Who empowers you? Inspiring stories from the PV Community

Project Vanity usually celebrates its anniversary with a big event. Since we can’t do that this year, I would like to share stories that I hope will brighten up your day! Last month, we asked our community to talk about the most empowering figure in their life. We all have one - maybe even a few - who made us better, stronger, as we go through our daily struggles. I chose two entries that spoke to me and perhaps you will be inspired as well. May this be a reminder that we have deep reserves of strength to be found in those who love us.

Happy reading!

“It takes a village” by Rae Regalado

They say to raise a child it takes a village. In my case it took three wonderful women.

Lilian

I was born second in my family, eight years after my older sister. Following me were two more sisters. All in all we were our mother's four angels. No seriously, we were all angels: Angela, Angelei, Angelu, and Angel.

Some doctors say that a mother should only have three C-sections in her life. My mother had four! And she never reminded us about how hard we were to bring into the world. She would only tell us how much she loved us and how we were blessings to her life. Before I was born doctors told her that there was a chance I would be born with mental defects. Instead of despairing the fact, she planned on taking classes on how to take care of a special needs child. Before I was even born my mother was ready to empower me. She was ready to love, protect, and prepare me for the world. I was born completely healthy, and when she told me this story when I was twelve years old I could only cry at how much my mother loved me.

Helen

I grew up with my family in Visayas far away from the Metro. When the time came for high school an opportunity arose for me to go to Manila to study at Philippine Science High School. I was a probinsyana and before this point I had never thought of leaving my province but my family could see something I could not. They saw that I would flourish in this school and that more doors would open for me if I attended. But like most families, they didn't want me to be alone.

My aunt in Manila welcomed me into her home with open arms. She treated me like one of her own children and drove me to and from school. She attended my school meetings, open houses and report card days. When college rolled around she wouldn't have me live anywhere else. When I graduated I thanked her and she said that there was no need to thank her because I was one of the good ones. In this unfamiliar place she was my rock.

Resa

People thought I was a little weird. I devoured National Geographic and Discovery Channel. I didn't need a library card because I would finish reading my books in the library. I was a nerd. And my aunt understood that completely. She was sort of my role model, everything she did I wanted to do. She attended PSHS, UP, and took Biology in college. And so did I. Where we differed was what I chose to do after college.

My aunt is a doctor and when I graduated from Biology everyone assumed I would become one too. She saw that my heart lay elsewhere. And when everyone was asking about med schools and NMAT review centers I could only shake my head and say that I wanted to go into research. And again my aunt understood me completely. She supported my decision and even lovingly reminded family that it was research that I wanted to go into.

These three women are sisters and they're all mothers to me. Strong women raise strong women and I am happy to say I come from a long line of them.

This is dedicated to Mommy Lilian, Tita Helen, and Tita Resa. To my Tres Marias I love you!

“I’m doing something right” by Anya Mendoza

My husband passed away before our baby turned one year old. I was still struggling through post-natal depression then so I sank deeper. I hurt so much that even the act of breathing felt painful. Mornings were especially hard because I didn't feel like waking up. But what can I do? I had this little person that needed me to survive.

The first couple of months were really tough. I fell deeper into depression because I felt guilty thinking I wasn't loving my kid the way a mom should. I worried that I wasn't taking care of her as much as I should.

One day, when she was a little over a year old, I was so mad at her for some minor mischief and I spanked her once but it was so hard her lap turned red with the mark of my hand. That image shook me to my core and I cried uncontrollably. Then my baby hugged me and tried to comfort me by letting me know that she was ok. Imagine a baby consoling the mother who hurt her. This jerked me out of my depression. I've never laid a hand on her again after that.

Now that she's a teen, I still worry that I may have "damaged" her during those dark times. I also worry that she may feel incomplete growing up without a father. She sometimes acts too mature for her age and so far, we've never had major problems. So I'm relieved whenever she acts her age - lazy and mischievous, which aren't as often as I think teens should.

She has since been my source of comfort and strength. And in turn, I've been trying my best to become a mom that she can rely on and be proud of.

Seeing that she's turning out to be a good person makes me feel like I'm doing something right despite that really tough time. And I'm comforted by the thought that things probably weren't as bad as I thought.

With love for all the mothers and daughters (and sons),

Anya