I was born into a life where survival was the only thing that mattered. In our small province in the Philippines, where the air smelled of damp earth and the sound of roosters crowing filled the mornings, poverty wasn't just a circumstance—it was a way of life.
My family was large. Twelve siblings in total, plus my parents. Our tiny house, made of patched wood and rusted tin sheets, barely had enough space for all of us. At night, we would squeeze together on the bamboo floor, sharing thin blankets and each other's warmth. Privacy was a luxury we never knew.
I still remember my early years vividly. When I was in Grade 1, my daily allowance was one peso—if my mother had any to spare. Most days, my siblings and I went to school with empty pockets, hoping a classmate would share a snack or that the hunger pangs wouldn't be too painful until we got home. For lunch, my mother would fry a single egg, carefully dividing it into six portions. Some people refuse to believe it when I tell them. "How can one egg feed six children?" they ask. But it did. Somehow, it always did.
School was my escape, even though it was a struggle in itself. I walked several kilometers every day, my slippers worn thin from the rough roads. My uniform, hand-me-downs from my older siblings, was faded and patched in places. I envied my classmates who had new bags, crisp notebooks, and full lunchboxes. I often wondered what it would feel like to have those things—to not have to worry about whether we would eat that day.
Despite our hardships, my parents did everything they could to provide for us. My father worked from dawn until dusk, taking on any job he could find—construction, farming, even fixing broken appliances. My mother, on the other hand, managed the household with remarkable strength. She cooked, cleaned, and found ways to stretch every peso, making the impossible seem possible.
But no matter how hard they worked, poverty clung to us like a shadow. There were nights I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this was all life had to offer. I couldn't help but ask myself—was there a way out, or was this our destiny?
Little did I know that the struggles we faced then were just the beginning. Life had more challenges in store, and soon, I would find myself facing something far greater than hunger or poverty.
A battle that no amount of resilience could prepare me for.