Before Life Got Loud

Hello, Hivers!

I hope you’re all doing fine.

I’m sharing this as a look back at the places and experiences that shaped me—growing up in simpler times, when life felt slower, tougher maybe, but real.

Things were different then, before life got loud.

A Walk Back to Where It All Began

I went back to my hometown for short visit.

Since I was there, I did a quiet loop of the places that raised me—grade school first, then high school.

First stop was the place we used to stay. Sampaguita Street looked almost the same—familiar houses, familiar corners.

Our house felt different.

Before, the yard was full of plants. My mother loved gardening. Everything looked alive.

Now it’s quieter, a little bare.

San Miguel Elementary (Grades 1–5)
I stood by the school marker, beside the flagpole where we used to do flag ceremony.

Behind me was the covered-court where we held our programs.

After a short walk, the front arch came into view—Paaralang Elementarya ng San Miguel. Nearby, children were laughing and playing by the slide. It was good to see the place still filled with that kind of joy.

Not everything was easy back then. Around Grade 4, I had a classmate who used to bully me.

One day, he pushed a chair, and I fell hard. He called me names—words that stuck longer than they should have.

It hurt, and I carried that pain for a long time. But, you know, depression wasn’t something we talked about much back then. Kids were brought up to be tough, not weak. Maybe it’s because we didn’t depend on social media the way kids do now. We had real activities—playing outside, climbing trees, hanging out with friends—that helped us shake off the bad feelings.

Life felt simpler then. We got hurt, sure, but we found our own ways to heal.

Years later, I stumbled across my old classmate’s Facebook profile—the one who used to bully me. I decided to tell him what he did. He said sorry, and it still felt good to hear it.

Another memory: I was playing and not paying attention. I ran into a barbed wire fence by the field. My forehead got cut. The wound healed, but the scar stayed — a small reminder from my childhood.

We moved to the next town when I was in Grade 6, so I had to transfer to a new school.

Nabua East Central School (Pilot )

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It wasn’t easy starting fresh—new faces, a new place, and the memory of being mocked back in my old school. But I told myself to keep going. I just focused on getting through each day a little stronger than before. It taught me that strength doesn’t always have to be loud—it can be quiet, steady, and kind.

I finished Grade 6 here. I wasn’t part of the pilot section, but I still made it to the honors list. Most of the awards usually went to the pilot classes, so that felt like a small win I was proud of.

High school was at the University****of Saint Anthony—we used to call it USA, though now it’s known as USANT. I stood by the school seal and memories came rushing back: exams, intramurals, JS prom, contests, and walks after class.

One memory from CAT ground training still stands out. There was a commotion during break, and I went to see what was going on. When the commander found out, everyone who slipped out got hit on the back with a stick. That was how “discipline” was back then. Looking at it now, that would already be called **child abuse. **Times have really changed.

I graduated as First Honorable Mention—that’s what they called it back then. I was on stage in my school uniform, feeling proud and a bit nervous, but happy to see my hard work pay off.

What Stayed With Me

That little walk brought back both the good and the hard—the garden my mother cared for, a bully who later said sorry, a small scar that never faded, the move to Nabua and that small honor I was proud of, and four years at USANT that helped me grow.

Not everything was easy, but all of it shaped me.

Now, at my age, I can see how different life was then compared to how it is for the younger ones today. We didn’t have gadgets or social media, but we had time—to play outside, to talk, to make mistakes and learn from them. Life felt simpler, even when it was tough.

Today’s generation has more comfort, more access, and more noise. Maybe that’s just how the world moves forward. But I still think there’s something special about how we grew up—learning patience, toughness, and finding joy in small things.

In the end, every generation has its own way of growing and learning. Ours just happened to be a little slower, a little quieter—but maybe that’s what made it last.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Writing this made me realize how much those early years still live quietly in the background of who I am.