I should be doing a hundred other things right now. I should be posting marketing ads for my business. I just finished shooting 15 products and my back hurts like crazy. I have tons of photos, reels, and static ads waiting to be edited. Deadlines. Deliverables. Content calendars for clients.

But here I am.

Because my thoughts are louder than my to-do list. And when they get this loud, I know I need to write. I want to share something humbling. Not the full story, not yet. The deeper parts, the personal testimonies… those are for another post. A post for when I’m ready to fully let it out.

But this part? This part I can share.

I truly believe God is working on me right now.

There are a lot of obstacles in my life at the moment. And usually, my depressed brain would take over. It would tell me I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. It would whisper that all my prayers are just bouncing off the ceiling.

“You’re praying… but God isn’t listening.”
“God can’t hear you.”

Those dark thoughts can get loud.

But something shifted in 2024. That’s where everything started.

And looking back now, I realize… maybe God wasn’t ignoring me. Maybe He was humbling me. Preparing me. Stripping things away so I could finally handle what I’ve been praying for.

The Years I Thought Were Breaking Me Were Actually Building Me

In 2024, everything changed for me and my family.

Our lifestyle shifted almost overnight… drastic, uncomfortable, humbling. All I can clearly remember from that season is breaking down every single night. No sleep. No real rest. Just exhaustion and tears. I kept praying, but it felt like my prayers were just falling back down on me. No answers. No relief. Just silence.

We had to move houses.

The home we were living in became too hard to maintain, not just financially, but emotionally and physically too. It was too big for a family of three. Three floors. Two kitchens. Four bathrooms. Three bedrooms. A studio. An office. A garage. All inside a secured, gated executive village.

On paper, it was everything.

But reality was different. The traffic going in and out drained us. The noise from neighbors, who acted like they owned the entire property, added tension. The utility bills kept climbing. The pressure kept building. And slowly, it started breaking me. It was the best house we ever lived in. My favorite. And that’s coming from someone who has moved nine or ten times, locally and abroad.

I’ve lived in Sydney. And when I say I’ve moved a lot, I mean it. More than twice. Probably more than I even want to count. It felt like every season in Sydney, I was packing my bags again. Summer heat, autumn winds, winter chills, spring blooms… and there I was, taping boxes, folding clothes, starting over. Again and again. I got used to the sound of bubble wrap and tapes. I got used to not fully settling in. I learned how to rebuild quickly. How to detach quickly. How to survive transitions.

But just because you’re used to moving doesn’t mean it gets easier.

Every move still carried a little grief. A little “I thought this was it.” A little piece of a dream folded up and placed inside a box. So when I say that house was my favorite, I mean it. Our house in Greenwoods was something we truly wanted and needed at that time. I believed it was a blessing. After all those seasons of packing and leaving, I finally thought… this one might be different.

But I didn’t realize that God would use that same blessing to humble our small family. Losing that house took a toll on me. Add work stress and everything else happening behind the scenes, it crushed me mentally, physically, emotionally. I felt like I was going crazy. I prayed every single day. But nothing seemed to change.

Until I reached the point where I was ready to give up. My prayer became desperate. “Lord, please give me rest. Take me if You have to. But if You still have plans for me… just give me rest. I don’t want to think anymore. I just want rest.”

And guess what?

God answered.

I ended up in the hospital, where doctors literally took turns making me sleep. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you probably know this part of my story. But if you’re new here, here’s the full story of that season:

From ER to Recovery: The Wake-Up Call I Needed
That was the beginning of something I didn’t understand at the time. But now I do.

Answered Prayers Don’t Always Look Like Blessings at First

I was a brave girl even before I left for Australia. I had nothing with me but dreams… big, bold, almost unrealistic dreams, believing I could make it out there. And I did. I built something. I achieved things I once only prayed for. I truly thought I had my life together. Until God humbled me.

Not just once. In so many ways.

