I came across this passage in a book recently—“I didn’t ask to be born though, and you don’t get to treat me how you do.” And something in me went still. Not because it was new, but because it echoed a truth I’ve carried for so long I almost forgot it had a name.

I never asked to be born.

None of us did.

Whatever decisions, impulses, accidents, prayers, or circumstances led to my existence—none of them were mine. I wasn’t consulted. I wasn’t invited into the room. I simply arrived, handed a life I didn’t choose, expectations I didn’t shape, and burdens that somehow ended up feeling like debts.

And part of that weight was utang na loob—this quiet but heavy expectation that me and my brother were supposed to repay a lifetime of gratitude just for being taken care of. As if being raised and looked after automatically meant we owed something huge in return. As if every act of love or responsibility came with strings attached.

And here’s the thing:

Yes, I am grateful.

Deeply grateful.

I love the people who took care of us, and I don’t diminish the sacrifices they made. Those things mattered. They still do.

But gratitude does not mean surrendering our dignity.

And love does not mean accepting emotional debt.

Being thankful doesn’t give anyone the right to rub it in our faces every time there’s a problem or an argument. It doesn’t give anyone permission to weaponize the past or to use their sacrifices as leverage. Caring for us was not a bargaining chip. It was part of being family—part of being human.

Me and my brother don’t deserve to be chained to that kind of debt.

Because It. Was. Never. Our. Fault.

We were children.

We didn’t choose the circumstances.

We didn’t choose the struggles we were born into.

And we definitely didn’t choose to owe anyone for simply being kept safe, fed, or alive.

For years, I thought the heaviness I carried was just part of life—normal, inevitable, something I had to endure because “that’s how it is.” But the older I get, the more I realize that the weight wasn’t mine to begin with. I inherited burdens that were never meant for me. I accepted blame for storms I didn’t create. I absorbed hurt that formed long before I even existed.

And reading that simple line reminded me:

It’s okay to question the unfairness.

It’s okay to refuse emotional debts that aren’t yours.

It’s okay to want to matter.

We are not responsible for the conditions we were born into.

We are not responsible for the pain others carried before us.

We can love people, appreciate them, and still draw boundaries.

We can be grateful and still say, “Please don’t use this against me.”

There is something healing in finally saying, even quietly:

“I didn’t ask to be born, and my life is not a punishment.”

Maybe this is the beginning of learning to set down that weight—piece by piece.

Maybe this is the permission we never received but always needed.

Maybe this is how we finally grow into our own worth, without apology, without guilt, without taking the blame for things we were never meant to fix.

And maybe, finally, we can start treating ourselves like we matter.

Because we do.

We always have.

Even when no one taught us how to believe it.