I Challenged Myself to Read One Book per Month

I was a book nerd growing up. There was just something about the crisp pages and the stories that came alive; it gave me a sense of peace. Throughout high school, it would be a rarity to find me without a book in hand. There were times that I would check out the maximum amount of books I could from our school’s library because I knew that I would finish one book in one day. I loved getting lost in lives that weren’t mine. And then almost gradually, I stopped picking up books. Or if I did, I would never finish them. Soon the books I purchased ended up only collecting dust on my shelves.

Last year I decided to change that. My 2019 New Year’s resolution was to read, at the very least, one book every month. And very predictably, it joined the rest of everyone’s resolutions in the unaccomplished trash. Towards the end of 2019, I stumbled upon Reese Witherspoon’s book club. I read every review she wrote, adding the books I was most interested in my Amazon Wish List. There was a nagging at the back of my head that told me I wouldn’t actually read any of them.

It wasn’t until November 2019 that I came across One Day in December. It made me fall back in love with reading. It reminded me of the giddy feeling of picking up a book and refusing to put it back down. When December came, I knew that I would be making the same New Year’s resolution as this past year. However, I was more than determined to actually achieve it for my own well-being.

I know that it’s already April, but if you’d like to join in my journey to read one book every month then keep on reading.

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The books below are ordered by month.

January: Love & Gelato

February: The Silent Patient

March: The Breakdown

April: The Anonymous Girls

May: The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

June: How Not to Die Alone

July: The Chestnut Man

August: The Friend Zone

September: Lacy Eye

October: Smaller and Smaller Circles

November: What She Knew

December: We Met in December

* I have completed January - March.

Honestly,

K. Grace

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Comment down below if any of these novels are on your to-read list, or any book recommendations you want me to check out!

I Refuse To Be Ashamed Of My Sexual Assault Anymore

Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault

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Photo by pine watt on Unsplash

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If you haven't seen it yet, I've officially been published. I wrote this angry yet poignant piece about my experience with sexual assault. It was published on Thought Catalog yesterday afternoon at the link below:

I Refuse To Be Ashamed Of My Sexual Assault Anymore

At first, I only wrote it to truly gain an understanding of what I went through. I didn't know whether or not to catalogue it as sexual assault, I just knew that what happened is without a doubt something I never wanted.

After it happened, I scoured the internet for stories of other women who might have experienced something similar. I wanted to know if my pain was validated even after I entered a relationship with him. There were a few stories I managed to find, but it was still scarce. By the time I finished my piece, I realized just how important sharing my words were.

I might have spent at least an hour looking over at my godson and admiring his purity and innocence. I remember thinking, "You don't know malice or spite yet." I know that when I have my own children, I won't be able to protect them from the horrors of the world. I know that if I have a daughter, I won't be able to protect her from the ill intentions of men, no matter how hard I try. So if I have a daughter, and the most unfortunate thing occurs to her too, I want her to be brave and strong. I want her to have no shame in speaking out.

I shared this piece with Thought Catalog for those women who needed to know they are not alone in their struggles. I shared this piece for my future children.

How Two Losses Reaffirmed My Value in Family

Family is the most important value my mother instilled in my generation. She knew how fraught familial relationships in our family became when pride and stubbornness got in the way. My mother witnessed how unresolved issues and anger destroyed relationships and created fractures between them. She refused to see my generation repeat their history.

Throughout my childhood, I was raised alongside my cousins. Our house was divided into three sections to represent three out of five of my grandmother’s children: Reynaldo, the eldest; Zaldy, the second eldest; and my mother, the youngest daughter. It wouldn’t be until after my mother, my sister, and I immigrated to the United States, that my mother’s eldest sister, Daisy, would take over our part of the home. I distinctly remembered our house was always full of joy and laughter because it was a full house. There were childish games of Langit Lupa, late-night drinking and karaoke sessions, and lively family gatherings.

As time went on, I was slowly integrated into the larger Cardenio family, my grandmother’s maiden family. We hosted, more often than not, annual Cardenio family reunions as a way to unite my grandmother’s siblings’ families. There were seven of them, which we had to assign colours for each family to prevent confusion. It was exciting to be part of a larger community beyond myself. I thought it was touching to see how connected we all were.

Because of this upbringing, I didn’t quite discern the idea of your main family versus extended. In my eyes, there was only family. My aunts and uncles helped my parents raise me and it was also because of them that I became the woman I am today. Even though over the past five years we had slowly drifted apart since the last time I went back home in 2015, I knew that we always loved each other. It is for this very reason why losing both my Tatay Reynaldo and Aunt Daisy was even more painful.

When I planned my Philippines trip back in January of this year, I was under the impression that I would make it in time to see Tatay. He had rapidly grown ill in the prior two years following his end-stage kidney failure diagnosis. The last few months of 2019 saw him in an even worse state than what any of us imagined. He couldn’t eat or breathe on his own, and he had to be confined to the hospital for months.

Tatay in Tagalog means father, and that is exactly what he was to me. He was like my father. He was patient with me, would do anything to make me laugh, and protected me from the dangers of the world. It breaks my heart knowing that when he passed late in December, I hadn’t seen him for five years. The last few memories I have of him consist of my grandmother, mother, cousins, and me crowding around an iPhone X Max weeping and pleading with him to garner enough strength to be discharged from the hospital. But I’ll always remember him making sure I was covered when riding his Owner Type Jeep through the humid rains of Manila, turning on the air conditioner in his room because he knew how sensitive I am to the heat, and making the silliest faces just to make me laugh when I’m in one of my moods.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/0c754f_e81312344d3f4d9caaa7252220d1e9d4/480p/mp4/file.mp4

That same trip allowed me to see my Aunt Daisy. At the time, we were already aware of the infection in her foot due to her diabetes. We thought the doctor was able to stop the infection indicating she was safe from further harm. When she came out of her room, tears were building in her eyes at the sight of me. Not only did we not see each other for five years, we hardly talked over the phone. Her tears were disrupted though when I handed her supplies to help treat her infection instead of something more in line with her expectations. My cousins and I laughed about it, and so did she. I didn’t know that would be the last time I would see her. She just passed last week during what was supposed to be a routine leg amputation to prevent the infection from spreading throughout her body. I read my mother’s text while I was sitting in the office, and I couldn’t believe it was the truth. All I could hear was her laughter when she would drunkenly dance and all I could see were her beautiful, tight curls perfectly framing her beaming face.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/0c754f_444bfef1245e46ddbe09b8d4a7b27597/480p/mp4/file.mp4

In light of these two very personal losses that hit our family, it brought some of us closer together. Some ongoing minor feuds and disagreements that caused estrangement had to be pushed aside. What would be the point of holding onto pride and past grudges, if it only meant you lost someone you deeply cared for? If you’re sorry, then say you’re sorry. Because as much as people reject the idea of caring for someone they’re furious with, the reality is it is a clear indication of just how much they care. And beyond that, we must learn the value of forgiveness. We would only hurt ourselves more than the person who had wronged us if we don’t learn to forgive. With the members in our family dwindling, there are only so many of us left that understand each other’s struggles and will unconditionally love one another despite the shortcomings. It's true that we don't get to choose our family, but we get to choose to make it better.

Honestly,

K. Grace

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If you'd like to relive some of my favourite memories with my family, watch these two videos I have from my last few trips home:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=guqY-zqnCxk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T68ZZnFkq-I