My relationships failed. Every breakup felt life-altering, like pieces of me were being pulled apart. Each one changed me. Each one broke something in me. I want to share that testimony too . I will, but that deserves its own story. Then came the diagnoses.

A brain cyst.
Bipolar Disorder.
Suicidal thoughts I never thought I would admit out loud.

I kept asking, “Why me?”

Why, when I worked so hard? Why, when I was trying to do everything right? Why, when I thought I was already strong enough? And just recently, I realized something.

God wasn’t punishing me. He was redirecting me.

All the silence. All the closed doors. All the unanswered prayers. All His “No’s.”

They weren’t rejection. They were redirection.

I thought I had everything figured out. I was proud of my achievements. Proud of what I built. Proud of how far I came from that girl who left home with nothing but a suitcase and faith. But after all of that… God stripped it away.

Then 2025 came. And God took something from us. He literally took life.

It was devastating. Heartbreaking in a way that changes you permanently. And yet, in 2025, I found myself praying even more. Aside from my prayers at church, I began my 12 midnight prayers,  something I do ritually now. When the world is quiet and my thoughts are loud, I kneel and pray.

But if I’m being honest? 2025 was not a good year.

Even after the hospital. Even after surrendering. Even after praying harder than I ever have. He started stripping things away the moment I got confined. And until now, I still have nights where I break down. Because if I look at it naturally, logically… life hasn’t exactly gotten “better” since then. At least not in the way I expected. And sometimes, I still don’t understand why.

The Story of “Instant Coffee”

The start of the year wasn’t good to us either. Things were stripped away. Again. Even more.

I won’t go into every personal detail, but it came to a point where we couldn’t even afford instant coffee from the grocery store. All our bank accounts were zero. Not low. Not “almost empty.” Zero. Not even a hundred pesos from all of my banks and I refused to swipe “instant coffee” on my credit cards.

This was just last January.

After we paid all the bills, nothing was left except a few pesos in Mom’s account. One day she said, “Wala na tayong kape.” I don’t even drink coffee, caffeine isn’t good for me, but everyone else at home does. So we walked to the grocery. Yup. I don’t bring the car anymore to save on gasoline.

Mom picked the cheapest one she could find. ₱92 on the shelf.

We went to the cashier.

It scanned at ₱120+.

I felt my chest tighten.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even look at the price difference. But when your bank account is zero, every peso feels loud. I was frantic for two reasons: one, we literally didn’t have the extra money; and two, why was the shelf price different from the register? I even called the manager because I couldn’t process it.

And then Mom whispered softly, “Let’s not take it if it’s ₱120. It’s too expensive.”

I was deeply humbled. I almost cried right there in front of the cashier.

This was the same Mom who took me places. The same Mom who bought me things we didn’t even need. The same Mom who told me to travel while I was young so I could see the world beyond my comfort zone. The same Mom who supported my dreams of studying abroad.

How did it come to this?

How did we end up not being able to afford coffee?

In that moment, I wasn’t just sad. I was frantic. I was angry. And my dark thoughts started creeping in again.

“This is your fault.”
“They spent so much sending you to good schools abroad.”
“And now look at you. You’re back home. Weak. Useless.”

The guilt was loud.

I was ready to confront God. I was ready to ask if He was punishing me. But if He was punishing me… why did it have to affect Mom too?

I prayed tirelessly for answers.

January was also a low point for my business. No clients. Zero. Which, if you think about it, makes sense. People had just finished Christmas and New Year’s spending. Everyone was recovering financially. Who would prioritize creative services at that time?

Still, when you’re in survival mode, logic doesn’t comfort you.

I felt hopeless.

And then one day, something shifted in me.

I told myself: This year, I will focus on my family. I will not entertain noise. I will not compare my life to anyone else’s highlight reel. I will not get distracted by other people’s stories.

This year will be about choosing me and my family’s needs. Nothing else.

I printed my 2026 goals. Self-growth, business, health and wellness, family goals. I posted motivational quotes and Bible verses around my workspace. I created a permanent to-do list that I follow religiously, not just for work but for discipline.

