Jeepneys in the Philippines are mercilessly fast-paced. Hot-headed conductors don't wait for naive girls who have empty pockets and an unmarked destination. It was no wonder that my jeepney-esque life left me stranded with anxiety in 2025. Even after the clock struck twelve.
There had always been an unspoken need for speed for eldest daughters like me. Finding the perfect timing had become the bare minimum. I was deemed too young to be ambitious and too old to be settling for mediocrity. Being nineteen meant college was knocking and marriage became a family gift I wanted to deny. The pressure of success weighed on my shoulders like a checkpoint my jeep had to pass before I made my parents proud.
The year 2026 felt big. As the fireworks boomed, my heart thudded in synchronized rhythm, my mind at unrest. Starting the new year would mean having to face potholes in the road. Being in 12th grade, our work immersion and the idea of college haunted me with mental images of blown fuses and mental burnout. Turning twenty this year would mean the baggage of adulting would be mine to carry, and the word “teen” would become a safe space long gone.
Around the world, mostly in Asia, the societal pressure for eldest daughters to live up to their parents’ expectations have become a toxic cultural norm long haunting women. As if being born a first born daughter was something they had to make up for. Throughout the course of history, daughters had been viewed with much prejudice, and being the eldest one weighed in so much more.
My siblings are different from me. I had realized that long before the clock struck twelve and midnights turned into deadlines in my mind. I was the family's pillar and my dreams had to echo their footsteps.
During New Year's Eve, the Media Noche feast with my relatives didn't help my nerves. The food was scrumptious—buttered shrimp, roast beef, grapes. My plate, however, wasn't piled up with food but questions probing my future decisions. Digesting a spoonful meant swallowing college applications and suggestions for possible marriage candidates. This pushed me to go outside to think and clear my head. I couldn't let my fear swallow my faith.
The clock had already struck twelve. Automobiles honked, cheers hooted and the echo of trumpets lingered to greet the new year. Everybody was all aboard their jeepney ready to conquer life no matter the obstacles the year had in store.
I, however, was stuck in the jeep terminal and my life was passing me by. Hesitation shackled my feet and I couldn't grasp 2026. The year felt like a fast and bumpy ride and fear was present. Then, realization hit me. Life doesn't wait for you to be brave enough to get over your past. Refusing to take a step forward means missing your present.
A quote from Saint Thomas Aquinas surfaced in me, “If the present belongs to man, the future belongs to God. And anxiety arises when the soul tries to carry both.” My faith is stronger than my fear. Letting go and letting God was the answer to my worries.
With that in mind, I held onto the railings of my future. Hopeful, faithful, and somehow still naive but daring. I didn't have to be ready, I just had to be brave enough to get on. The jeepney ride so far has been smooth, and I wouldn't trade my January experience for the world.
This journey is mine.
After all, everyone was all aboard and I refused to be left behind.
Written by Gillian Reyes, Insight PH
Gillian Reyes, Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
