The culture shocks. The tiny wins. The quiet lessons.
Because maybe surviving a quiet country is not about becoming quiet yourself.
Maybe it is about finding new places for your voice to go.
Ikaw, have you ever had a โkaya ko ba talaga dito?โ season too? Tara kwentuhan tayo!! ๐๐ป๐ซถ๐ป