I told myself: I can’t afford to be weak anymore. And slowly, I noticed the energy shift.

I reminded myself, if I survived 2017 and 2018, which were some of my lowest years, then I can survive this too. I never stopped praying. Even when I didn’t understand.

Maybe my definition of “lowest point” changed. Maybe it wasn’t the heartbreaks. Maybe it wasn’t the hospital. Maybe it wasn’t the diagnoses.

Maybe it was the moment I couldn’t afford a pack of coffee.

And I kept asking God:

We’re not what you would call lazy. Not even close.

My mom is 76 and still works tirelessly as a consultant. Seventy-six. Most people her age are resting, traveling, slowing down. But not her. She still shows up. She still thinks, plans, advises, contributes.

My husband works two to three jobs, and that’s not even including our businesses. He carries responsibilities quietly, without complaints. He just does what needs to be done.

And me?

I work tirelessly. Sometimes to a fault. I sacrifice sleep. I skip proper meals. I push my body beyond its limits just to deliver. Just to make sure clients are happy. Just to make sure they come back. Just to make sure we survive another month.

I even tried every angle I could think of. Helping my loved ones sell or rent their real estate properties. Trying to move anything that could bring in even a little income.

I even tried selling soaps, not just as a fallback for income, but because it’s also been my dream. A dream to have my own soap line. A business I can call my own, one that’s focused on self-care and helping people take a moment to care for themselves. Even in the middle of all this chaos, that little dream kept me going. It reminded me that no matter how stripped down life gets, there’s still a vision to hold onto.

Even when survival was the main goal, I refused to let go of my purpose. Because giving up… that’s never been an option. Not for Mom. Not for my husband. Not for me.

Even in the smallest, humblest ways, I kept fighting.

We are not tamad.

We are not careless. We are not sitting around waiting for miracles to fall from the sky. So naturally, the question keeps echoing in my heart:

Why is this happening to us?

Why does it feel like the harder we work, the more gets stripped away?

Why does obedience sometimes feel like loss?

I’ve wrestled with that question in silence. I’ve asked God in tears. Not with arrogance, but with confusion. With exhaustion.

Because when you know you’re doing your part… and things still fall apart… it shakes you.

And maybe that’s the point I’m slowly understanding.

Sometimes, God doesn’t humble the lazy.
Sometimes, He humbles the strong.

Not to break them.
But to realign them.

And I’m still in that process.

The Humbling Was Part of the Upgrade

It really makes me cry when I talk about faith. I’m literally crying as I write this. Because I still can’t fully fathom how God’s grace has pulled us through… YET AGAIN.

Okay, wait. Just a minute to wipe my tears and continue. *sniff sniff*

We bought the coffee. They followed the price on the shelf. I promised Mom she wouldn’t have to feel guilty about buying instant coffee ever again. I want the best life for my family. And all I could do was pray. Pray that God shows me why this is happening. Pray that He shows me the right path. Pray that He teaches me the right attitude. Because every time I think about our situation, it breaks me mentally.

And then… one day, I got a call from a stranger.

He was the general manager of an airport hotel preparing for their grand opening. At first, I thought it was just another empty inquiry, the kind I get multiple times a day. Clients who, right after requesting a quote, tell you straight up you’re too expensive, you’re not worth their money. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s part of the business.

But this call… was different.

He asked me for a copy of our quotes, a copy of our service agreements. I’ve sent these to dozens of clients before with no response. But this time, it felt different. This was a potential big client… a hotel, not a restaurant. A four-star hotel right beside the airport.

He called me again over the weekend to discuss their requirements. And then he said it:

“Congratulations. Your team has been awarded the project. The management chose Table Snaps Studio to handle everything, from the menus to the facilities, all the way to the grand opening.”

