Some days, “not sweating the small stuff” doesn’t feel like ease or wisdom. It just feels like I’m pushing through.
I’ve adjusted how I communicate. I speak in Filipino, soften my tone, use pakiusap (polite requests) instead of being direct, and slow down when I talk. Even so—the same issues keep coming up. That’s why I’m so tired.
I’ve written before about how setting boundaries is important for taking control of a situation. In my previous entry about my experience with a laundry service, I reflected on personal boundaries and the exhaustion of carrying others’ burdens—because sometimes—no, often—even after I draw that line, things don’t automatically get smoother.
Take the technician who said he’d do a proper demo—and didn’t. When I brought it up calmly, he started pushing sales instead of listening. I told him more than once that I was already thinking about recommending the product, but he kept asking for referrals anyway.
Or the store clerk I called because a transformer I bought wasn’t working. The first thing they asked was: “Ma’am, 110 po ba yung gamit niyo?” (Ma’am, is your device 110V?). It missed the whole point of my call. Why would I buy a transformer if my appliance wasn’t 110V? This wasn’t a mix‑up—it was like they weren’t paying attention to the context.
After a while, I realized I was doing the work the system should handle. Half‑answers that need follow‑up questions. Instructions I have to explain again and again. Even processes that I end up clarifying to the people who’re supposed to know them.
Once, I actually found myself walking a provider through their own workflow. My caregiver was listening in and said, “Nakakapagod…” (How tiring…). She was just listening—and she was worn out. Imagine how I felt, having to navigate all of it myself! That moment stuck with me because it put words to the tiredness without blaming anyone. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about having to carry the weight of understanding for other people—over and over!
What stopped me from thinking this was all my fault was hearing from other people who deal with the same thing.
- A friend who works at an NGO for low‑income women says she feels the same fatigue—having to translate what she means across different education levels, dialects, and assumptions.
- A bank executive mentioned, matter‑of‑factly, that listening, understanding, and following through have gotten noticeably worse even in professional settings.
- The leadership at a hotel I frequent said guest feedback keeps pointing to the same issues—they know these are systemic problems they need to fix.
Hearing this from different fields made it clear: wanting things to be clear isn’t too much to ask.
That’s why saying “Eh, third world country tayo” (We’re a third world country) doesn’t feel right. A label doesn’t explain why a question ignores what you just said. It doesn’t explain why a simple purchase premise gets missed. Using “third world” just shuts down questions. It’s become an easy excuse that makes poor quality normal—and lets people avoid asking who ends up paying the price. More often than not, it’s the people who listen carefully, speak clearly, and notice when things get lost in translation.
This tiredness is hard to brush off because there’s data behind it. International and local assessments (like PISA, Programme for International Student Assessment) consistently rank the Philippines near the bottom in reading comprehension and functional literacy. These aren’t just numbers on a list—they show up in real life, in questions that miss the point and agreements that fall apart right after they’re made.
Pointing this out isn’t being elitist or mean. It’s just stating the facts. And those facts matter when the same problems pop up everywhere I go. Knowing this doesn’t make interactions easier—but it helps me understand why trying to be clear can feel so lonely, and why some of us end up carrying more than our share of the mental work.
Someone once told me I’m a perfectionist living in an imperfect world. I get what they mean, but I see it differently.
This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about living every day in a culture where the way most people communicate doesn’t match how my mind works or how I process things.
I’ve adapted as much as I can, softened my approach, and still—there are gaps. That tells me the problem isn’t how I’m communicating. It’s how the system works.
I don’t turn this tiredness into self‑blame anymore. I don’t think my need for clarity is a problem, or that being worn out means I didn’t try hard enough to fit in.
Some days, this environment is just heavy. Even when I handle things well. Even when I’m careful with how I speak. Even when I use the right language.
I know what I’m seeing. I’m just saying it’s a lot to carry. And today, putting it into words is how I find some relief.
The environment hasn’t changed, but my understanding of it has. And in that, I can finally stop trying to fix what isn’t mine to carry.
To anyone who happens to find this piece: welcome to Thea’s Truths & Thresholds. I’ve learned that the best way I can honor you is to stay honest with myself first. My hope is that by finding my own clarity, I might help you find yours, too. But if these words stay here in the quiet, that’s okay, too. Read more about the intention of Thea’s Truths & Thresholds here, A Letter to Myself: Why I am Building Thea’s Truths & Thresholds.
This is my sanctuary. And in this sanctuary,
I am finally home.
A Note on a New Direction:
After a month of blogging and 20 posts, starting on 13 January 2026, some of my future entries take a more personal shape—letters to myself and dialogues among the different voices of my lived experience. I will still share traditional reflections as they come, but for now, the path leads deeper into the sanctuary.
Thea's Truths & Thresholds 
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