The Person Inside You

 

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There is something deeply unsettling about cases in which violence becomes entangled with an inability to accept loneliness. Dennis Nilsen, the Scottish serial killer, murdered men and kept their bodies in his home. On more than one occasion, he washed a victim, placed him in his bed, and slept beside the corpse, seemingly recreating the companionship he could not sustain with the living.

Cases involving bodies preserved in freezers reveal similarly disturbing attempts to prevent separation, although their motivations varied and should not simply be interpreted as a desire for companionship. What makes these cases haunting is the thought that, in profoundly disturbed individuals, the fear of being alone can become so distorted that even death becomes preferable to absence.

The point is not that loneliness produces violence. It does not. Rather, these extreme cases compel us to confront a more ordinary question: **What happens when we become so uncomfortable with being alone that we constantly seek ways to escape it?**

Some people become uneasy when left by themselves. In that discomfort, they fill every silence with tasks, conversations, errands, or endless activity. They may appear remarkably productive, when beneath that composed exterior, a chaotic current of emotions is quietly moving.

Sometimes, busyness is not productivity at all. It is a way of avoiding the stillness in which loneliness, anxiety, or long-suppressed thoughts might finally become audible.

Research on experiential avoidance suggests that people sometimes engage in behaviors designed to escape, suppress, or distract themselves from uncomfortable thoughts and emotions (Hayes et al., 1996). What looks like constant activity may therefore be more than a busy lifestyle. It may be an attempt to outrun something within.

When people struggle to regulate their emotions and are reluctant to engage in honest self-assessment, they may suppress what they truly feel and redirect those emotions toward other people, activities, or distractions. This may provide temporary relief, but what remains unexamined does not necessarily disappear.

Instead, unresolved emotions may eventually surface as anxiety, irritability, strained relationships, or other forms of psychological distress. What begins as a coping mechanism can, when repeatedly relied upon, become a pattern that slowly undermines psychological well-being.

In its more severe forms, particularly when combined with profound psychological disturbance and other complex risk factors, such patterns may become part of a broader clinical picture. Yet this should never be used to equate ordinary loneliness or emotional struggle with dangerousness.

Perhaps that is why some people, despite having limited understanding of mental and psychological health, are quick to label those who behave differently as “insane.” It is easier to name what we do not understand than to pause and ask what might be happening beneath the behavior.

Perhaps the real challenge is not learning how to escape being alone, but learning how to remain with ourselves when there is nowhere else to hide. Self-awareness allows us to recognize what we feel; self-regulation teaches us not to be ruled by it. Solitude, then, need not be an empty space to fear, but a quiet opportunity to listen, confront what needs healing, and discover who we are when no one else is around.

If we cannot learn to be alone with ourselves, we may spend our lives running from the very silence that could have taught us who we are.

 

Now, Who's Uncouth?

 

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When one of my students uses cuss words, I do not simply let them pass. I reprimand them because words carry biblical, moral, and social implications. When disrespect happens, I raise my voice in protest because silence is not always civility. I also call the attention of girls who scream unnecessarily or dress inappropriately within the school campus, not to police their individuality, but to remind them that freedom must be accompanied by responsibility and that education must also cultivate decency.

I teach my learners to uphold dignity, embody respect, and practice decency.

When the Ateneo de Zamboanga school shooting made national headlines, Palace Press Officer Claire Castro drew criticism after remarks that included the statement that some teachers “teach their students how to be disrespectful, particularly toward elders or other people.” She later explained that her remarks were intended to emphasize the role of teachers in shaping character. Still, the statement prompted strong reactions from educators, particularly in the context of an already painful conversation about school safety.

“Walang modo.” In English, uncouth. The irony is worth reflecting upon. In our effort to teach young people how to behave with respect, we must also be mindful of how we speak about those entrusted with educating them.

Based on my experience in the classroom, there was never a time when I deliberately taught disrespect or ill manners to my learners. In fact, I have heard fellow teachers express their frustrations over learners who display poor manners and disrespect, experiences that can be emotionally and physically draining.

