Fight and flight
Stop worrying about everything for five minutes. Don’t think about your to-do list or your calendar. Don’t think about your problems. Disregard all material aspects for a while, and ask yourself: What do you really want?
To escape. That’s what I would’ve answered to that question seven years ago. That’s when I thought to myself that I needed to do something to get away and live a better life, that things wouldn’t get any better that easily. So I decided there would be no way I would stay in the Philippines for long. I had to get away.
I was ending high school and about to start college when these thoughts came to mind. So I decided that I needed to devise my escape plan as early as then, toward an end point of me being someplace else in the West permanently. They seemed to have it all figured out there. It looked like a wonderland with no poor people, no political problems, and everybody lived a comfortable life. With this vision in mind, I decided to throw away my dream of becoming a doctor and go for my second-choice degree. After four years, I aimed to graduate, get a decent job, and work for maybe a couple of years or so just to gain experience. This would be my stepping stone to fly to the faraway land that I hoped would be my salvation.
I finished college and found a good job as an IT professional, an operations analyst. It didn’t take me long to realize that my plan seemed to be working and was executing itself smoothly, to my delight. I was independent. I had money. I had control of my time. And all of this was unfolding while I was still young. I had the rest of my life to do this.
But that was the catch. I was young. I am young. And I was already giving up.
I was giving up my dream. I was giving up on my country. I’d like to say, “Well, that’s just me,” but sadly, no, it’s not just me. I’m just one of the many kids of my generation that have given up hope for our country. How many more may have the same idea of just raising the white flag and shrugging the Philippines aside? How many people here felt like they didn’t have a choice, that working and living in another nation was the only option they had to build a better life both for themselves and the families left to stay? How many of us had already given up?
I was a stone’s throw away from the greatest escape I so longed for and spent years planning, but then I thought that what I was choosing to do was quite sudden. I was ready to flee. But did I even bother to fight?
It happens so often: We’re presented a situation and we automatically have a decision we slightly favor. It’s during these difficult decision-making moments that we need to take a breather and ponder if something is still worth fighting for. Sometimes it may feel like you don’t have any option left, but I think this can’t be said too often: You always have a choice. It won’t always be evident, and it won’t always be easy to believe, but options do exist. One is definitely more enticing than the other, but the point is, you have the power to choose what you want to happen and how you will make it happen.
Yes, our country is far from excelling in certain aspects. We have more demands than we can possibly list down for national progress. And though it may sound like I have my head in the clouds in saying this, I’ve finally realized that maybe, just maybe, we can help, even with the littlest things. We don’t have to get away from all these problems by hiding under a foreign rock; we have our own local boulders to hang on to.
It may seem impossible to make a change for the country as regular people, but have we tried looking at the fighting side first before choosing to surrender? Are we turning into the generation that instantly sees what to dislike in our country rather than find a way to make things work? I had nearly given up hope for my own country, and along with it, the doctor dream, just to find an easier and faster way out. We often take what’s right in front of us for granted and then, like only humans do, go looking for them once they’re out of our reach.
There’s simply too much to leave behind in this country, and I thought I could probably help more if I stayed because even the smallest glimmer of hope can mean something. I wasn’t even sure if it would be possible for me to contribute any change and opt to stay this late in the game, already with too much to lose and too much lost. But you know what? If you want something more than you fear the consequences, you’ll find a way for it.
I suddenly wanted to remain here and I wanted to help. I wanted to do something more. I wanted to help save a life instead of saving files. I wanted to be a doctor. And now that I’m (finally) in medical school, I’m reminded every day of why I want to stay and help here instead of leaving and serving in other countries. This country felt like a broken body. I’m definitely not a chosen hero to cure the nation of whatever is bothering it, but in my way, I will lend a hand in trying to heal it.
As Filipinos, we’re all too familiar with the saying “Kung ayaw may dahilan, kung gusto may paraan.” If we want a better Philippines, we’ll find something to do about it rather than complain. We’ll find a way to fight the temptation to leave. Find a way to start climbing up without pulling people down. Find a way to do what you’re passionate about while choosing to stay and rebuild.
Seven years ago I wanted to escape, to simply choose my flight impulse instead of fight. But have you ever thought that maybe you can do both? After all, life has some gray areas. Why not dig into the creases every now and then? Flight doesn’t always mean you have to get away from something. Flying doesn’t always mean being free to escape. You can fly and be somewhere higher than where you already are. You can fly and still look down at the majesty that is your roots, and land back in the place that is home. When you fly, take it as an opportunity to see the bigger picture and to take a good, long look at what you really want.
Now, let’s try this again. Stop worrying about everything for five minutes. Drop your to-do list, your calendar. Don’t think about your problems. Disregard all material aspects for a while, and ask yourself: What do you really want?
Yvannessa Santos, 22, is a first year MD-MPA student at the Bicol University College of Medicine.
