Me, my age and Bangtan Sonyeondan.

Roughly 2 years ago, I faced something unfamiliar that shook me to my core.

People around me describe me as someone who is blunt, someone who has a strong and brash personality, confident…mean. I did not necessarily see myself that way, but I unknowingly lived up to my reputation. It worked for years, until 2018. There wasn’t really anything in particular — there was no major event, tragedy, shock or accident that could trigger the depression. I was working full time in the hospital and the same time I was managing a local non-profit association that I was very devoted to. It seemed like everything was going great, but it wasn’t. I felt empty. I felt alone. I had my family with me, and no, they did not necessarily abandon me, but they had their families to take care of. My friends were all getting married, settling down. Now, I wasn’t really sad about being single, but I felt that my life was going nowhere. I assessed everything and anything I have…and felt like I had nothing. I had no house, no savings, no car, no family to take care of, no special someone. I was on my own. All of us sudden, it felt wrong.

Work started to become tedious; I felt exhausted and burnt out. Waking up became a chore. Sleep wanted nothing to do with me. Being the President of a non-profit organization felt meaningless and unfulfilling. I started thinking, “If I die, no one would miss me.” I stopped taking my medications. I ate to my heart’s content, as if trying to fill the void I could not explain. NO ONE noticed. They only noticed my fluctuating weight. None of them, not even my family, heard my desperate plea for help. How could they? I wasn’t telling them anything. I didn’t open up to anyone.

One day, I went to see my doctor to ask for sleep medication. Unlike the others, she started asking questions. She saw through the wall I built. She did what any other doctor would do — she stopped me from working and gave me anti-depressants. At first I was livid. I don’t do depression. I am strong, how could I be depressed? I spoke to my family about it. They said, “it’s because you don’t have a husband.” It shattered me. They did not see it as a problem. I’ll get over it, they said. I knew better. I knew I was in a hole I could not get out of without help. I started to think that maybe, I have no place in this world.

The only thing making me smile throughout those times, were the videos of Bangtan Sonyeondan, a Kpop group I discovered 2 years prior to my depression (2016). Their silly antics made me laugh, and I ate it all up. Their songs were catchy, and felt like being a part of their fandom made me belong to something. Despite all that, it was not enough. As soon as I turn my laptop off, the void reappears. I felt helpless, so I started looking into Bangtan’s music and its message. Their music spoke of self worth, of self love, saying that not having dreams or a passion does not diminish who you are. They spoke of their own fears, their own bouts with depression, their struggles. Every song I listen to, I felt less alone. Every Bangtan Bomb I watch, I felt more of my worth. I held on to them, to their music. Slowly but surely, they lifted me out of that cursed hole, something even my own family and closest friends were not able to do.

Now, as near 40-year old fan of BTS, I face criticism and ridicule. They say I’m too old for BTS. They say that their music is bubblegum (without actually listening to it, mind you). You know what? FUCK IT. Say what you want to say, but these 7 men and their message saved me. They are my saviors. So I say bring it — the criticisms, the judgement, the mockery…bring it. No one can take away the fact that I probably would not be here today if not for BTS. I was spiraling out of control, and holding on to them brought me back.

How many of you can say you were able to do that for someone?

A break.

Thank heavens.

I am on vacation at work for a week, so as soon as my last day of work was over…I went straight to my apartment in Montreal despite my mother’s protests. I was very careful on the way, while I was in the subway, most especially. I wore a mask just to be on the safe side. I kept my hands inside my coat pocket to prevent myself from touching my face. I called my mother a couple of days later to show her that I arrived unscathed and covid free. Let’s hope she relaxes a bit in the future.

Being here has been refreshing — with no one but my best friend /roommate with me. We don’t go out, we just watch Netflix, chill and pig out. I am more at ease and definitely anxiety-free. I definitely needed this, and I am glad that I made the hard decision of defying my mother’s wishes and risk hurting her feelings in the process. All I wanted was for her to understand that I am aware that she’s being paranoid and anxious because she cares about me, but in the end, I get to decide — because I am a full grown adult, have been for decades now, and that I know what I am doing. I also want her to realize that while this pandemic is a major concern, my mental state and health is just as important.

