Chevitas

When Butterflies Go Pale  Home November 28, 2024 I think this is anxiety. The trembling in my hands, the gut-wrenching pit in my stomach—it’s there from the moment I wake up, and it doesn’t leave until I fall asleep. And honestly? Sometimes I wish I could just stay asleep, because it’s the only time I feel at peace. All my life, I believed that mistakes and missteps are what make us human. That they’re normal. But lately, I don’t feel so normal. These little errors I’ve made, they haunt me. And even on days when nothing actually goes wrong, I still feel the same. Like I’m bracing myself for disaster—as if I’m waiting for the bad to happen, even when things are okay. I don’t wish for negativity. I’m the kind of person who adores glitter and glitz, sunshine and rainbows, sprinkles and sparkle. But why does my heart feel so dull? Why are the butterflies in my stomach not dancing in color, but fluttering in pale shades of gray? I believe in God. I love myself. I have a support syst...

The Jar Never Runs Dry Lupit Church | Tiu Mai November 10, 2024 Today, I chose to attend mass—not out of obligation, but because I knew my soul needed it. Every time I sit inside the church, it feels like the weight on my chest becomes easier to carry, like something within me is being slowly cleansed. The homily was centered on humility and generosity , two virtues that often go hand in hand. The priest spoke about the story of Elijah and the widow in 1 Kings 17:8–16 . Elijah, weary and hungry, asked a widow for food. The woman had only enough flour and oil left for one final meal, but in faith, she gave it anyway—believing that God would provide. And He did. Her jar of flour and jug of oil never ran dry. That story hit home because something similar happened to me just last week. I had just finished breakfast when I received a call from one of my employees, saying someone was looking for me at the office. I didn’t know who it could be—until I saw her. It was an elderly woman I recogn...

Maybe the Ending Won't Suck Home November 7, 2024  Is it normal to feel hopeful and still be doubtful? Today is November 7, 2024 , a Thursday evening. I'm writing this with the hope of unburdening my thoughts—thoughts I wish to both bury and lift up to God. Lately, my mind and heart have felt heavier with each passing day. Still, I wake up each morning trying to smile, trying to stay strong, trying to pretend that everything’s under control. But the truth is, I feel lost. Overwhelmed. Like I’m drifting without direction in my early 20s. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who feels this way. But in between scrolling through blogs, essays, and late-night TikToks, I find a little comfort—knowing I’m not alone in this strange season of confusion, pressure, and invisible grief. I want to be something and someone all at once. But life doesn’t work that way. Dreams cost time. Desires ask for decisions. And circumstances—well, they love throwing curveballs that make everything...