Lockdown diaries: ‘I choose to find the good’
(13th in a series)
Akiko Thomson Guevara, former national swimming champion and TV host, mother of three
As is true for everyone else, our lives the past five weeks have changed dramatically. But as with all challenges in life, you do the best you can to adjust—finding what works and what doesn’t—and taking each day or week, a day or week at a time. I remind myself that life is a marathon, not a sprint, and that we need to pace ourselves always.
Thankfully our boys (Noah, 9, and Elijah, 7) are still in school. I say “thankfully,” as this keeps them busy and their momma’s not scrambling to find productive activities for them to do, apart from the inevitable screen time. This is a lot of work for my husband and me (the younger the child, the more involvement required of the parent), but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I appreciate seeing firsthand the areas they struggle with, the areas they enjoy, their quirks and ways with their classmates on Zoom calls. It’s sweet.
We try to keep to a loose routine. I say “loose,” as I find much grace is needed for me and the kids when any of us wake up on the wrong side of the bed. But we typically start our school day no later than 9 a.m., a parent to each child (for sanity’s sake). They may have a Zoom class call at 11, we have lunch, and then move around outdoors. Thankfully we have a backyard, which has been such a saving grace; amazing how easily we have come to value (I mean really value) what we have.
Our 3-year-old daughter, Sachiko, has her own needs and schedule, too. I’m grateful we have amazing nannies and a super “wowa” (who pick up when momma is engaged with the boys), and creative therapists (Sachiko has Down Syndrome) who have found solutions for our new now. We’ve started with teletherapy twice a week for Sachiko’s speech and occupational therapy. It was initially weird and different; we don’t have all the tools and toys a therapy center might have and the hands-on presence of a therapist, but what I do appreciate is the learning that’s happening for both me and my yaya. Sessions require both our presence and a lot more involvement from us.
These are challenging times for sure, but I choose to find the good, to thank God each day for just one thing, and again, to take each day a day at a time. This too shall pass. I can’t help but feel that perspective in life is always essential. There really is much to be grateful for, and so many to be praying for. —ALYA B. HONASAN
RJ Nuevas, GMA 7 drama department creative head
Since I’m a bit of a homebody, the community quarantine was no big deal for me. I’m just doing usual things—reading, watching movies and TV series, baking, and my favorite, sleeping.
In the more than one month that I’ve stayed at home, I went out just two times: to buy Baliwag liempo, and to do some grocery shopping.
There was one time that I felt cabin fever was setting in. I went to my balcony and basked under the setting sun, and I was suddenly okay.
Since I can’t go to the gym,
I do my morning exercise— dancing, “tabata,” yoga and a little weightlifting on the balcony.
Also, I finally organized my book collection which I couldn’t do because of my busy schedule prelockdown.
There are insights I have gained because of this lockdown. I realized that Filipinos are very stubborn and always find ways to get around the rules. Mahilig talagang magpalusot. And that the reason it’s hard to implement some rules is because of overpopulation. After the lockdown, the government should have a family planning program.
When all this is over, I plan to go to Boracay—to read, watch movies and sleep! —POCHOLO CONCEPCION
Christine Fajardo, corporate affairs head, Novartis
My work as a manager in a health-care company has not stopped, in our commitment to help respond to the pandemic. I coordinate with our company’s global headquarters, my local colleagues, the Department of Health, and other private sector partners in supporting the country’s new coronavirus disease (COVID-19) response. These include processing funds and medicines for donation.
My role as “dual parent”—i am both mother and father to my children—is my top priority. I make an extra effort to listen to my children who find the extended lockdown quite challenging. Another challenge we as a family are coping with is being separated from my youngest son, who was in Baler, Quezon, when the ECQ (enhanced community quarantine) started more than a month ago. As a mother, I worry about his safety and well being, but I have accepted the reality that we will have to wait until the ECQ is lifted and he can finally come home.
With my youngest son, the resident cook of our family, stranded in Baler, my youngest daughter has had to step up and serve as substitute chef. She has been quite successful in creating healthy recipes, and even prepared 100 vegetable meal boxes, which she donated to homeless families in Manila. With my relatives and neighbors, we try to help displaced workers in our community cope with their daily needs.
The ECQ has brought our extended family together in prayer. Every morning at 8, I join my sisters, aunt and uncle in our daily virtual novena that spans three time zones (United States, New Zealand, the Philippines).
Viber has become a vital virtual link for our community. Before the ECQ, our village had two Viber groups, one for the neighborhood and another for the marketplace group. Now we also have Viber groups for essential medicines, groceries and COVID-19; doctors lead this group in our village. —ANNE A. JAMBORA
Nick Pichay, playwright and lawyer
I used to wake up very early to prepare for the day. In the current uncertainty, I feel no reason to even get out of bed. I know that some of my friends who work from home during the lockdown have maintained a modicum of regularity. But even they, in conversation, betray a sense of things being terribly off-key, maybe like what the musicians felt when they kept on playing a waltz while the Titanic sank.
If you’ve ever been on a five-day silent retreat, you know that the demons start to appear on the third day. A forced quarantine may not be as silent, but prolonged social deprivation seems to trigger introspection, or hallucination. Some mornings, while brushing my teeth or planning a meal, I can sense the anger rising at the back of my head, like a tight hoodie slowly engulfing my brain. I feel that I am, like most of us, trapped in a situation not of our own doing. It seems frustrating to one’s sense of equity that we’ve been dragged into doing penance for other peoples’ greed or ineptitude. It’s a travesty that the people in government here and in another country (who might have set off this pandemic) will never be brought to justice in our lifetime. If we survive this, people will likely sweep the debris under the rug of forgetfulness, and find ways to claim normalcy in their lives. Hopefully, historians and artists will not allow that to happen. More than ever, we need to remember for posterity.
I live with my Tiang Caring and a dog named Random, who we named to remind us of how we should do acts of kindness. She is 92 years old, and he will be turning 4 this November. It’s been 30 days since I’ve kissed my aunt, or held her close in an embrace. How heartbreaking it would be to live forever inside an untouchable bubble. Random, his food now rationed, his walks totally canceled, seems not as cheerful.
In this quarantined life, I am fascinated by the romanticism showered on the marginalized and the various front-liners who are perceived to suffer the most. To me, sympathy is a verb; without action it is merely a scam.
I wish I had the skills and the wherewithal to help others transition away from a life focused on profit and power, to one that is both uncomplicated and human. But that is, of course, an oversimplification. Sadly, the unlikelihood of reaching that goal is where my anger and guilt are coming from: In the grand scheme of things, I may as well be a speck of dust smaller than the coronavirus.