I pray that everything goes back to normal slowly, but surely.

Some more Covid-19 woes.

Here we go again.

This recent Covid-19 is affecting me more than I thought it would. My last post was about me venting about the pressure my job is putting on my shoulders. Thanks to my co-workers, I am currently handling that. They took it upon themselves to do the deliveries that I was obliged to do. I will be forever grateful, and I intend to show them how much as soon as time and circumstances let me. I just wish I am getting the same support at home.

My mother, needless to say, is obsessed and paranoid about all this. She self-quarantined herself, bought Lysol sprays, wipes, sanitizers, the works. She tells me and my stepfather to wash our hands every waking moment. She won’t let me go ANYWHERE, not even to my apartment in Montreal.

While I understand and appreciate all that she does, it is affecting me negatively. As I have previously said, my work requires me to be out everyday, take public transport, enter a hospital and maybe deliver medications to wards who take care of covid positive patients. Being a hospital worker, I am exposed and well practiced in all the safety precautions and disinfecting myself. I DO NOT need to be told to wash my hands or sanitize; I do it instinctively. I know not to touch my face when I am out and about; I am trained to be aware of these things. All these facts are being ignored by my mother right now — all of it she does to “protect” me. The problem is, her constant badgering, coddling, and most of all the obsession to read, watch, and follow whatever she sees online to “protect” us from the virus is an added pressure I DO NOT NEED. I do not appreciate coming home from work after a long day just to be greeted with, “Go straight to the washroom, wash your hands, spray Lysol on your jacket and your bag”. I do not appreciate the constant, “If you go to Montreal, take the metro, you will get sick and contaminate me.” I try my best to tell myself that it is all for my own good, but unfortunately, my fragile mental state is not handling it well. I am on the verge of breaking down. I tell her this, but she dismisses it, just like the first time, when she told me “You’re just lonely because you don’t have a husband.” My mental problem is something she does not acknowledge. THAT is the problem.

While yes, it is safer for me to stay here and not in Montreal, and yes, I really should be careful about touching things and washing hands and disinfecting, and yes, a constant reminder would help, the constant dismissal of my mental problem is NOT. Isolation is breaking me, the pressure is burying me. I need a break. The things that are going on in my head are just things I don’t normally think of when I’m mentally sound, and I am afraid of what I might do to achieve PEACE.

But. She. Does. Not. Listen.

Covid 19

Hello. Life hasn’t been nice to me lately.

As you all know, the pandemic known as COVID-19 is currently causing worldwide distress. While I am beyond blessed and grateful to be covid-free as of the moment, working in the hospital has been giving me stress.

I have type 2 Diabetes. It is a known observation that people with chronic illnesses such as Diabetes are more susceptible to the virus. Working in the hospital, I have been OBLIGED by my boss to go up there and deliver syringes on the floor, including the covid-19 wards. I was beside myself — I was in tears, and my hands were trembling. I may have subjected myself to this because I chose to work in a hospital, but all I could think about was how I could possibly pass this virus to my mother, a senior citizen who also has type 2 diabetes, and my older sister, who aside from being diabetic, just had a triple coronary bypass surgery a year ago.

I tearfully explained this to my boss, but her ears were deaf. She tried to placate me, even tried to emotionally blackmail me, made me feel that my fears were irrational and exaggerated. I didn’t feel human. I was a means to an end.

I know that people will say that I have a duty to do my job, and I fully understand that. With that said, I also know that I have the right to fear for my family as well, because they are vulnerable, because they are already sick. Forget the fact that I, too, am sick. All I ask is that should I choose to endanger myself and my family, let it be MY choice.

I am so heartbroken and disappointed.


I have been neglecting the blog, I know.

It’s not because I have nothing in my mind, but more because I don’t have the time to actually sit and post something that’s actually worth it. Life hasn’t been giving me a break.

With that being said, I’ll try to post more often from now on.

