Follow
Spent 1 hour deciding over these boots. Choosing between size 8 or 9, with different size on each foot. After 30 mins of testing, sales lady says "Ay sorry pareho pala size 8!" Ang cute mo miss!
I have just undergone a 2-D echo and a stress test. No, I'm not going to go through an angioplasty. God help me, no. I'm just going on a 10 day trek in Nepal and I want to make sure I'm as fit as racer on a Tour de France.
Back in my single days, I could not care less if I do a dive after dive even if I'm really bad at it (buoyancy and ear problems). I would take calculated but a little bit too quick and hasty steps down a mountain, albeit a ravine. I would jump from a cliff and scream at the top of my lungs. And all I would care about was "when is the next one?"
Now that I have kids, the most physically challenging task I have to endure is to take very, very, very deep breaths to keep calm while tutoring my kids. Somehow, parenting has switched on my safety fears to a very high level. I cannot get sick big time. I cannot be disabled. I cannot die.
I realize that fear for my very own life is proportional to the age of the people dependent on me. The younger my kids are, the higher my subconscious fear to stay alive and healthy. My kids need me to be healthy and sound. I mean, who would think of their food? Who would remind them for the nth time to brush their teeth? Who would scream at them and give them a big tight hug after?
In my bucket list is to do a sky dive, I would have to hold off on that for now.