As a social researcher, I would find it difficult to formulate a sound hypothesis that teachers, as a group, teach ill manners to their learners. Such a premise appears too simplistic to explain a behavior shaped by many influences, including family, peers, community, culture, media, and the school environment. Any claim of causation, therefore, deserves evidence rather than assumption.

Claire Castro is a lawyer, and her public role also carries an expectation of careful reasoning and contextual sensitivity, particularly when statements are delivered from a government podium. In a subsequent press conference, she clarified that she was referring to particular teachers who, according to her explanation, were facing legal action or investigation in connection with social media posts involving the President.

That clarification provides important context. Yet it also leaves a broader question worth asking: when words are spoken publicly, especially during a sensitive national conversation, should intent alone determine how they are received? Public statements carry consequences beyond what the speaker may have intended.

The situation may be viewed through the lens of scapegoating, a process in which blame for broader social problems is displaced onto a particular individual or group. It would be premature to conclusively label the remarks as scapegoating. Still, attributing learners’ behavioral problems primarily to teachers, without sufficient empirical evidence, risks reducing a complex social phenomenon to a convenient target of blame (Allport, 1954/1979; Glick, 2005).

Filipino teachers deserve better. They are already carrying classrooms, paperwork, remediation, administrative responsibilities, and the countless demands that extend beyond the teaching of lessons. Their work requires patience, emotional strength, and an enduring commitment to children, often amid pressures that the public does not always see.

To question their commitment without examining the larger environment that shapes a child's behavior is unfair and overly simplistic. Teachers should not be convenient targets in conversations about problems that society collectively has a responsibility to address.

Our teachers do not need blame thrown at them. They need trust, support, protection, and recognition. After all, the work of raising a generation has never been theirs to carry alone.

The Demise of Civility

 

   

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There’s this thought-provoking discussion on Oprah’s podcast about the apparent demise of civility among people. A potent question was raised: “Why are people so mean these days?” We see it everywhere. Some customers yell at food servers and even destroy computers simply because their orders are late. Passengers on airplanes scream obscenities at flight attendants, while others kick the seats in front of them out of frustration. Ordinary inconveniences, it seems, have become excuses for extraordinary cruelty.

There are theories that people behave this way because of the difficult experiences they have carried from where they came from (i.e. work-related stress, family problems). But can that really be an excuse? Others point to the stress brought about by everything happening around us, especially our constant exposure to the rapid flow of information on social media. But perhaps we should also acknowledge that, to some extent, this stress is a consequence of our own indulgence in being constantly online.

Research on social media overload suggests that the sheer volume of information, interactions, and digital demands can leave people mentally exhausted. It raises an interesting question: Are we stressed by the world around us, or by our constant decision to remain connected to it? (Fu et al., 2020)

When social media came into our lives, people began to experience a kind of “power” they had never felt before. They could express themselves freely, voice opinions to a wide audience, and reveal aspects of their character, including their rudeness and hostility, with fewer reservations. In time, seeing others behave this way made such conduct easier to imitate. What was once restrained by social norms gradually became normalized.

There is also the question of personality, upbringing, and family background. These may shape how people respond to stress and conflict. When the right trigger comes, perhaps what emerges is not an entirely different person, but a side of them that has been shaped by years of experience and conditioning. If so, we are left with an uncomfortable question: Are some of the behaviors we see today also reflections of how people were taught to handle frustration, disagreement, and other people?

Perhaps the real question is not why people have become so mean, but why we have become so comfortable with it. Stress may explain our anger, social media may amplify it, and our past may shape it, but none of these should excuse cruelty.

Civility is ultimately a choice. In a world that is becoming increasingly loud and hostile, choosing kindness may be one of the quietest yet most powerful forms of strength.

Unapologetic

 

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You are quick to question my actions, yet conveniently blind to your own. When exactly did professionalism, class, and the ability to act with finesse become something to mock? And since when did being loud, crude, and uncultured become preferable to carrying yourself with dignity?

