https://seriousmd.com/doc/roselo-alagase

Journey2Life, Guadalupe (2025)

02/08/2025

The roar of 80,000 voices thundered through the Olympic stadium. Cameras flashed like lightning. On the podium, Maya Reyes stood draped in the American flag, a gold medal around her neck, tears on her cheeks. Years of sweat, injury, and relentless training had led to this moment—first place in women’s gymnastics, the final floor routine of her career.

The national anthem swelled around her, but Maya’s eyes weren’t on the flag. She was scanning the crowd. Searching.

After the ceremony, as reporters swarmed and questions flew—“What does this mean to you?” “Who do you want to thank?”—Maya offered only a smile and a soft, “There’s someone I need to find.”

While her teammates went to interviews and photo ops, Maya slipped away. She ducked through corridors and service tunnels, walked past roaring fans and bewildered volunteers. Her destination wasn’t a green room or media tent.

It was Section 312, Row H.
Sitting near the edge of the row, quietly clapping with wrinkled hands, was Miss Evelyn Carter—retired middle school janitor.
“Miss Carter,” Maya whispered. The old woman looked up, surprised. Then her eyes widened.
“Maya?”

The athlete dropped to one knee, pulled the gold medal from around her neck, and gently placed it into Miss Carter’s lap.
“You gave me my first mat,” Maya said, her voice trembling. “When I had no gear, no gym, and no way to pay for lessons—you cleared out a supply closet and let me practice on old wrestling pads.”

Miss Carter blinked, stunned.
“I just remember you always staying late,” she said. “Didn’t realize I was building a champion.” “No,” Maya said. “You built a kid who believed someone cared.”

Behind them, a fan caught the moment on their phone—a world-famous gymnast kneeling before a janitor in the nosebleeds, offering her medal. The image hit the internet within minutes. By dawn, was trending globally.

What the world didn’t know—until later—was the truth behind Miss Carter’s quiet sacrifice.

That closet gym? Miss Carter had risked her job to let Maya use it. She bought the pads herself after overhearing that Maya’s family couldn’t afford lessons. And she’d done it all while battling a cancer diagnosis she never spoke of, choosing to spend her energy giving Maya a place to fly.

When a journalist tracked her down days later, Miss Carter finally said something.

“She thought I saved her dream,” she whispered. “But the truth is, watching her kept me going. I wasn’t building a gymnast. I was building a reason to believe in tomorrow.”

At a press event a week later, when Maya was asked if she regretted giving away her only gold medal, she smiled, pulled something from her pocket, and held it up.

It was a worn brass key—old, dented, engraved faintly with the number “112.” A janitor’s master key. “She gave me this once,” Maya said. “Said, ‘You’ll need it to unlock your dreams.’ I’m keeping this forever.”

The stadium went silent.
Because in the end, it wasn’t the medal that mattered—it was the door that had once been quietly opened.

And the final whispered words Maya said to Miss Carter, as the stadium roared behind them, became the quote etched into the statue later built in both their honor:
“You held the door. I just walked through.”

CTTO

27/07/2025

Ask. Seek. Knock

15/07/2025

UP GRADUATE GIVES HEARTFELT SPEECH

“Sana Hindi N’yo Na Lang Ako Pinanganak”
(A Graduation Speech That Shook the Nation)

In a society that romanticizes resilience but often overlooks the pain that fuels it, the graduation post of Jaynard, a Magna Cum Laude Chemical Engineering graduate from the University of the Philippines Los Baños.was not just a story. It was a mirror. A cry. A plea for understanding.

"Sana hindi n’yo na lang ako pinanganak."

It is a sentence that cuts deep, not just for parents, but for anyone who has ever questioned their place in this world. Jaynard’s post didn’t go viral because it was sensational. It resonated because it was real.

