It was the happiest I’d been in a long time. I couldn’t help but think back to my past two graduations, both of which carried this quiet weight of sadness. I never imagined a meme could hit so close to home until it mirrored my own journey.
I didn’t graduate on time. I didn’t earn any honors. And yet, somehow, this was the most joyful graduation I’ve ever experienced. Maybe the real takeaway here is that a life built around competition often trades away happiness... and leaves you constantly wondering if you’re really who you say you are.
Back in elementary school, I was the class valedictorian of a small group of 27. My neck was practically drowning in medals. I was Best in English, Filipino, and a few others I can’t even remember now. I gave a speech about my imperfect home life, but I felt oddly detached from the moment. I was already thinking about high school, about being surrounded by classmates who came from more affluent backgrounds. My aunt had convinced my dad to enroll me in a private school, and looking back, I know they were thinking of my future.
I had the chance to go to a science high school, but I turned it down. Deep down, I was afraid. Afraid that I’d find out I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was.
So I played the role of the humble student from a tiny school. I kept my past achievements to myself. To my surprise, I climbed to 4th place out of a batch of 200. Then I hit 3rd place... and stayed there. But when senior year came around, I found myself crying in the Adoration Parish of Fatima Church in Mandaue. I had just learned I was graduating 6th. That moment stung. I didn’t take many pictures. I left high school with something to prove, not to others, but to myself.
College was tough financially. I applied for scholarships - Aboitiz and CHED. I didn’t make the cut for Aboitiz, but I earned a CHED full-merit grant (which wasn’t exactly “full” coverage). I chose Chemical Engineering over Civil because that’s what CHED covered. It seemed practical too... my aunt said it had good opportunities abroad, and my dad, my only real professional role model, was also an engineer.
I didn’t handle failure well, so I took the scholarship rejection hard. I assumed it was because I lacked extracurriculars. So I overcompensated in college... piling on academics, student orgs, even a love life. I swore I wouldn’t go to a science high school, yet somehow ended up committing over six years to scientific study. Looking back, it’s no wonder college felt so heavy. I was doing everything, everywhere, all at once. Total delulu behavior.
Graduation day that year? A mess. I didn’t like my makeup, had a massive pimple, and the hairspray didn’t hold. I had to swap dresses last-minute because my body had changed. My mom and grandma were there, though not exactly on great terms. My boyfriend didn’t graduate with us, and I knew how hard that was for him. That night, I went home, played Taylor Swift’s The Moment I Knew, and cried myself to sleep. My GWA? A 1.79... just shy of the 1.70 needed for Latin honors.
But this time around? It was different. I knew who I was. I knew my limits. I wasn’t rushing just to keep up with others. Sure, I graduated a year late, lost a few friendships, and my outfit almost didn’t make it in time. But I rolled with it. Picked up my dress at the sorting center. Got my makeup done by a dear friend who slayed hair, makeup, the whole look was perfect. My husband and younger sister were there cheering me on. He even got me flowers (and I know they weren’t cheap). I stayed awake the whole ceremony, took tons of photos, and smiled genuinely—even without honors. My GWA? A 1.43... technically honor-worthy, but that wasn’t what mattered.
The real joy came from choice. I chose this MBA path, fully and freely. I paid for it myself. There’s something wildly freeing about that knowing you’re here because you want to be. Not to prove anything. Not to outrun anyone. Just because it feels right.