How it began

So, I guess it’s right to say that we all have our origin story for why we’re here—why we chase dreams, seek experiences, and do what we do. Mine is probably not so different from yours, but let me start with a bit about how I grew up.

I come from a big small city in the Philippines—big in terms of land area (943.48 sq mi, though that detail doesn’t really matter!) but not as congested or developed as Manila. It was spacious enough to explore but small enough to bump into everyone and everything.

Growing up, my grandmother—my mom’s mom—frequented New York. I grew up watching movies and TV series set there, and during her visits, she’d often call to tell me about her day, where she went, what she did, and I’d live vicariously through her stories. She brought back photos, souvenirs, and chocolates, all of which made the city feel magical to me. So, I grew up feeling called to one day live in the city that never sleeps. I didn’t know how, when, or what that would look like, but I knew I was meant to be there.

For college, I never thought too hard about my major. I just knew I wanted to “save the world” and maybe work for the UN or be an everyday hero. (How naive, I know!) But my parents didn’t think those were very practical aspirations. So, my mom suggested Physical Therapy—her brother was already a PT and making his way to the U.S.—so I went with it. I think a lot of Asian parents want their kids in either (1) Medicine, (2) Law, or (3) Politics. Options 2 and 3 weren’t for me, especially after seeing the messiness up close. So PT it was.

During my PT school internship, I realized it was a lot like saving the world—helping one person at a time so they could, hopefully, pay it forward. My mom might have been right. After getting licensed, I was lucky to work in a niche practice and meet empowered people who reignited my dream of moving to the States. But that move ended up taking much longer than expected.

Originally, I had a six-year timeline: five years of college, and then a year to work on my local and New York licenses. But life had other plans. I finished my studies and certifications in 2019 but didn’t make it to the U.S. until 2024. That’s 13 years after high school! By then, I had built my practice and felt settled in a little island called Siargao (that’s another story).

Then one day, I got an email: my visa was ready, and I had to come. I wasn’t exactly rushing to leave, though, and I hadn’t thought much about it in a while. But when my lawyer advised me to start the process immediately, I gave myself just over a month to close my clinic, say goodbye to my island community, and spend time with family. It was hard—I was rushing, not because I was excited to leave, but because I remembered a conversation with a friend who’d said, “If it comes, take it—you’ll never be this young again to experience the city the way you could now.”

So I packed up and left. And here I am. It’s no joke; I still feel a bit displaced and am adjusting, but it feels right.

Anyway, I’ll continue this later—I’m running a bit late for work.