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I Stayed Alive for the Wrong Reason—Until I Found the Right One

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I almost ended my life over and over again as a child.

Not dramatically. Quietly. Logically.

Our house is near a river.
When it floods, it is deep, fast, and strong enough to take you without a fight. I would walk back and forth beside it, thinking how simple it would be.

One step, and everything ends.

No more frustration. No more responsibility.
No more being the eldest who had to carry more than she wanted.

I was a wide reader, so even as a child, I already had opinions about life, what a family should look like, what was lacking, what wasn’t right.

And I felt that gap every day.

We were poor. What I needed was often not there. Still, my Nanay would share what little we had.

Then there was everything else.
Chores I didn’t want but still had to do.
Taking care of my siblings. Getting spanked and pinched for doing things halfheartedly because I would rather read, rather write, rather be somewhere else.

But life doesn’t adjust to what you prefer.
Even in the dark, we fetched water from the brook. Do it now or do it later. You’ll still do it.
Didn’t gather firewood? Then do it now, or do it later after a spank.

So I kept thinking about ending it.

And what stopped me wasn’t fear.

IT WAS MY FATHER.

Nanay knew what I was thinking. Instead of stopping me, she told me what I would miss.

“Tatay is coming home with a big can of bread.”
“Tatay is going up the stage with you to receive your award.”

Once a year, he would come home with a new dress for me.

Just once a year.
And that was enough.

Enough to make me step back from the river.
Enough to make life feel unfinished.

I stayed.

But that hope didn’t last.
There came a time when he stopped coming home.
Then I found out why.
That broke something in me.

The very thing that once kept me alive suddenly lost its weight. The “you’ll miss this” didn’t work anymore because there was nothing left to hold onto.

So I rebelled.

Quietly. Gently or so I thought.

If life was going to be like that, I wasn’t going to pretend to be okay with it.

And that path was leading somewhere dark.

But before I could completely destroy myself, I was met by a different kind of Father.

Not one who comes and goes.
Not one who fails.

But one who sees, who stays, who does not leave.

Looking back now, I understand it clearly.

My earthly father failed me.
But he was still used to keep me alive.

Because the hope of him, fragile, inconsistent, incomplete, was enough to carry me to the point where I could meet a Father who is none of those things.

If I had ended my life earlier, I would have missed Him.

So no, my earthly father did not save me.
But he led me to the moment where I could be.

And now, in a miracle I never expected, he’s back. He even helps pick up feeds for my pigs.

Restoration happens.

The Almighty Father who is worth staying for even helped me reconcile with my earthly father; which humanly speaking is almost impossible.

And now I stay, not because I’m afraid to miss something, but because I’ve already found Someone worth staying for.☺️

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