Past, Present, Purpose

“The secret of success is the constancy of purpose.”

This mantra was printed on one of my diaries in grade school. It stuck to me like a leech.

I heard of this again when Doji became my boss seven years ago. This was his personal dictum. Every now and then when we have breakfast together, he would still mention this when we talk about life, goals, achievements and the not-so-far-away future.

As Avenue Q harped on the essence of finding one’s purpose in life, I found myself asking the quintessential question: Have I found mine?

I am 30. Single.

In my circle of friends, I am one of the very few remaining bachelorettes with marriage very far in sight – by choice and by circumstance.

A lot of them are engaged and about to be married within the next two years, while I am incessantly beleaguered by what’s becoming an irritating question: “So when are you getting married?”

Or here’s yet another one: “Don’t you want to get pregnant and have kids?”

While I see myself having a lifetime partner – married or otherwise – I am still on that selfish mode of not wanting to get pregnant just yet. I cannot see myself bloated with water retention, gaining more and more weight when in the past 5 years or so, I struggled with how to get away from my Chubbychina self.

My current profile:

I live on my own. I drive my own car, I pay my own rent.

My career is on track, so far. Admittedly, things could be better on this side.

I am about to become a UP Centennial graduate and earn my Masters Degree. If I finish my thesis on time, that is.

I have a Boyfriend who, every now and then, feels scared about me and our future together that makes him hold back. Despite this, I am deeply in love with him. In my eyes, in my mind and in my heart – he is just as fabulous and wonderful.

I have a nowhere-near perfect family that I come home to every weekend. Despite the cracks, I cannot imagine my life without them and the every bit of flaw that we have.

I’m not as filthy rich as I want to be. I have money problems every now and then, ceaselessly worrying about how I can be a better provider for my loved ones. Yet I am content with how I can afford trips if I want to get away or appease myself with a luxury bag without batting an eyelash.

Although my bank account is not as loaded as I hope it would be at my age, I’m just as relieved that I have a roof on top of my head that shelters me and that I am not destitute.

The army of friends I am proud to have and hold is priceless. The best friends, the people in my speed dial and the so-called 911 people are in my life.

With this mental accounting of what I have and don’t, it’s easy to be pulled on either side: feel blessed and content for what I have or get frustrated and pine over things that I cannot yet possess.

Without the glorious past of my twenty-somethings and the bright future of my thirties, only one thing remains: the clear picture of my present without the smokes, mirrors and tainted glass window.

I have my present reality.

The jaded-realist-borderline bigot puppets of Avenue Q actually make sense. Some people find their purpose, some don’t.

So have I found mine?

I may not be the almost-engaged, nearly-married, career-successful, over-the-top, moneyed-honey I would want to be, yet I find excitement that I am slowly finding clarity. And inevitably, finding my purpose.

I am finding my purpose without unknowingly following the footsteps of my grandmother.

When I was young, I got accustomed to a house full of transients and adopted “relatives” – blood-related or otherwise. My Grandmother opened what was once our ancestral home to people, some even strangers, to stay with us and be part of the family.

Though we were not rich, she sent some of them to school or helped their children go to school to have decent jobs. My Mom is an only child, yet I grew up having a lot of titos and titas who I realized later on were not even related to us in any way.

During her wake and her burial, a lot of them came back from the States to pay their tribute to their “mother.”

Now that I am of age, I found myself in the same path – without even knowing it.

Our small family house is now home to my ageing Yaya, who I chose to take care of when she’s old. It’s the least that I can do for someone who offered her entire life to our family. We are also taking care of her sister who cannot be supported by her impoverished children.

I am now a mother to a nearly-3 year old child who was left to us when she was an infant. I may not be her natural mother and I am still at a loss whether to legally adopt her or not and how to financially afford all my newly-extended family obligations, but I do know that I will have a hand in how she will be raised and educated. Most of all, I have the potential to make her feel loved and compensate for the affection lost when she was left by her parents.

Do I need to get married to have a family of my own? Do I need to get pregnant and give birth to become a real mother?

In my case, not quite.

Perhaps, the Universe has different directions for each one of us. Nobody should be obligated to follow a path that is not theirs.

And if this path is meant to be mine, I am just as glad to take it and rejoice with what I have. As Avenue Q put it, “We are okay for now.”