Bealyn Estrada

Sweet Sixteen years of living

An autobiography by Bealyn Sarbelle C. Estrada

I was born on April 11, 2009, at Quezon City General Hospital to Annabelle Cera and Cesar Estrada. Since my parents weren’t married, they didn’t share the same last name. My mother worked as an OFW in Singapore, while my father served in the military. She took two years off to raise me before entrusting my care to my grandparents in Mangaldan.

I was allowed to do what I wanted since my grandparents didn't watch over me often. The only rule was that I wasn't allowed to go outside the house. Despite that, I was free to do whatever I want without anyone telling me what to do. On the other hand, my grandparents didn't like it when I cried and tried disciplining me every time I did. The unreasonable discipline was not the good amount of doubt I needed in my early years of living. I learned how to pretend to be happy every day just so they wouldn't get mad at me.

I'm sure you can see the patterns. This time, my family made me feel guilty for every mistake I made instead of helping me learn from them. They let me do whateverI wanted unsupervised, but controlled my life when they were watching over me. These were the years when innocents kept me naive. Surprise, surprised. This is where my inferiority complex started. I relied on people during this stage. No decision ever felt like mine. And ifI ever wanted to get my ideas out, I had to filter them through other people due to the fact that I was never confident in myself. Barely did. This photo of me was when I was forced into a pageant because I let everyone make the decision for me. I wasn't confident to make a decision for myself, so I let other people choose for me. 

When I was twelve, I already knew who I was to my peers. I was the academically failing weird girl. I embraced that identity for years. I knew I was being bullied because of it, but it didn't matter. I lost my dignity if it meant I could be happy. I embraced the weirdness and blocked the obvious bullying. It hurts. It hurts to the point I placed boundaries in my life. This messed with my mental health. Who knew that total isolation from the outside would make me confused about whoI was? I started questioning my sexuality, gender |identity, and even if I was real. Real messed up, that's for sure. I was stuck with my kuya, lola, and lolo. Though my lolo died in 2021. Don't feel bad, that man tried to kill me. During this time, I also questioned my sanity. Even though my grandfather tried to kill me, I still questioned if I was a good person.

COVID finally ended, and I was so excited to see faces again. Little did I know, it was the beginning of hell all over again. Seeing my childhood friends from kindergarten made me so happy. The start of the school year was fine until the bullying started. This is where my mental health needs took a toll on me. As a teen, I needed to be presentable. The people in my old school made me feel ugly. They made me feel angry, sad, disgusted, and scared myself! This is when my split personality started.

I was so tired at this point in my life. I gave up taking care of myself since my mental health was so drained. I didn't live. I survived. Everything moved so fast. Which l was grateful for. I hated every minute in Cinderella. I only cared about my grades and trying to keep myself sane. My hair got thinner, the bullying was worse, and I didn't care if I was known as the girl with anger issues. 

I loved being in Kingfisher. Everyone is super nice. I already made best friends and a questionable enemy. Either way, I love this place. I don't get bullied, most people like my weirdness, and I love some of the subjects here.



finally

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