I survived.


I had a mini crisis due to stress planning my mom’s birthday. Well, no, let me rephrase that. I have been doubting myself and my worth for quite some time now and planning my mom’s party fed my insecurity. I’m glad to say that I survived, by helping MYSELF.

Some people were worried about me during the last post, and I sincerely thank you. I also want to apologize for worrying you, that was not my intention. I just wanted to release whatever negativity I have been feeling. I am okay now.

Now onto happier things.

I love myself

I am here again.  I’m afraid the reason’s not good, though.

My battle with depression and self doubt started early — as the middle child, I always felt bypassed; unimportant.  I felt that no one cared what I did, what I liked, What I have to say didn’t matter.  It may not be true, but it was how I felt back then, and because I was afraid of people telling me that I was wrong, that my thoughts weren’t valid, I built a wall.  I hid behind and made them see how unaffected I was, and that I relish the way they called me the “black sheep”, a “bitch”, “maldita” and so on.  Little to they know, every word thrown against me, whether constructive or just plain rude, dented my soul, little by little.  I started to have doubts; I thought maybe, I am just not a person someone could love.  No one knew but me.

When I moved to a new country, I was culture shocked.  I felt unsupported and alone.  I felt like I was thrown into the lion’s den without anything to protect me.  I should have voiced out my worries, but I didn’t.  I fortified the wall around me and encouraged everyone’s opinion about my “strong personality” and “brutal mouth”.  I pretended to embrace what people perceived me as.  Deep inside, I was dying.  Little by little, I started hating myself.

When finally I admitted the problem and sought help, I finally gave myself the attention I never gave myself all these years.  It was hard to tear the wall down, but I started doing it, and a weight was lifted off my shoulders.  I thought to myself, I am getting better.

Now, 2 months after admitting my problem, I am back to square one.  I feel alone, unworthy, used, unloved.  People I call my family dismiss my comments as rude and inconsiderate, because I have no children, and I would never know how it feels for them.  Being single without a child became I curse.  I feel like I am being unintentionally pushed to give more, because I have nobody else to take care of.  I feel that they are right.  I am just not as important as their family.  I am dispensable.

I want to talk to myself.  Please, HELP YOURSELF.  Do not go there.


I recently watched the 2018 Melon Music Awards (MMAs) and I was blessed to have been able to witness BTS’ EPIC 20-minute performance, where they slayed.  The vocals were so LIVE I was able to hear the heavy breathing — I can’t even sing while climbing the stairs, and they had to perform 3 songs that were choreography heavy.  I was most impressed by the dance line’s (J-Hope, Jimin and Jungkook <3) Korean inspired dance intro.

Here’s the full performance:

Aside from that, they also won 7 awards including TWO DAESANGS (daesang = grand prize), one for Album of the Year and one for Artist of the Year.



I haven’t been here.  I know.

2018 hasn’t been kind to me, if I were to be completely honest.  I went through things I never thought I ever would, and it shook me.  Growing up in a third world country when everything is a battle, I’ve always viewed people who break down as weaklings; quitters; overdramatic.  Until, one day, it happened to me.

I never really saw myself as someone who would succumb to depression.  I’ve always believed that I was tough as nails, so when my doctor told me that I was suffering from depression, I wanted to punch her face.  How dare she tell me that I’m mentally sick.  I don’t do depression.  The truth is, deep inside my core, I knew there is something working against me.

I don’t want to get into the hows, the whens, the whys.  I just want to finally acknowledge that I was in fact, ill.  As a matter of fact, I still am.  The only difference is now, I am fighting.

Fanfic recs

SOOOOO I have been addicted to Jikook (Jimin and Jungkook) fanfiction lately and I feel the need to share all my favorite stories with everyone.  There are so many creative writers out there and I sincerely believe that their work(s) should be read by the world.  It’s a long list so stay tuned.

Meanwhile, everyone can start with this light, fluffy one shot:

dear diary, holy crap i think i’m in love with park jimin by jungkooks hyung (bangtans_boy)