I couldn’t breathe. I had to pause. Wait. What? Me? My team? This is the biggest blessing of the year. And not just for me, I get to share it with the team. There’s nothing like seeing your blessings touch other people. The best feeling in the world is being able to share your blessings, even with what little we have. I couldn’t thank God enough. My prayers… answered again. I only prayed for an “onsite shoot” for the month just to get us by, but He answered and tripled it.

And then more blessings came.

I was offered a job as an R&D Pastry Chef at a local coffee chain (another story to tell, don’t get too excited yet). It showed me that God was literally opening two paths for me: one, the gift of creativity I express through Table Snaps Studio, and another, a skill where I can truly excel as a Pastry Chef.

Blessings after blessings came. More big clients. Not just one, but several.

And through it all, I realized something powerful:

Even when bad news hits hard every day, I can come out strong. I’m no longer the weak girl crying under her pillows when life goes South. Even when we have nothing, I’m reminded of God’s grace. Even when the next month feels uncertain, I am reminded that I am blessed. That better things are on the way.

God isn’t ignoring me. He’s busy paving the way… for me, for my family, and for every blessing He has yet to reveal. If I was my old self, I would see it as “more work”, “more sleepless nights”, “more pressure”.

God had to humble me so I wouldn’t mishandle the miracle. God humbled me so the blessing wouldn’t become a burden. God had to shape me before He shined on me.

First the Lesson, Then the Blessing

At this point, my faith was elevated even more.

God has been answering my prayers all along, even when I couldn’t see it.

I prayed for rest, and He brought me to the hospital, where doctors and care finally gave my body and mind the pause I desperately needed.

I prayed for answers and strength, and He gave me obstacles… not to break me, but to teach me how to find the answers myself, to build strength I didn’t know I had.

Sometimes, His answers don’t come wrapped the way we expect. Sometimes they come in challenges, in struggles, in moments that feel unbearable. But looking back now… I see. Every single hardship was an answer in disguise.

Every trial was His way of guiding me, shaping me, and preparing me for the blessings I hadn’t even dared to imagine yet.

I’m not scared anymore. Not even when our bank accounts drop to zero after paying the bills (which, hopefully, will never happen again). Because now I know I’m walking by faith, not by sight.

And yes… I’m still crying as I type this ending.

I’ve finally learned why everything had to happen. It took years, a lifetime of lessons and brokenness, to understand the reason.

If God had a group chat with His angels, I imagine it would go something like this…

I came across this a few days ago, and I know it wasn’t by chance. Not at all. It was a message meant for me, at exactly the right time.

My lowest point, I felt like my highest in faith. I felt grounded more than ever. I felt closer to Him more than ever. Not my sicknesses, not my heartbreaks, not my depression, but my family’s loss. It was as a family that He is teaching us something bigger and greater. That His power is more sovereign than anything in this world.

It reminded me: God’s timing is perfect. His plan is bigger than our fears. And even when life humbles you to your core… He’s still in control.

Faith isn’t just surviving the storm. Faith is seeing the calm on the other side, even when the storm hasn’t ended yet.

And now, I see. Now, I finally see.

I could literally write a book about my testaments, every tear, every heartbreak, every time I thought I couldn’t go on, and every time God showed up anyway.

This story? It’s only one of them. Just one chapter of a life full of lessons, humbling moments, and miracles that sometimes feel too big to believe. It amazes me every single day. 

And if my words made you cry… I’m sorry. Truly. But I hope your tears are not just of sadness, but of understanding. Of knowing that even in the darkest seasons, God is working. Even when life strips you down, He’s lifting you up in ways you can’t yet see.

Faith isn’t easy. It’s messy. It’s raw. It’s tearful. But it’s real. And it’s worth every broken, beautiful step.

So I keep writing. I keep sharing. I keep trusting. And I keep believing that His grace will carry me, and all of us, through. Our journey as a family hasn’t ended yet. We are nowhere near the end of it. But we trust God fully. That nothing is worth the wait, than His perfect timing.

KEEP UP THE FAITH! 

“They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the LORD“

PSALMS 112:7