Padayon lang, Nanay

06/08/2025

Ask yourself

04/06/2025

I can’t imagine her pain. Naagyan ko gid ini.
I’ve been in dark places too…
But never once did it cross my mind to end my children’s lives because of their narcissistic, irresponsible father.

Instead, I told myself:
“May adlaw gid nga makatibawas ako..”

And it happened.
Twenty years since I walked away from that life.

Life is still hard — but this peace?
This freedom from chaos and fear?
It’s worth every step.

Sometimes, survival means choosing the harder road…
but also the quieter one.

Because being stress-free — even if life stays messy —
is more important than staying in a place that breaks you.

To all mothers out there who feel like they’re drowning—
Please know this:
Your children are not the burden.
They are the reason you will rise again.

You are stronger than you think.
Padayon lang, Nanay. You deserve peace too.

This is truly heartbreaking. This isn’t just a story of one mother. It’s a wake-up call. 😭💔

Isang ina. 47 years old. Pinatay niya ang kanyang anak na si Esteban—isang batang may autism—at pagkatapos, nagpakamatay.

Before she did it, she wrote a letter to her husband, Fernando Cuello. And in that letter, she poured out everything she had kept inside—yung sakit, yung pagod, yung pakiramdam ng pag-iisa.

She said:

“Now you’ll be able to live your life, you won’t have to travel anymore. All I asked for was a hug for Esteban and me, a kiss in the morning before you went to work. We didn’t ask for much… We won’t beg you for more. You’ll remember us for the rest of your life.”

***

There are no words strong enough to capture the weight of this story—not just as a tragedy of a mother and her child, but as a painful reminder of how deep the wounds of silence, loneliness, and lack of support can go.

All she asked for was a hug. A kiss. A little presence. Not wealth, not grand solutions—just presence. But in a world filled with noise, kakulangan ng suporta, ng yakap, ng malasakit— she collapsed under the weight of it all.

Sometimes the most needed things are the quietest ones: listening, understanding, compassion.

This isn’t just a story of one mother. It’s a wake-up call.

To fathers, friends, family—be there. Don’t let quiet suffering turn into something irreversible.

To all the mothers fighting alone: you are not alone. You matter. You deserve to be heard.

And to all of us—be the light for someone else. Sometimes, a simple “How are you?” or a hug can truly save a life.

We don’t talk about that enough—mental health, emotional abandonment, the quiet suffering inside homes. We need to stop shaming people for needing help. We need to be softer, kinder, more present.

This isn’t just about one tragic story. This is about so many mothers, na araw-araw lumalaban nang mag-isa. Walang tulong. Walang pahinga. Walang karamay.

Kaya kung may kilala kang pagod, tahimik, at tila nawawala na sa sarili—kumusta mo. Yakapin mo. Pakinggan mo.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes to save a life.

Rest in peace to this mother and her son. And may we, the living, never ignore what this silence was trying to scream. 🕊️💔
CCTO

( Reference from AmoMama.com )

30/05/2025

I wonder.. wonder kung paano ko nakayanan..
Wonder woman gid man..✌️

The real superheroes don't wear capes, they work from home. 💛✨️

23/05/2025

Sometimes, we don’t need answers — just presence.
Just a hug. Just a quiet moment with the one you’re doing it all for.

Padayon lang, Nanay.

💛 Save this for the days you feel like giving up.
📥 Share it with another Nanay who needs this reminder today.

22/05/2025

Let them misunderstand.
Let them think you’ve changed.
Let them say it’s too much.

You don’t owe explanations to people who only see the version of you they’re comfortable with.

You’re healing. That’s sacred.

So breathe. Set boundaries. Choose peace.

Padayon lang, Nanay. 💛

20/05/2025

Daw indi na matapos nga buluhaton
Kag kadasig sang mga inadlaw

Batyagan ko gid ina, Iloy
But, let's take time to pause for a moment

Pasalamat ta — sa mga grasya nga nabaton
Sa kabuhi nga bisan mabudlay, sige gihapon

Makapoy, pero sige lang ah
Amo gid kita na nga mga Nanay — padayon lang para sa mga kabataan naton. 💛

17/05/2025

Not every day feels like progress.
But tonight, I’m holding on to this:

I am not who I was a year ago.
I carry more grace now — even if I’m still learning.
I walk slower — but I walk with more truth.

Healing doesn’t shout.
Sometimes, it just means not giving up on yourself — even on the quiet days.

💛 Padayon lang, Nanay.

📥 Save this for the nights you forget how far you’ve come.

16/05/2025

I was called controlling.
Because I stepped in. Because I drew a line. Because I refused to stay quiet while my son was walking toward a cliff — holding hands with people who couldn’t see the fall.

It hurts, you know?
Being painted as the villain… when all you did was try to protect your child from becoming someone he’s not.
From turning back into someone he fought so hard to grow away from.

He doesn’t see it now.
To him, I’m just interfering.
“Too much.” “Always in his business.”
But what he doesn’t see is what I’m carrying —
the fear, the long nights, the aching knowledge that what looks like rebellion… might actually be PAIN.

Let me be clear:
I don’t regret protecting him.
Even if it means being cast out of his story right now.
Even if it means he only sees me through angry eyes.

One day, maybe, he’ll understand.
That I stepped in because I saw the danger first.
That I spoke up because I couldn’t bear to watch him become a version of himself that hurts him in the end.

I’m not sorry for loving him this much.
I’m only sorry that he can’t feel it right now.

– A Nanay who will still show up
Even if she has to stand at a distance.

15/05/2025

Dear Son,

You talk to me like I’m just anyone.
Like I’m some woman off the street who deserves no softness, no care.
You throw words like “Tan-awon ta!” — abe mo hampang lang ini, like you’re testing how far you can push before I break.

But I’m not a stranger.
I’m the mother who carried you. Fed you. Stayed up late worrying over you.

And still, I hear your voice, cold and sharp — and I wonder where that little boy went.
The one who used to need me.
The one who used to love me.

But maybe this is what it looks like when a mother sets the boundary.
Maybe this is what happens when the woman you always thought would bend… finally stops bending.

You’ll test me.
But you won’t break me.

Because I already broke before. Quietly. Alone.
And from those pieces, I built a new version of me — one that doesn’t chase love, especially not from the child she raised with love.

Te, tan-awon ta, ah!

Let’s see how far YOU'LL go before you realise:
I am still your mother.
And I will love you from a safe distance if I have to.

– Nay

14/05/2025

This is one of those weeks.

I’m not here to pretend everything’s okay.
I’m here to keep showing up—even if it’s just by breathing through the heaviness.

If you’re feeling the same, this space is for you.
For quiet strength. For gentle healing.
Padayon lang, Nanay. 🌾

📥 DM if you need to breathe.
💛 Save this post. Share it with another tired soul.