•Growing Up with Dreams Bigger Than Circumstances
Jaynard grew up in a home filled with love but void of luxury, comfort, or even stability. His parents were hardworking, his father juggling every job he could find and his mother taking on multiple roles just to put food on the table. Yet, love does not erase hunger. It does not pay tuition. It cannot silence the questions a young mind asks when it sees his peers eating full meals while he and his brother split a single egg, fighting silently over who got the yolk.

He excelled in school, not because it was easy, but because it was the only way out. He believed in education the way some people believe in miracles. But hope is heavy when it’s carried alone.

The sadness in his words is not rooted in hate or ingratitude, but in exhaustion. In the relentless burden of being the family’s hope. Of constantly sacrificing one’s own desires just to survive just to make meaning of the suffering.

•When Childhood is a Battlefield
At only 11, Jaynard had his first taste of deep emotional despair. A simple request to ride with his friends during a local fiesta was denied due to lack of money. A child’s innocent wish turned into a bitter reminder of poverty’s grip. It wasn’t just about the ride; it was about being reminded, again, that they didn’t have enough. That he didn’t have enough.

That night, he uttered it for the first time: “Sana hindi n’yo na lang ako pinanganak.”

To some, this may sound ungrateful. But to those who have known poverty intimately, it’s not about blaming your parents. It’s about the heartbreak of knowing they’ve given everything, and still, it’s not enough.

•Even in College: Hunger, Guilt, and a Heavy Crown
Fast forward to UP scholarships, stipends, and a title: “Iskolar ng Bayan.” But while he bore that title with pride, he also bore the weight of unpaid debts, of siblings still in need, of bills piling up. His allowance, instead of covering his daily needs, was sent home. His stomach empty, his mind tired, he whispered those painful words again.

In those moments, he didn’t hate his parents, he hurt for them. He grieved not only for his own struggles, but for the dreams his parents never got to chase. What if his father had become the engineer? What if his mother, brilliant and ambitious, had finished college and become a professional?

“Don’t Let Your Child Be Like Me.”
This wasn’t a message of bitterness. It was a warning.

“Parenthood isn’t just about love,” Jaynard stressed. “It’s about readiness.”

He wasn’t condemning his parents. He was confronting a cycle, a system where people bring life into the world out of pressure, tradition, or accident, without the resources to truly nurture it. Where poverty births more poverty. Where children grow up carrying not just their own burdens, but the dreams and debts of the generation before them.

•To future parents, he had a powerful message: Think. Wait. Prepare. Don’t have a child simply because “it’s time” or “everyone else does.” Ask: Can I give them a life where they don’t have to choose between eating and studying? Where they don’t have to feel guilty for existing?

•And Yet, Love Endures
Despite the pain, Jaynard never stopped loving his parents. His story is filled with longing for a better life, not just for himself but for them. When his mother responded publicly, affirming her love and pride for her son, it was a full-circle moment.

She had no regrets. Her child, despite the odds, had become someone extraordinary. And that, perhaps, was worth everything.

•To the Silent Fighters: You Are Not Alone
To every student who skipped meals to buy school supplies. To every eldest child who became second parent. To every dreamer forced to grow up too soon:

Your pain is valid. Your journey is hard. But you are not alone.

As Jaynard said, “Living in poverty is no joke. But let’s not lose hope.”

Let us dream of a world where no child has to justify their birth. Where being born poor doesn’t mean being born doomed. Let us break the cycle, through compassion, through accountability, through readiness.

So that one day, no child will ever have to say,
“Sana hindi n’yo na lang ako pinanganak.”

And instead say,
“Salamat, dahil kahit mahirap, hindi ninyo ako pinabayaan.”

May this story spark not just empathy, but action. Toward a future where every child is a choice, a blessing, and a promise fulfilled.

-GalawangFrancisco

•In Photo: Jaynard, a Magna Cum Laude Chemical Engineering graduate from the University of the Philippines Los Baños

13/07/2025

"𝐆𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞"

11/07/2025

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐭: 𝐀 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞

I am the youngest of eleven siblings—five brothers and five sisters. Sadly, two of my siblings passed away, one due to illness and the other by su***de. Many of them were bright and full of potential but lacked the opportunity to pursue formal education.

