Kristine Pierce - Write, Publish, Inspire

16/08/2025

16/08/2025

16/08/2025

16/08/2025

My Australian Dream:

Every time my friends ask me how I got to Australia, I always jokingly reply, “Nag-eroplano!” (I took an airplane). Well, it’s true, but it wasn’t that easy.

I was 26 then, broke and jobless. Worse, I had just broken up with an ex and was back living at my parents’ house. I was asking my Papa for 50 Php every day just to buy mobile credit, or to chip in for a bottle of local gin. I babysat my newborn nephew during the day and got wasted at night. My siblings would feed me whenever I visited their homes, without ever asking for anything in return.

I was a mess. With my unkempt hair and alcohol breath, you’d know I was going through a rough patch. It felt like a quarter-life crisis.

Then I realised, maybe karma had hit me. And quite strongly, to be honest. I had been too proud when I was at the peak of my young and blooming career. I was showy and braggy. Worst of all, I didn’t share much of my blessings with my family.

So, after learning those hard lessons, I started to pick myself up. I presented a concrete plan to my parents, convincing them to entrust their retirement fund to support my Australian dream. With help from my family — pooling resources and borrowing money from relatives — we finally raised enough to pursue my plan of moving to Sydney.

While I was processing my visa and waiting for approval, three bad omens struck: I was hospitalised with dengue fever (Mama paid for it), I had a motorbike accident (I self-treated a huge blister on my lower left leg), and I was punched in the face by a random guy one night, which gave me a black eye and left my upper lip and right cheek numb. (A big hematoma came out from my nose, but I never saw a doctor.)

We have a superstitious belief that before something big happens, bad omens appear. And I believe those were mine.

After all that pre-departure chaos, I finally received my student visa and booked a one-way ticket to Sydney.

With $170 AUD in my pocket, I flew to Australia. It was around 10 PM on the 6th of November, 2011, when I first set foot on the Land Down Under. I was full of hope, motivation, anxiety, and excitement.

I stayed with my cousins for free and began job hunting. It was tough, but my past experiences living abroad helped me adapt more quickly. And I knew that if ever I ran out of money or needed help, my cousins had my back.

Eventually, I had to move out and start managing life on my own. My budget became even tighter. I juggled two to three jobs just to cover tuition and daily expenses. I worked as a kitchen hand in a seafood restaurant, basically doing everything my manager asked. I also worked in an engineering factory operating machines and doing greasy labour. On top of that, I started working as a carer in a nursing home, and I helped out in a bakery owned by my former flatmate in exchange for cheaper rent.

Honestly, I’d do anything back then just to earn money. I even worked on my birthday, Christmas, New Year and every holiday to get those extra pays.

To save more, I slashed my food budget down to nearly zero. Most of my expenses like rent and transport were fixed, so only food was flexible. I lived on 90-cent canned tuna and rice. I ate for free at the seafood restaurant during my shifts. I made friends with the nursing home’s kitchen staff so they’d give me extra meals. And whenever I visited my cousins or friends, they’d pack food for me to take home.

I also remember how my Uni friends and I used to share lunches and chip in for cheap Tuesday meal deals. And every time I went out for drinks, I was a freeloader.

I’ll never forget the first time I broke down after moving here. I was on break from my kitchen hand job and called my family. I tried to be strong, despite how hard things were. But I couldn’t hold back my tears when I spoke to one of my brothers and said, “Sorry, dae pa ako makakabayad utang.” (“Sorry, I can’t pay you back yet.”) I just cried over the phone. Then I composed myself because I still had a dinner shift in the kitchen that night.

During those tough times, something happened that gave me hope. One night, after missing my bus home from work, I had to wait 45 minutes in the rain for the next one. When I finally got on, a Filipino guy started talking to me. I’ll never forget what he said: “Pray ka lang. Hindi ka naman papapuntahin ni Lord dito kung pababayaan ka lang N’yang mag-isa.” (“Just keep praying. The Lord wouldn’t bring you here only to abandon you.”)

Those were the words I needed to hear that night.

I knew I was taking a calculated risk. I knew success would depend mostly on me with a little bit of luck. But it was my faith that kept me going.

