Everything Andie

Life in her thirties: written, felt, and sometimes over-thought.

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  • Where Are You Christmas?

    Where are you, Christmas?
    Why can’t I find you?
    Why have you gone away?

    As this holiday season came up, I couldn’t help but notice how different Christmas felt.

    I kept catching myself saying things like, “Christmas is so different now,” or “It doesn’t even feel like Christmas.”

    For a while, I couldn’t quite explain why.

    Then it hit me: Christmas feels different now because I’m no longer just experiencing the magic — I’m learning how to create it, the way my parents once did for me.

    My world is changing,
    I’m rearranging.
    Does that mean Christmas changes too?

    Growing up, Christmas morning meant two things: waking up to see the “big thing” Santa brought us, and waiting for my cousins to arrive.

    They all spent Christmas Eve with their other families, but Christmas Day was ours.

    Everyone came to our house.

    The best part of Christmas wasn’t the gifts — it was my cousins filling every room, the noise, the laughter, the feeling we were waiting all month for.

    Even when I left for college in Hawaii, I came home for Christmas. It felt like something I could never miss.

    Then my parents decided to sell that house. They downsized as they prepared to move to Texas. We only moved a few cities away, but suddenly those big, loud, special Christmases stopped happening.

    We tried gathering at other houses to keep that feeling, but it wasn’t the same.

    I still looked forward to the other little traditions — searching for Christmas lights with friends, trying the latest holiday drinks or treats at our local coffee shops, and doing our annual gift exchanges.

    When my parents moved to Texas, visiting them became the new tradition. I flew there the last couple of years because it felt right — because it felt closest to the Christmas I grew up with.

    This year, though, is different.

    This is the first Christmas where I didn’t have anything planned, and it felt strange at first. As everyone around me shared their plans, I caught myself hoping no one would ask me about mine. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have a plan — and I wasn’t sure what that meant yet.

    One of my favorite Christmas songs has always been “Where Are You Christmas?” by Faith Hill. I love it because it’s in The Grinch, my favorite Christmas movie.

    But listening to it now, in my thirties — with my world changing and rearranging — it hits differently.

    Leading up to Christmas, I felt myself trying to figure out what to do, where to go.

    And then one day, I realized something simple but freeing: I don’t have to do anything.

    So this year, I’m choosing to do nothing — on purpose. By nothing, I mean I’m letting go of the need to recreate my childhood Christmas or force it to look like what it used to be. Instead, I’m spending the day inside with my boyfriend and our cat, making a good lunch, and watching The Grinch.

    If there is love in your heart and your mind,
    you will feel like Christmas all the time.

    There’s something quietly beautiful about this season of my life.

    For the first time, I get to decide which parts of the holiday magic I want to keep, which ones I want to change, and which ones I’m ready to let go of.

    I’m not trying to recreate my childhood Christmas or the way it’s always been. I’m learning to build my adult one — shaped by who I am now, and by the people (and pets) in my life.

    And somehow, that feels exactly like the Christmas I need right now.

    The joy of Christmas
    Stays here inside us
    Fills each and every heart with love    .

  • Rebranding.

    I’ve been feeling this strong pull to “rebrand” myself — but honestly, it’s less about changing who I am and more about finally showing the version of me I’ve been shifting into quietly.

    It’s like my favorite color is definitely still blue, but I don’t hate pink anymore. I still love the ocean, but I don’t go to the beach as much as I used to. I love my family, but I don’t feel pressure to be with them 24/7. I have the same goofy personality, but I’m learning to be softer, gentler. My emotions feel stronger these days, but not in a bad way – more like I’m letting them exist instead of suppressing.

    I got sad thinking about how my friends and family know and love me based on a memorized version from what they learned about me through the years. But, I don’t want to be reduced to memorized versions of me or photos on a grid of curated perception.

    I still have parts of the old me, but the new me is begging to be portrayed. I’m still actively learning about myself, and I think that’s part of why this feels so important. I don’t want to keep showing the same old stuff about me when the newer parts are getting louder, asking to be seen.

    It feels a lot like when a store decides to redo everything — repaint the walls, switch out the equipment, update the website. Not because the old stuff was terrible, but because it just doesn’t fit who they are anymore.

    This new me has been growing in the background of my thirties era: slowly, softly, without announcement. I’ve felt it in small ways: in the things I no longer react to, in the way I protect my peace, in the softness I didn’t have before. I can feel myself becoming someone different — not unrecognizable, just… updated?