My father was both a tailor and a farmer—a well-known tailor in our community. He had a lively personality, often spending time drinking 𝘛𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘺 rum with his friends. Whenever he got drunk, his loud voice would echo throughout the neighborhood. Though our ears had grown accustomed to it, his presence was always felt.

My mother, a quiet yet strong presence, is the light of my life. She instilled in me the right values and encouraged me to always do what is right.

From a young age, I learned to take initiative to earn money. I used to fetch water for neighbors in exchange for a small amount of money. That was my first taste of responsibility and independence.
When I was about to enter elementary school, my sister accompanied me to enroll at Anonang Norte Elementary School in Bogo City, Cebu. I walked to school every day. Each morning, I would wake up early to cut grass for our two cows. After school, I returned to the fields to gather more. I studied at Anonang Norte until Grade 4, then transferred to La Paz Elementary School for personal reasons. Most of my siblings graduated from Anonang. I may not have been the smartest student, but I was diligent. My routine was school and work, and during weekends and summers, I helped my family taking care with the cows and worked on the sugarcane plantation—even at a young age. The cows we tended belonged to a relative, Inday Vic Alagase.

After elementary, I wasn't sure where to attend high school, as there were few public schools nearby. I prayed that one would open in our barangay—and indeed, La Paz National High School was established. I enrolled there and continued my routine of waking early to cut grass and catch a free ride with my brother on a sugarcane truck to school.

Weekends and holidays were spent in the fields with my brother Ondo Tali, helping from cutting grass to harvesting sugarcane—under the sun or in the rain. For those who have worked in sugarcane plantations, you would understand the hardship. Name any farm task—I’ve done it. The cows we cared for helped our family make ends meet.

Despite these challenges, I finished high school with flying colors.
After high school, I couldn't go to college right away. I worked in Danao City at Tokyo Hardware, then assisted my brother in Mandaue with his baking business while taking care of my nephews—who are now professionals themselves. At 18, I moved to Buhisan, Cebu City, and worked at Metro Gaisano. Despite having no backers or strong connections, I got hired by Metro Gaisano (VicSal Corporation). When that job ended, I worked at Colonnade Supermarket.

Meanwhile, my former high school classmates were already in their second year of college. During my days off, I would go to National Bookstore in Ayala and Mango Avenue to read materials for college entrance exams. I applied to CNU and USJR and passed both. I chose Cebu Normal University (CNU), a state university, and went home to Bogo City to inform my parents of my plan to study. My mother is very supportive of my decision.

At CNU, I pursued a Bachelor of Science in Biology. I studied by day and worked by night as a part-time bagger at Metro Gaisano – Colon. My father sewed my college uniforms—just as he did in my elementary years. His work was so durable that I never experienced a single tear.

I would go straight from class to work, often taunted by my OIC for my un-ironed uniform. I remained silent, choosing grace over confrontation. Later, I explained I was a working student—and from then on, she understood and treated me with kindness.

I worked part-time from 6:00 PM to 10:00 PM because I wanted to finish college. Though tuition was minimal, it was not free. I sometimes wrote promissory notes. Eventually, I received a scholarship during the term of Congressman Martinez and Cong. Salimbangon. Still, the funds didn’t arrive on time, so I continued working—at Chowking SM Cebu and as a tutor for Korean students.

College was no easy ride. It was filled with hard work, sleepless nights, and sacrifice. After graduation, I worked as a medical representative, but my heart wasn’t in it. I eventually found purpose teaching biology and chemistry at Royal Oaks International School. During my free time, I volunteered teaching street boys in Colon—a mission close to the heart of the Society of the Divine Word (SVD), which serves the poor and marginalized.