Mindful that I had used my parents’ retirement fund for this dream, I pushed through every hardship with grit and determination.

And I made it.

I finished my nursing degree and became a registered nurse in Australia. Not long after, I became a permanent resident and eventually, an Australian citizen.

Australia has been kind to me. But my journey to get here wasn’t as simple as hopping on a plane.

And truly, it was all worth it. 💫

– Archie Parafina

PS: This month I’m celebrating my 9th year as an Australian Citizen. 🙏🏽 🇦🇺

16/08/2025

🥺💔

Kahit anong tanda ko, siya pa rin ang unang tatawagan ko kapag may masakit sa katawan. Kahit alam kong wala siyang gamot, kapag nariyan kasi siya lahat gumagaan.

Siya ang laging nagsasabing, “Kumain ka na ba?” kahit halata sa boses ko na mas marami akong iniisip kaysa kinakain. Siya ang naghahanda ng ulam na ayaw niya pero gusto ko, ang gumigising sa akin kapag sobra na ang tulog ko, at nagpapahinga lang siya kapag nakita niyang ayos na ako.

Tama nga si mama, kapag nawala siya hindi lang ako mawawalan ng magulang. Mawawalan ako ng tahanan kahit saan ako nakatira.

Tama nga siya. Kawawa ako. Pero mas nagiging kawawa ako dahil hindi ko man lang nasabi kung gaano ko siya kamahal bago siya mawala.

16/08/2025

💜🥺🥹

I gaze up at the sky to say Good Morning to you.

I picture you dancing up there. With a body that now allows you to be free.

Without struggle. Without pain or worry. Just free.

Oh…and with a new found peace that I can’t even begin to comprehend here in this sometimes broken world.

I picture you happy. Glowing. Safe.

Sometimes you join the others who arrived before you or await the new arrivals in a joyful reunion.

Other times you explore the areas that make it Heaven to you. Your favorite colors…music..scents..surround you as gaze in wonder at the beauty before you.

Time is different.
Nobody is in a hurry to get anything done….

Because it is done.

And rest an enjoyment in the most perfect venue is deserved. An eternal paradise.

I close my eyes. And picture you up there. Hoping you are wrapped up in a blanket of love.

And though I can’t fathom the distance between Heaven and Earth…
I hope you still feel mine too.

I admit time for me has been a difficult aspect of grief since you have gone there…

Because each minute that ticks by I miss you so much more.

But I take solace knowing someday it won’t matter.

Because on that day you will be among the first to welcome me home.

I can picture this highly anticipated embrace.

Our conversations. Our laughter.

On the day that will start OUR forever.

And that’s all I can ever hope for.

16/08/2025

I was the next steve jobs 🤣💯

16/08/2025

Join for free.

15/08/2025

Many people think that grieving is a deep sadness about the past…

And that is somewhat correct.

When we replay all of the memories of our yesterdays with them.
It becomes the soundtrack to our present.

Always looking back to when life was easier. When it felt carefree. When they were always here.
Just a drive or a phone call away.

But now..
When we try to connect..
It now looks different.

Sorting through all the photographs..
Or
Trying to profect that recipes of the food they used to make..

Listening to the songs they loved..
And..
Holding on to the distinct sound of their laugh before it fades..

Over and over again.
On repeat.

But not everything is about the past.

Actually..
Most of grieving is about the future.

It’s the future moments that wont be spent together.
The days that no longer encompass their presence.
The silence after we tell them we miss them.

This is why grief is so hard.
We want so badly to go back to a time when they were here.
But we can’t.
So we try to bring them into our present…
but that also feels so empty..
Because the physical part of them has vanished.

And every morning we step into another day without them
And..
even further from the last time we held them close..

A time lapse of struggling and learning to let go of what once was..

And what might have been..

It’s not linear. Never streamlined. It ebbs and flows. Always messy and carries a degree of pain.

No matter of where we are on our grief journey.

And even the good moments..
Are now bittersweet.

A part of me is always missing.
A piece that left on the hardest day of my life.
But I know where that part went.
And that is the only thing that gives me solace.

That is grief to me.

11/08/2025

Sometimes it feels like others are afraid of catching our grief.