2014. Classes were suspended due to Typhoon Glenda, roofs were flying off of houses, most of the major highways were flooded, and blackouts were being reported in many parts of Luzon.

Our house was not spared.

We were so sad. I remember feeling so embarrassed every time my friends would want to come visit me. My mother, who was very much into home decor, removed all the fancy stuff and sold them in a garage sale. She thought the decor wouldn’t make the house look any less horrible anyway. My siblings, meanwhile, had run away.

We got an offer to move into my lolo’s place in Pampanga. While it was going to be a long commute to get to our school and work in Manila, we did not care anymore. Most of us knew that we needed to leave that house already.

But there was one major hindrance: my father. He did not want us to leave. He always said that it was our house, that we should stay and take care of it. My father had always been a principled man even in the darkest times, but I honestly thought he was not making sense.

Then came “The Day.” July 16, 2014. A tree on our street was beaten down by strong winds, and this pulled down the electric cables attached to my bedroom wall, tearing the wall down and leaving a huge hole.

And that was the point when we all said, That’s it, we are moving away.

***

Sometime last year, my best friend and I agreed, “Dapat by 30 ay wala na tayo dito sa Pilipinas.” And then we laughed because it seemed impossible; we just never really thought we would leave the Philippines for good.

It started as a joke, but as time passed and we further witnessed the kind of government we had, the joke suddenly started to become a goal — or, rather, a need.

Why do we Filipinos find it so hard to feel comfortable in our own “home?” Every year, we see thousands of us leaving the Philippines to seek jobs overseas. 

Health Secretary Francisco Duque once said that Filipino nurses should stay in the Philippines and show some “patriotism.” This, even though the government pays our healthcare workers so little. Remember when they announced the P500 daily allowance for volunteer health personnel? I am not in the healthcare industry, but I know this was disrespectful, a downgrade.

What do we get from being patriotic, anyway, when our country does not give us reasons to be devoted to it? When you look around, do you honestly feel safe and satisfied? What if being patriotic is what’s holding us back from succeeding in life?

What do you think of a country whose environment secretary dismisses scientists’ recommendations? A country whose education secretary is clueless on how to handle the transition to online learning? A female official who does not champion a fellow woman’s plight? Can we really blame people who have grown too disgusted to be governed by low-quality officials?

Do we have to wait for “The Day” — when everything is already broken — before we leave?

Maybe that’s why we’re poor.

Some of us are like my father, who insists on staying even when circumstances are, clearly, no longer okay. The house has deteriorated already and it is no longer safe for us. What reason do we have to stay? Is it wrong to want to leave such a dilapidated house? Isn’t that the logical thing to do?

When we stay, aren’t we sending the message that we are okay being here even when, clearly, we are not?

My family finally moved to a new house in 2015. Our life has been so much better since then; our new house is a lot warmer and brighter, and it puts us in a much better disposition.

My family, including my father, took a risk moving here. And I say the risk was worth it.

My siblings also built a new house where our old house stood. It is a sturdier one, albeit smaller. People may leave, but they can come back with a new drive to make their “home” better.

Maybe that is the thing: good things happen to those who are brave enough to admit that life sucks, and are brave enough to do something about it.

Is moving away such a bad thing? When we attempt to leave, does that automatically make us unpatriotic? The prospect of moving away is not always about the idea that life is so much better abroad. Sometimes, it’s the idea that life is far more terrible here. – Rappler.com

Juju Z. Baluyot, 28, is a television producer and writer. He lived in Mandaluyong City for 25 years, but is now residing in Cabuyao, Laguna after a raging storm tore his bedroom wall down.