I’ve always thought that the world’s a little blurry.
The people who loved me saw the person I would become long before I did.
I have a confession to make.
Growing up, I thought that as I lived, clarity would come. The reality couldn’t be farther from that—life is not clear as we’re living it.
But there’s a good thing in that.
When life surprises you, it really will. It will literally and totally shock you… and when it’s good kind of surprise, it’s really a good thing.
The lesson “We can only appreciate life looking backwards” rang true. While we are busy living life, we rarely know who we are becoming while we are becoming.
The future can feel blurry from where we stand.
Sometimes, we only understand our journey when we look backward.
I’ve always thought that the world’s a little blurry. Not because we cannot see, but because we cannot always see far enough ahead to understand what our lives are becoming.
Honestly, I used to think the worse. That there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, and that the future wasn’t bright for me.
I wasn’t the most optimistic girl out there. If I’m being honest, I always think the worst of things, so when the result comes, I don’t have to be surprised with it.
So, growing up, even if I uphold myself into my very best and my most excellent self, I couldn’t stop myself from doubting…
But then again, I was blessed with the right people. I always seem to find the people who could support me, the ones who see the best in me.
The people who loved me saw the person I would become long before I did.
My first-ever supporters or believers would be my parents. My mother saw the potential in me as early as when I was three. She taught me to read, write, and count. Years later, she entrusted me with the responsibility of teaching my sisters. She saw my leadership potential long before I saw it. She knew I was independent and dependable even when I didn’t know what those words and responsibility meant.
My father saw my bright future in the little and ordinary things I do when I talk about my big dreams, my American dream, my insurmountable future, and every high hope I have in me. When I said I wanted to go to college, and after I chose my pre-medical program, he didn’t doubt me. I couldn’t be more grateful for my father for providing me with the emotional, moral, financial, and spiritual support that I needed.
I’m grateful that my parents saw the bright future in me. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t be where I am now.
My sisters knew I was writing. Always. They knew about my love for reading and my love for creating—writing. They knew about my tendency to think deeply, my compassion, my curiosity. And they never doubted me when I said that I wanted to publish my books one day.
At first, I doubted myself. I worried about their reactions. But they proved to me that all the doubts and insecurities have always been just in my mind.
All of this to say, I never thought that those little pushes and supports could lead me to this. That it would lead to something so beautiful as this.
As a child, I have always had flamboyant dreams, but I never thought that those dreams could one day become true. That one day, I would be so pumped up and motivated to do something about it.
Like I said, when I was a child, I wanted to be a teacher, a lawyer, a fashion designer, a writer, or a doctor.
At that time, those seemed like separate possibilities.
But looking back, perhaps they weren’t random at all.
I went to pre-med so I could meet friends who could inspire me to write and become a part of a school publication team that would ignite my passion for writing, and the pandemic—although it delayed some of my plans—has made me grow closer to my craft. Then I’d been delayed in my American dream so I could work in the hospital here and be motivated to start my blog. And this blog would help me turn my ideas into papers and books.
They were little windows into the person I was becoming.
And I’m grateful to the people who noticed even the littlest and smallest things.
My parents encouraged me with my studies. My sisters support me with whatever careers I want to pursue. A teacher noticed my leadership. My friends who told me that I was good at writing. Someone believed I could accomplish something before I believed it myself. Family members making sacrifices for a future they could somehow imagine for me.
Sometimes, love looks like believing in a version of you that you haven’t met yet.
And it was so beautiful, because before you even arrived at something, they’ve seen the destination…
And suddenly, even if I still think that the world is a little blurry, the picture became clearer each day.
I finished school.
I became a licensed professional.
I started working.
I began writing seriously.
I explored new paths.
I started making decisions that the younger me could never have imagined.
And yet, adulthood doesn’t necessarily make everything clear.
It simply changes the kind of blur.
When I was young, I didn’t know who I would become.
I know who I am, but I’m still not sure what I’m becoming. And this journey has been confusing, yet it made me hope for the future.
And in the midst of all, there’s this discomfort—the inability to know what the future offers.
Being in my twenties has been a rollercoaster ride. I thought I’d know better, but the truth is there’s no set roadmap for everyone. You have to have your own road.
I’ve sometimes wondered…
Am I where I’m supposed to be?
Am I becoming the person I was meant to become?
What if I’m taking the wrong road?
And the people around me didn’t predict the future, they simply knew what could be… the possibilities for me.
And looking back now, the dots begin to connect.
Those little things that once seemed unrelated begin to make sense.
That the child who once enjoyed her diaristic entries on that assignment in elementary became the editor-in-chief in college.
The girl who dreamed of many professions became the woman still searching, learning, and building.
The daughter whose parents sacrificed has become the woman who now understands the weight of those sacrifices.
The dreamer was doing everything to become a writer.
Maybe becoming isn’t about following a straight line. Maybe it’s about looking backward and realizing that even the detours were teaching us how to become ourselves.
And so, I am thankful to the people who believed… those who saw the greatness in me.
They may not have known exactly what I would become either.
But they believed I would become someone worth becoming.
That is a much more beautiful kind of faith.
And I’m glad that the Highest Author could see clearly all along. That God sees even the limited vision I only could.
I couldn’t see the whole picture. Maybe I was never supposed to.
But God sees the beginning, middle, and end while I only see the small portion directly in front of me.
And I accept that the world still feels a little blurry…
I am still blurry around the edges.
I still don’t know everything.
But it’s fine because now, I know what my younger me doesn’t—you don’t have to see the entire road to take the next step.
And perhaps the people who loved me were never asking me to have all the answers.
They simply kept reminding me, in different ways, that there was something in me worth believing in.
I didn’t know who I would become, but they saw something in me, and then I grew up and became uncertain again. But as I looked back, I realized that they were right about my potential. I realized that God has been seeing the whole picture. And now, I accept that I am still becoming.
Maybe the world will always be a little blurry. Maybe growing up isn’t about finally seeing everything clearly but learning to trust the people—and the God—who can see what I cannot.
