Stay

It was a yearly habit for my husband and me to check our “word of the year” on a website right as the clock struck midnight. I don’t know why, but this year felt more meaningful to me—not just an ordinary ritual. Everything in my current season feels uncertain, and I needed something to hold on to, something tangible I could grasp. I needed a specific word—something I could cling to when everything felt out of control, something that would give me assurance and peace.

As I waited for my word of the year, I prayed silently that it would be powerful, life-changing, something that would move me. But when my screen finally loaded, a four-letter word appeared: STAY. Oh Lord, where’s the moving part? Where’s the life-changing, powerful word? STAY felt like the opposite of what I had hoped for. To me, it sounded static. I had the urge to refresh the page, maybe generate a new word—but who would I be cheating? Just myself. So I accepted it. Alright, maybe this really is God’s word for me this year.

STAY. Maybe it had something to do with my role as a stay-at-home mom. Or maybe it meant staying in the province for another year. Or perhaps it was an instruction to stay put because a new season was coming, so no major life-changing decisions needed to be made yet. All of it made sense, but I wasn’t fully convinced. Still, I had the rest of the year to figure it out.

A few days later, during some me-time—sipping a matcha latte and reading a psychological thriller, something dawned on me. The word stay may sound static, but it’s still a verb. It’s an action word. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be taken literally. I thought about my roles as a wife, a mother, and my pursuits outside family life. But perhaps it had nothing to do with anyone else. Maybe it had everything to do with me.

The word stay is for me, first and foremost. Maybe it’s God’s way of telling me to stay with myself. Stay with myself even when each day reveals my own ugliness and imperfections. Stay with myself even when I’m confronted with conflicting feelings. Stay with myself even when knowing myself becomes messier. Stay with myself when I want to be honest about what I feel and what I think. Stay with myself.

So I decided to start with myself.

I began my healing journey six years ago when I pursued counseling. Back then, I felt confident that I knew myself well. I thought I was self-aware, especially after all the reflection papers I wrote about my woundedness: my adoption, how I was raised by my adoptive mom, sibling issues, and more. I thought I had it all figured out. But I was wrong.

I realized that the way I understood my adoption and childhood wounds six years ago is very different from how I see them now, as I navigate family life. New wounds are scratched every time new triggers appear. As I deal with motherhood, marriage, and personal growth, the meaning I once gave to my woundedness has changed. The woman I was six years ago—who thought she had grief and loss all figured out because she had written about them in reflection papers—is very different from the woman I am today, who is confronted by those wounds in everyday life.

That’s when it finally made sense to me: healing is not a one-time event. It’s a continuous process, as long as we are alive. And so I decided to stay with myself as I continue this healing journey.

As a practical step, I bought a new notebook dedicated solely to my healing (my husband still can’t fathom why I needed another one). I’m a sucker for notebooks such as a weekly planner, spiritual journal, random idea notebook, school notebooks, etc. But this one is different. This one is just for healing. I call it my The Heartwork Notebook. At the bottom, I wrote: This red notebook is where wounds are named and grace is invited. I intentionally chose red to represent my heart.

During my me-time, I commit to asking myself hard questions and writing freely. This is not an aesthetic notebook; no stickers, no neat penmanship, no color-coded pens (definitely not my personality). I just write without filters, without worrying about grammar or language – Filipino, English, or Taglish. I write freely.

Today, as I reread my entries, I feel a sense of freedom. Freedom to be honest with myself. Freedom to sit with my ugly thoughts and feelings. This is my way of staying with myself.

Maybe someday, when I reread this again, I’ll be reminded of my decision to STAY, and see how it truly became life-changing, moving, and powerful for me.