Yes, these are different times. Never has it been easier for everyone to voice an opinion online. But does having the freedom to speak automatically make you right?

And does expressing sober thoughts, measured opinions, and morally attuned convictions suddenly make them wrong simply because they do not conform to your perspective? What, then, is your template for determining what is right and wrong? Your childhood? Your personal experiences? Your own understanding of the world?

We live in a time when opinions are often posted hastily, and information is consumed without the patience to examine its substance, context, or even the construction of a sentence. The more controversial the content, the more likely it is to become the talk of the town, while scholarly, thoughtful, and intellectually grounded perspectives are easily drowned out.

There seems to be a growing appetite for online entertainment, where outrage, novelty, and controversy often receive more attention than substance. Somewhere along the way, the purpose of learning appears to have been pushed to the sidelines. We scroll for amusement, react for validation, and share for attention, while the discipline of reading, thinking, questioning, and learning slowly becomes an afterthought. In an increasingly commercialized digital environment, human attention and behavior have become valuable commodities, shaping what people see, consume, and engage with (Zuboff, 2019).

Yet, there are still people who lust for the written word, who find nourishment in language and in the beautiful arrangement of words that somehow feeds the soul. There are still those who hunger for journalism where truth remains at its core. There are bookworms who linger in bookstores, reading blurbs, turning pages, and willingly wasting time simply to think.

And please, do not make fun of us. We may not be the majority, but we are still here. We still read. We still think. We still believe that words matter. And perhaps, in a world that is increasingly rushing to speak, that is reason enough for us to remain.

Yes, we may be boring to you, but do not mistake our quietness for being wrong.

When Primary Becomes Secondary

 

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You convince yourself that you are doing your job well. In fact, you have become even better at doing other things. But do you remember the days when you longed for this position? You worked tirelessly, made sacrifices, and did whatever it took to reach where you are now.

Yet somewhere along the way, you became lukewarm toward the very responsibilities you once aspired to embrace. The work that once gave you purpose slowly became secondary, replaced by pursuits that drew your attention away from your calling.

Have you ever paused to visit your inner self? Have you asked what emptiness you are trying to fill, or what validation you are seeking, when the very work entrusted to you is being left behind?

These are valid questions because we often witness people who gradually allow their real work to become secondary, until even the ordinary responsibilities of their position begin to feel burdensome. Some squander precious resources, especially time, while convincing themselves that they are doing well.

Others drift away from the work entrusted to them in pursuit of fulfillment that their responsibilities alone seem unable to provide. Many recognize these patterns within themselves yet choose to rationalize or dismiss them because confronting one's inner deficiencies demands honesty and courage.

As people lose sight of the purpose of their work, they often seek fulfillment in pursuits that offer temporary satisfaction but gradually distance them from their true responsibilities. Meaningful work requires more than competence. It requires a clear sense of purpose and fidelity to one's calling.

When that sense of purpose weakens, even ordinary duties can begin to feel like burdens. Rediscovering one's calling, therefore, begins with an honest examination of one's motivations and the reasons behind one's actions (Frankl, 2006).

What is even more troubling is that some begin to resent those who remain faithful to their responsibilities. Instead of allowing themselves to be challenged by such examples, they dismiss them as attention seekers, people pleasers, or individuals with a superiority complex.

Such labels can become convenient shields against uncomfortable self-reflection. It is often easier to question another person's motives than to confront the possibility that one's own commitment has faded. In doing so, they distance themselves from the difficult truth that they may no longer be giving their work the dedication it deserves.

So, stop painting me as the enemy. Perhaps I am not the foe you imagined. Perhaps the real adversary is not the person who remains faithful to the work, but the part of us that refuses to confront the truth.

Before judging those who simply strive to fulfill their calling, ask yourself whether the discomfort they awaken comes from their actions, or from the distance between who you once wanted to be and who you have become.