    The rebrand isn’t about becoming someone NEW — I just want to show the version I’m actually living in right now, even if she’s still unfolding.

  • Dad.

    Hey Dad,

    I want to thank you for teaching me about tough love and preparing me for this crazy world.

    While tough love can be very hard to face in the moment, I know now that it’s also a sign of care. I’m sorry it took me a while to understand this, but as I got older and realized that this was how you showed love, and that love can actually be shown in SO many ways, I appreciated it so much more.

    So, thank you for throwing me in the pool so I can learn how to swim (literally and figuratively). Thank you for teaching me how to drive in a lifted Ford F150 truck because “if I can drive that, I can drive anything”. Thank you for showing up to my high school parties to “check on me”… Thank you for making us work for the money we needed for activities with our friends, instead of just giving it to us. Thanks for giving us a curfew and making sure I was always home safe. Thank you for making us help mom around the house and for doing random room inspections. Thanks for having us write memos when we did something wrong so we understood the totality of the circumstance. Thank you for sitting us down for family meetings to clear the air. Thanks for teaching me how to change my oil, cabin filter, and tail lights. Thank you for the advice on investing and saving. Thanks for saying yes, when mom said no.

    Thank you for always being honest and real. Thank you for always being there for us.

    “A father’s tears and fears are unseen, his love is unexpressed, but his care and protection remain as a pillar of strength throughout our lives.”

    – Ama H. Vanniarachchy

    You taught me that life isn’t always fair and nothing is ever free. You taught me about boundaries, responsibility, independence, and respect. You helped me build the mental and physical armor I need to navigate this crazy adult life.

    I’ve heard people claim that you’re not loving. I believe the way love is shown is subjective. To me, you are sensitive, caring, and loving in your own ways and I am just so happy and proud to have you as my dad. You might not show love in super warm hugs and gentle words 24/7, but your version of showing love somehow always affects me the most.

    I love the simple words you write in my cards, the gifts from you (or secretly mom), our shared love of peanut butter, how you randomly call me to tell me a funny story, and our competition of sending each other songs with deep lyrics.

    I’m sorry I don’t tell you enough, but I love you. I hope this letter shows that I appreciate everything you have done to raise us, no matter how hard it was as a young dad. Please forgive yourself for what you think you have or have not done. I know you did the best you could and we have the best memories with you. Thank you for being the best teammate to mom. To the world, you are just a father, but to our family you are the world!

    I absolutely love our relationship and the respect that we have for each other now that I’m older.

    You’ll forever be my favorite dad.

    Love,

    Your Favorite Daughter

  • Memorial Day Movies

    Memorial Day is a day of reflection and remembrance of those who died while serving in the U.S military.

    The holiday that is commonly seen as just a day off from school or work or an opportunity to score some deals online, was originally established for the country to set aside time to honor the troops who had given their lives in service of America. Over the years, the holiday evolved to commemorate all American military personnel who died in wars including World War II, The Vietnam War, The Korean War and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

    There are many ways to pay respect on this day, but if you are unsure how, one of the easiest ways is watching and learning from a movie. Here are some of my favorite movies that capture extraordinary and terrifying tales of the horrors of battle and human experiences of courage, selflessness, and sacrifice:

    Saving Private Ryan (1998)

    Following the Normandy Landings, a group of U.S. soldiers go behind enemy lines to retrieve a paratrooper whose brothers have been killed in action.

    Pearl Harbor (2001)

    A tale of war and romance mixed in with history portrays the Japanese military’s surprise attack on the United States Naval Base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii on December 7, 1941.

    Black Hawk Down (2002)

    The film takes place in 1993 when the U.S. sent special forces into Somalia to destabilize the government and bring food and humanitarian aid to the starving population.

    The Hurt Locker (2009)

    An intense portrayal of elite soldiers who have one of the most dangerous jobs in the world: disarming bombs in the heat of combat.

    Act of Valor (2012)

    Real-life Navy SEALs star in this explosive thriller that follows an elite platoon as they track a terrorist threat all the way to the U.S. border.

    American Sniper (2015)

    U.S. Navy SEAL Chris Kyle takes his sole mission of protecting his comrades to heart and becomes one of the most lethal snipers in American history.

    13 Hours (2016)

    The gripping true story of six elite ex-military operators — assigned to protect the CIA — who fought back against overwhelming odds when terrorists attacked a U.S. diplomatic compound in Benghazi on September 11, 2012.