This mission awakened something deeper in me. After prayer and discernment, I decided to enter religious life. I didn’t renew my teaching contract and followed my heart into the SVD as a Brother candidate.

The SVD offers two vocations: as a Priest (performing sacraments) and as a Brother (sanctifying the Church through professional work such as being a teacher, doctor, nurse, architect, etc.). My formation included:
• 1 year Associate Program in Cebu for professionals
• 1 year Postulancy Program in Tagaytay City (psycho-spiritual formation)
• 1 year Novitiate Program in Calapan City, Oriental Mindoro (spiritual formation)

Afterward, I returned to Cebu and pursued a Master’s degree at Seminario Mayor de San Carlos. Upon completion, I wrote to my Superior expressing my desire to study Medicine. Miraculously, my request was granted.

Despite being under formation and aware of how expensive medical school is, the Society supported me fully. Their belief in me was unwavering, and after years of sleepless nights and countless sacrifices, that support bore fruit.

In 2024, I passed the Physician Licensure Examination.
Today, I proudly say: I am now a licensed medical doctor.

This journey is proof that the Divine Word became flesh and dwelt among us. Thanks be to God!

To the Society of the Divine Word, former Provincial Superior Fr. Jingjong Eduardo Rocha SVD, current Provincial Superior Fr. Roger Bag-ao SVD, the SVD Brothers, teachers, formators, SVD Crusaders, family, relatives, and all my friends near and far Brendan Walls, Bishop Peter Johnson, Stephen Pierce, Fr Bill Rickle and SJ friends, Pastor Reg Weeks & Diane Gilliam-Weeks, Rev Scott Martin, Charles A. Mulik, Fr Steve Coffey—thank you so much for shaping the person I am today.

My story isn’t mine alone—and it’s never meant to boast. It’s a tribute to every student striving to stay in school, every worker enduring long, tiring days, and every dreamer holding on in the face of life’s hardships. This is for all of you.

Don’t lose heart. You never know how far grit, gratitude, determination, kindness, and unwavering faith in God can take you.

If you can relate to my story, what title would you give it?
Feel free to type your answer below.

08/07/2025

A Filipino farming couple from San Remigio, Cebu — 𝐃𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐒𝐫. and 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐨-𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐣𝐚 — spent their lives toiling under the scorching sun, driven by one powerful dream: to give their children a better future. With modest means and no financial advantage, they chose to invest in what mattered most — 𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Despite the odds, they remained steadfast in their mission to send all eight of their children to college. Their unwavering dedication bore remarkable fruit: each child earned a degree in fields such as 𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒄𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆, and 𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. Even more inspiring, all eight passed their respective professional licensure exams, a testament to the values of perseverance, sacrifice, and love instilled by their parents.

Their story, shared by daughter Jovy Cataraja-Albite on Facebook, quickly went viral, resonating with Filipinos across the nation and beyond. It wasn’t just about overcoming poverty — it was about vision, grit, and hope. The Catarajas didn’t seek praise or recognition. They simply wanted their children to have the opportunity they never had.

Today, they stand as a powerful symbol of what faith, hard work, and family values can achieve — a quiet legacy of two humble farmers who built a future far brighter than their own.

08/07/2025

In Brazil, a horse gave a heartbreaking farewell at the funeral of its owner.

The incident reportedly took place in the town of Conselheiro Lafaiete, Minas Gerais, Brazil. The horse, named Bilhote, was deeply mournful after the sudden death of its owner, Antonio da Silva, who had died in a traffic accident.

As the ceremony took place, the horse slowly walked around the coffin, sniffed it gently, and then rested its head on top, letting out long, heavy sighs. It flinched and shifted, almost as if it was trying to say goodbye to the only true friend it had ever known.

Moments like this remind us — there is no loyalty in the world deeper than that of animals.

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06/07/2025

FROM PORTER, ICE CREAM VENDOR TO VALEDICTORIAN LAW GRAD!