The Making of a Sick Mind

 

  

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These bomb threats in schools are becoming increasingly alarming. What some students, or even outsiders, dismiss as a prank is, in reality, a serious act that spreads fear, disrupts learning, and undermines the safety every school deserves. More than a disciplinary issue, it reflects a deeper problem that cannot be ignored.

Some young people who lack healthy affirmation and struggle with low self-worth may seek attention through harmful acts. They may mistake fear for influence and notoriety for significance. While this does not explain every case, it reminds us that destructive behavior often has roots that extend beyond the classroom.

Children reflect the adults who raise them and the society that shapes them. When responsible parenting weakens, schools inevitably confront the consequences. In an age where online validation often competes with meaningful relationships, children need more than provision. They need guidance, presence, and consistent examples. After all, they learn more from what adults do than from what adults say.

Teachers, meanwhile, are increasingly challenged in maintaining discipline. Some students invoke their rights without recognizing that rights are inseparable from responsibilities, leaving educators hesitant to enforce appropriate corrective measures. At the same time, social media has made it easier for harmful behaviors, including bomb threats and bullying tactics seen elsewhere, to be imitated locally.

Respect for authority must be restored through leadership that is firm, fair, and lawful. As a school principal, I learned that discipline is not about intimidation but about accountability. By consistently enforcing rules, involving parents, and working within the law, I found that students were less likely to challenge legitimate authority because they understood that expectations were clear and consistently upheld.

Research supports this approach. Schools that practice authoritative discipline, enforcing rules firmly, fairly, and consistently, report lower levels of bullying and victimization (Gregory et al., 2010). Students are more likely to respect authority when discipline is just, predictable, and guided by due process.

Every bomb threat begins long before the message is sent. It begins where responsibility is neglected, values are left untaught, and authority is allowed to weaken. Safer schools will not be built by security measures alone, but by homes that nurture, schools that discipline justice, and communities that choose to build character stronger than fear. 

Mirror First

 

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Don't you realize you're already old enough to stop acting like a child? Emotional growth should accompany physical growth. If you are already in your forties or fifties yet still cannot regulate your emotions and continue to react like an immature child, perhaps it is time to ask yourself an uncomfortable question: Have you neglected your own personal growth?

Growing older is inevitable; growing up is a choice.

You may refuse to control your emotional outbursts. You may never take the time to confront your insecurities, shortcomings, and unresolved issues. Instead, you may find it easier to blame others for your behavior. Whether you fail to recognize your own immaturity, deliberately ignore it, or have simply allowed unhealthy emotional habits to become deeply ingrained, the outcome is the same: you deny yourself the opportunity for genuine growth.

Individuals who habitually blame others for their reactions often demonstrate poor emotional regulation and limited self-awareness, two fundamental components of emotional intelligence. Genuine maturity begins when you stop justifying your behavior through external circumstances and honestly examine your own thoughts, emotions, and actions (Mayer & Salovey, 1995).

The more troubling reality is that people who refuse to examine themselves can be found everywhere. They occupy positions in government, lead organizations, manage workplaces, and are even part of our own circles of friends and families. Instead of fostering growth, encouraging dialogue, and inspiring wisdom, they often suppress opportunities for learning and personal development. Their inability to manage themselves creates environments where fear replaces trust, conflict overshadows collaboration, and growth struggles to take root.

A vicious cycle of negativity soon follows wherever such individuals hold influence. Over time, these unhealthy behaviors become normalized as others tolerate, excuse, or even imitate them simply to avoid conflict. What begins as one person's emotional immaturity gradually erodes sound judgment, weakens values, and stifles both personal and collective growth. When destructive conduct goes unchallenged, it eventually ceases to be the exception and becomes the culture.

So, you choose to focus on my mistakes and celebrate my small setbacks? Why not examine your own missteps and learn from them instead? The energy you spend criticizing others could become the very force that transforms your own character. In doing so, you can contribute something meaningful to the world, making your life a source of growth and purpose rather than one consumed by resentment and contempt.

In the end, your greatest enemy is not the person you criticize but the person you refuse to become. The world has never needed more critics; it has always needed more people willing to master themselves.