    Hacksaw Ridge (2016)

    World War II American Army Medic Desmond T. Doss, who served during the Battle of Okinawa, refuses to kill people and becomes the first man in American history to receive the Medal of Honor without ever firing a shot.

    Reminder: All Americans are encouraged to pause for a National Moment of Remembrance or moment of silence at 3 p.m. local time on Memorial Day.

    (Most of these movies can be found on the common streaming apps or are available to rent.)

  • Mom.

    She gave birth to me and named me Marah, but called me Andie. She brought me to America when I was a few months old.

    She made sure my brother and I were always bathed and smelled good. She dressed us in cute outfits. She sang to us and softly stroked our noses with her finger to calm us or help us fall asleep.

    She taught us how to make our beds as soon as we got up. And “never wear your pjs outside”. She always did my hair and made sure I had everything ready for school. She taught me how to practice my smile in the mirror and pose for picture days. She shopped for our school supplies when they were on sale after back to school week. She taught us how to clearance shop and never bought anything full price. She showed us that we don’t need much.

    She picked us up from school either a couple blocks away or a few minutes later, to avoid the long school pick-up lines. She always had food ready for us when we got home. Our house was always clean. She made us text her every hour and always wanted to know who we were with. She kept everything age appropriate. She set boundaries and was a parent instead of a friend. She couldn’t sleep until she knew we were safe and okay.

    She gave me advice and told me to always trust my instincts. Even if she didn’t understand, she would always try to see our points of view. She was there when I got my young heart broken and refrained from saying I told you so. She dropped everything and took care of me during a big medical scare. She held my hand, cried, and prayed.

    She kissed us goodbye when we both moved to Hawaii. She hugged us, cried, and prayed. She never missed our graduations. She was excited to hear about our experiences when we came back home.

    She annoys me when she nags, but she’s the best when she listens. She is overly organized and obnoxiously clean. She has a place for everything. She doesn’t waste food and holds on to things way longer than she should. She loves extra extra boba, anything chocolate, and ensaymada. She makes the best adobo, sinigang, and Filipino spaghetti.

    She is smart, kind, and thoughtful. She’s selective in who she keeps in her circle. She’s brutally honest. She won’t leave the house in loungewear or without doing her hair. She loves her hand creams and red nail polish. She always plays it safe. She is naturally beautiful.

    She has cool gray hair now and sometimes forgets what she already told me. She still tells me to lock the door when I leave and to be careful while driving. She makes me drive places because she can’t see and she’s too scared to drive. She hugs me and says she missed me when I visit and says “I love you, be safe” whenever I leave. She embodies unconditional love.

    She properly prepared me to handle the world with kindness, grace, and instinct.

    While I still have her, I will take advantage of our mother-daughter dates, no matter how small. I’ll call her when I get a chance, to catch up or to vent. I’ll let her remind me about things I already know. I’ll listen to her stories, even if she already told them to me.

    She was my role model growing up and my best friend now.

    She is my mom.

  • A Letter To Myself at 30

    Happy birthday! Your 20s are now just memories as you enter a new era. I’m just so proud of you.

    You were pretty stressed about turning 30, but I’m glad you overcame the fears.

    You are entering your 30th year of life confident, happy, content with your small circle, and more appreciative of life than ever before. You have been through enough to give you wisdom and strength to tackle anything in the future. You’re so sure of who you are as a person and you don’t need validation from anyone. You are living life on your own terms, and at a pace that feels most comfortable to you. You feel respectable, wise, and stronger than ever. You’re not scared of turning 30…you’re so happy to be here.

    Always remember some of the valuable things you learned in your 20s: Always appreciate the little things • Don’t waste your energy or attention on the negative • Pay close attention to the people in your life who are truly there for you; luckily you won’t have to do anything, they’ll show themselves • Don’t ever feel guilty for saying no • Keep laughing everything off • Live life at your own pace and don’t feel rushed or pressured to do anything • Always lead with your good heart and if you’re sad, lean on those who really care and will help you feel better (you know who they are) • It’s okay to ask for help • Always put yourself first • Travel your little heart out! • Spend time with your parents • If you’re feeling lost or unmotivated, remember creativity and the beach are good for the soul • Go easy on yourself.

    What a blessing it is to make it to 30! When someone says, “dang, you’re 30?!” you better say, “hell yeah, I am!”

    No matter what age, you know life is all about your attitude. You’ve embraced all the changes, experiences, and challenges you’ve been faced with so far. Keep it up and go celebrate the start of a new chapter!

    Oh, and don’t count your candles girl…light them up and enjoy the glow!