31/10/2025
[JOSENIANS MOVING FORWARD]
CTRL + ALT + Begin: A Life Unpaused
by Kristian John Wahing | FORWARD Probationary Writer
Life doesn’t always run smoothly. Sometimes, it crashes, freezes, and forces you to hit restart.
For Jed Tumulak, a 25-year-old first-year BS Accountancy student, that reset came after seven years of navigating the monotony and exhaustion of the call center industry—a world he entered when college felt like an unreachable dream.
While most of his classmates pursued their degrees after senior high, Jed traded classrooms for cubicles, lectures for ringing phones, and youthful idealism for the demands of survival.
Now, after years of working through the noise of ringing lines and restless shifts, he’s back in a classroom—not to chase what’s been lost, but to reclaim what’s always been his: a chance to build the life he once had to postpone.
System on Hold
After senior high, Jed’s plans collapsed with his family’s finances. His younger sister’s battle with leukemia drained their savings and left their family business struggling.
“When you see your parents struggling, you just do what you can,” he said.
For three years, Jed sold coconuts in the public market before moving into the BPO industry. At first, the job felt like freedom—his first paycheck, his first taste of independence.
“Nakapalit ko og mga butang nga sauna, pangandoy ra. For the first time, I felt independent,” he shared.
But that freedom came with at a cost. Working through the night, enduring insults from strangers, and living by the rhythm of ringing phones took its toll. The repetition was numbing.
“They say ‘don’t take it personally,’ but it gets to you. Matingala na lang ka nga wala na kay gana, murag robot ka,” he admitted.
Six companies later, nothing changed. The paychecks kept him alive, but not fulfilled.
The Reboot Decision
Jed’s turning point didn’t come in a single moment of inspiration—it came from weariness. The job that once gave him stability had turned into a loop. The cycle of fatigue, rent, and empty paydays felt endless.
“I thought I was okay. I was earning, helping my family. Pero sa tinuod lang, wala koy kalipay,” he reflected.
Then came heartbreak. Falling in love and losing her forced him to face himself. It was a small pain that opened a deeper truth: that he had been moving without direction.
“When you lose something important, you start questioning everything. Gipangutana nako akong kaugalingon, mao ra ba gyud ni kutob nako?” he mused.
Starting over wasn’t easy. There were doubts heavier than any night shift—questions of whether his mind was still sharp enough for school, whether his age would set him apart, or whether the world would even wait for him.
“Hadlok ko nga basin dili nako kabalo mo-iskwela. Dugay na kaayo nga wala koy gi-answer nga exam or nagbasa og libro,” he confessed.
Even the idea of balancing work and study felt impossible.
With a night job that ended at dawn, and classes that began by morning, time became a luxury he didn’t have.
Still, his mother’s faith in him outweighed his fear.
“She told me, ‘ikaw napud, anak.’ Mao to nga ni-resign ko. Ana ko sa akong kaugalingon, basta, sugdan na gyud ni,” he said.
New System, Old Lessons
Walking into a college classroom again after seven years felt surreal. During the JCAT, he joked that he looked more like the parent of an examinee than an actual student.
“It was a weird experience since I looked like I was accompanying my siblings who were about to take the entrance exams,” he said.
When the first day of classes came, nerves took over.
“I felt out of place, and something inside me was screaming ‘go home,’ but I knew it was too late to turn back,” he added.
Over time, though, he realized that age mattered less than effort. Everyone in that classroom was starting from the same point of uncertainty.
His maturity, once something that made him feel distant, became his advantage. Years in the workforce taught him discipline, patience, and perspective. He no longer feared failure the way he once did.
“I used to think education was optional. Now I couldn’t stress enough the opposite. Diskarte and credentials shouldn’t be separate—they should work together,” he shared.
Jed’s mother now supports his education, encouraging him to focus solely on studying, especially since Accountancy demands full commitment.
“But I don’t want her to carry that burden for five years, so I’m exploring freelancing with my brother to help pay for my tuition,” he added.
For him, education is no longer a race, rather it’s a reconstruction. A way of reclaiming control over a life that once moved only out of necessity.
Unpausing the Future
For Jed, starting again is both a return and a rebirth—an act of strength against the years that told him it was too late.
Fear almost held him back: the fear of being left behind, of repeating mistakes, of no longer belonging.
But somewhere between the weight of regret and the whisper of hope, he chose to move.
“Dili ko magpaabot nga naay moingon nga proud sila nako. Ang importante, proud ko sa akong kaugalingon nga nisugod ko balik,” he said.
Every quiz answered, every page turned, and every sleepless night spent studying becomes proof that time, once lost, can still be redeemed through courage.
Because courage, for Jed, isn’t found in grand gestures—it’s found in quiet persistence. In the will to try again after years of doubt. In the strength to believe that change is still possible.
And as he continues to move forward, Jed Tumulak reminds us that no matter how long the break or how heavy the doubts, it’s never too late to unpause the future.
Visuals by Therese Margarette Racaza | FORWARD Staff Artist