Before Memorial Day weekend began, I met up with a friend to catch up—and unexpectedly found myself diving deep into some emotional truths. We talked about my volunteer experience with a Deaf organization where I had served on the board. I opened up about the toxic environment I faced—how some people tried to tear me down. I shared that although I walked through that time with strength on the outside, inside I was hurting. It was a hard chapter, but one full of lessons.

I didn’t hold back. I told him the real deal—not just the challenges, but the small wins too. I wanted him to have the full picture because he was considering joining that very organization. Despite everything, I encouraged him. I truly believe that place needs strong, fresh leadership and new faces with heart and vision. He appreciated my honesty.

From there, our conversation flowed into a powerful discussion about Deaf identity and culture. I admitted something vulnerable: that I sometimes don’t feel “Deaf enough.” I can sign fluently—I am Deaf—but I don’t always feel like I fit the big capital-D Deaf mold. I’m still learning. And that’s okay. I told him that for people like us—Deaf folks who grew up hearing, or who come from hearing families—our Deaf identity is layered. For me, I identify as Filipino, Queer, and Deaf, in that order. That’s my intersectionality. It’s personal, and it’s evolving. He nodded, identifying himself proudly as Asian and Deaf, and it felt good—he got it. We kept unpacking those layers together.

Then he asked how my marriage with Jenna was going. I didn’t go too deep—grief still lingers there—but I let him know I appreciated him checking in. It meant a lot. Just being seen like that was healing.

The next day, Memorial Day weekend officially started. I chose rest—pure, intentional rest. At first, I planned to chill completely, but then I noticed the cleaning supplies and decided to reset my space. I scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom, and honestly? It felt so good. Like, deeply satisfying.

Later, I watched many movies on my laptop while trying to quiet my thoughts. But I spiraled a bit, falling into the trap of checking social media, especially Jenna’s page. I knew it wasn’t healthy, and it left me drained. That moment was a wake-up call. I paused, reflected, and realized how much I’d been disappearing into the IG world as a way to cope. So I stopped. I told myself—enough.

The rest of the weekend, I focused on resting—my body, my mind, my spirit. And I’m really glad I did.

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Reflection Questions for You:

1. Have you ever found strength in telling someone a hard truth from your past?
2. When have you felt “not enough” in your identity—and how did you reclaim your worth?
3. What identities or intersections shape how you move through the world?
4. Do you ever catch yourself spiraling online—and what helps you come back to yourself?
5. What does rest actually look like for you? When’s the last time you gave yourself permission to just be?

Feel free to write your answers somewhere, or just sit with them. Sometimes the questions themselves are the medicine.