“Deserve” mo ba talaga ‘yan?
This makes me reflect on my upbringing and the values instilled in me during my childhood.
I come from a family that had next to nothing, and even now, not much has changed. But as a kid, I never felt we were poor. My father worked as a construction laborer, and my mother ran a small sari-sari store that barely made enough to keep us going. Even so, those modest earnings were stretched to cover our needs, and they poured all they had into making us feel secure.
It wasn’t until high school that I started noticing everything we never had — the little luxuries other kids took for granted, like fancy toys, their own TV sets, and even a box of crayons with more than eight colors. Yet, instead of feeling resentment, I found myself filled with pride. Somehow, my parents had managed to raise me in a world that felt full, even when there was barely enough to go around.
When I finally landed my first job, I won’t lie, I felt a fierce longing to “treat myself,” to dive into the little frills I had always craved but never tasted. I could almost hear the siren call of a Happy Meal, the thrill of picking out a new shirt whenever my heart desired. Sure, I could have bought into the trendy notion of “reparenting” my inner child, as so many do these days, but there wasn’t anything broken to fix. My parents, despite their struggles, were nothing short of extraordinary. They may not have had much to give, but they poured love into every moment of my life. Each time I splurged on something to treat myself, I wasn’t indulging in mending old wounds; I was celebrating a hard-fought journey and savoring the sweetness of a life that had finally opened its doors to me.
But my journey doesn’t erase the truth that many people from my generation have faced far more traumatic experiences in their upbringing. For them, the idea of “healing their inner child” often manifests through purchasing physical items. These tangible goods become a means of filling the void left by neglect or hardship. Whether it’s the allure of a trendy outfit or the excitement of the latest gadget, these purchases can feel like a way to reclaim lost joy — an attempt to bridge the gap between what was and what they wish could have been.
The price of self-care
In our culture, where self-care often intertwines with consumerism, it’s easy to conflate these heartfelt gestures with mindless excess. Consumerism, the relentless urge to consume and accumulate, has earned a bad reputation. But instead of directing our blame at individuals who share their healing journeys through their purchases, why not focus on the corporations that exploit these desires?
These big corporations thrive on our insecurities and craft narratives that suggest happiness is just a purchase away. They inundate us with advertising that plays on our emotions and encourage us to seek fulfillment through their products. So, why do we feel compelled to call out those who indulge in these experiences? Is it to elevate ourselves as morally superior, to project the image of someone who understands better?
Labeling those who buy things or pay for experiences they didn’t have the chance to enjoy before as mere consumers is an oversimplification. It’s akin to blaming uneducated voters every time traditional politicians, or “trapos,” win elections, ignoring the systemic issues that shape their choices. Instead of casting judgment, we should be having deeper conversations about the structures that perpetuate this cycle of consumption and the emotional voids it seeks to fill.
Coping diversity
Healing requires feeling. Every time I glance at my Pokémon toys, I’m hit with an instant rush of joy, whisking me back to my childhood, a time when all I could afford were “teks” game cards. That wave of nostalgia makes me reflect on the distance I’ve traveled in life. In those moments, I can’t help but feel a surge of empathy and compassion for others who are still in the thick of their struggles.
Not everyone finds healing in the same way, and that’s okay. When we judge how others cope, we overlook an important truth: if their purchases make them feel something — whether it’s joy, comfort, or connection — and if those feelings lead them to greater compassion for themselves and others, then their actions are not fruitless.
And if it’s not fruitless, it’s not consumerism. It becomes a valid expression of self-care. What may seem like a trivial purchase to one might hold profound meaning for another. Healing is about what stirs within us, and if it leads to a deeper understanding of ourselves and others, then it’s a journey worth celebrating, not dismissing.
Some individuals within the so-called “woke Twitter” bubble, often from privileged backgrounds and elite universities, criticize others not out of genuine concern for those in need or a desire for a world without hunger, but rather from a superiority complex that only deepens the divide they claim to fight against. Do not be swayed by them.
Allow yourself to heal, and do it responsibly. There’s a unique joy in celebrating every hard-earned achievement, especially when you come from a background that didn’t offer much. Embracing your journey authentically is far more fulfilling than performing the role of the oppressed, tweeting from the comfort of an air-conditioned room, with the luxury of time on your hands, far removed from the very struggles you claim to understand.