LOOK: Jorenz Obiedo, once a porter and dirty ice cream vendor, is now a valedictorian law graduate batch 2024 of the University of Caloocan City College of Law.

In a televised interview, he shared his experiences, which were incredibly not a walk in the park. He remembers how he juggled multiple jobs—including being a sorbetero, kargador, dishwasher at a lugawan, and even a hardware boy—in order to send himself to law school. Nevertheless, despite having to work while studying, he managed to finish law school with flying colors.

📷|Jorenz Obiedo FB Account
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05/07/2025

🌊 REMEMBER THE VIRAL CEBUANO STREET SURFER?

Meet Jave Arnaiz, the guy whose 15-second video of street surfing brought smiles to millions—racking up over a million views on his original post and even more on countless reposts.

What was meant to spread good vibes quickly turned into harsh judgment. People were quick to mock him, call him names—adik, suyop pa, undangi na ng drugs—without knowing his story, his heart, or his purpose.

But instead of letting their words define him, Jave turned every insult into fuel. He worked hard, studied harder, and today, he stands proud as a graduate of the University of the Philippines, one of the country’s most prestigious institutions.

On his post, he shared a message for anyone who’s ever been mocked, misjudged, or misunderstood:

“You are more than what they see. You are purpose. You are strength. And with faith, grit, and grace, you’ll rise above it all.”

✨ What can we learn from Jave Arnaiz’s story?

Rise Above Judgment.

No matter how others label you, remember: you are stronger than their opinions, worthy beyond their words, and with faith and perseverance, you can become who you were meant to be. 🙌❤️

PAYTER GYUD NING MGA BISAYA!

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02/07/2025

𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩!

2002 — I was born
2007 — My mother died
2011 — My father died
2012 — My sister and I were taken in by our mother’s sibling. I called them Mom and Dad then and now. Loved by them. Nurtured. Supported
2015 — Graduated elementary
2017 — My dad got imprisoned
2018 — My mom died
2019 — My brother died
2021 — Graduated high school
2022 — Dad was released from prison
2023 — Diagnosed with major depressive disorder
2025 (June 17) — I graduated college
From a young age, life taught me grief before I could even spell the word.
Talaga namang I’ve faced loss, heartbreak, judgment, and moments that really broke me.
That’s why I don’t usually tell people my story. When someone asks, I just smile and change the topic, not because I'm ashamed, but because I know most people probably don’t care, and many won’t understand what it means to grow up with loss as your shadow.
But I want you to understand something:
𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙚, 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨, 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙡. People who keep showing up, not because it’s easy, but because we don’t know how to give up.
There were times I didn’t want to get out of bed.
Times when I had no idea how I’d keep going.
Times I had no one to rely on but myself.
Times I had to carry the burden of survival alone.
I entered different jobs, anything I could find, just to suffice my studies.
I could’ve had every reason to stop gyud, to give up completely.
But no matter what was happening, one thing remained constant:
𝙄 𝙠𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥.
No matter where I was in life, kada enrollment—from high school until college— nagapa-enroll jud ko. (Proud to say never jud ko naka undang. Wala pud ko naka balik.)
Even when I was judged.
Laughed at.
Belittled.
Humiliated.
Underestimated.
Insulted.
They tried to make me feel small.
And I did feel small sometimes.
But I showed up anyway.
I didn’t have a lot of things.
No safety net. No backup.
No certainty.
I only had faith. I had grit.
I had purpose even when it felt blurry.
I worked in silence. I healed quietly. I cried quietly.
𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙠𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥.
Now here I am, not just a survivor, not just a student, but a graduate. If I hadn’t kept showing up, I wouldn’t be here.
𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱.
And that’s where the magic starts.
So if you’re reading this and life feels heavy, this is your reminder:
•Even when your heart is breaking.
•Even when everything inside you wants to quit.
•Even when no one claps for you.
KEEP. SHOWING. UP!!!
Because that’s how you build a life.
That’s how you make it through.
That’s how you prove to yourself and the world that you are more than your pain,
more than your doubts, more than your fears, and that you are capable of rising again.
And when you rise, WOUNDED BUT WALKING, you start to see a bigger picture.
That maybe everything you’ve survived wasn’t just about enduring…
Maybe it was preparing you for something greater.
And someday, I will stand in rooms I never thought I’d reach.
I will speak for those who feel unheard,
because I once needed someone to speak for me because of loss.
I will be a light in dark places, a voice of hope for the hurting, and a reflection of love.
In time and in place, these hands, this voice, this heart, this person you see here
will go on to touch lives.
To inspire.
To prove that resilience can be louder than pain.
I will dedicate myself to being the help and hope that others need, not because I have all the answers. But because I have lived the questions.
Against all odds.

𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗖𝗜𝗘 𝗘. 𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗛𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗔
Bukidnon State University
Class of 2025 — 𝗖𝗨𝗠 𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗗𝗘

26/06/2025

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧

It can be a harsh punch in the gut to get rejected from your first-choice program for college. Francis Kenneth Araya turned stumbling blocks into stepping stones, as he embraced his second-choice course on a whim and ultimately rose to the top as valedictorian and summa cm laude.

Araya initially set his eyes on medical technology when he decided to leave his hometown in Bicol and apply to the University of Santo Tomas. He picked biochemistry as his backup despite knowing little about it.

However, fate appeared to play a cruel joke on him as not only was he rejected from the medical technology program, but he was also placed on the waiting list for his second choice.

But Araya’s determination to pursue a bright future fueled him to persevere in securing a slot in biochemistry. And now, he graduated with flying colors, earning a general weighted average of 1.081 under a program that he picked without much thought.
Getting derailed from his goal

Before applying for college, Araya said that he and his batchmates felt like they were already at a disadvantage as there was no college entrance test during that time. During the COVID-19 pandemic, schools relied on grades and extracurricular activities for their applications.

"Until Grade 9 to Grade 11 kasi 'yung grades na considered for college. Eh karamihan sa amin, like me, hindi pa seryoso nung Grade 9 at Grade 10, so hindi ako masyado nag-hope or nag-expect na makakapasa ko but I still tried," he said.

Medical technology had been Araya's "dream program" since he was in high school, as he wanted to pursue a career in medicine.
"Wala akong naisip na second choice sa UST, medtech lang. Tapos naisip ko, applyan ko na lang kaya 'yung other courses within the Faculty of Pharmacy. Tinignan ko 'yung biochem, but before choosing biochem, binasa ko muna 'yung curriculum tapos 'yung description ng UST website. Sabi ko, 'Wow, ang cool ng subjects,' Hindi ko alam mahirap pala," he recalled.

Out of all the schools he applied to, Araya only passed two—UST and De La Salle University. Since he knew he couldn’t afford studying at DLSU, UST was his only option, which is why he persisted in emailing the department every day for two weeks until he finally secured a spot in the biochemistry program.

"I know there [are] many opportunities talaga in UST," he shared, adding that he wanted to live on his own. "I was sheltered by my grandparents, so parang sabi ko gusto ko din ma-try magbuhay mag-isa to get the full college experience."

As he began his university life, Araya encountered another hurdle: Physics and calculus, subjects he struggled with as a STEM student during senior high school.

However, his fears were eventually alleviated thanks to his professors. "Nung nalaman ko na first year, first term pa lang, we have Physics 1 tapos calculus, I was afraid, pero nung na-meet na namin 'yung mga professors, magaling naman silang magturo. So hindi ako masyado nahirapan adjusting, considering my STEM background din," he said.

With a scholarship to maintain, Araya strived to improve his math knowledge. One habit that helped was to summarize the formulas on one page so it would be easier for him to see them all.

"When I review, at least 'di na ako magbubuklat-buklat, nadyan na lang sila. In a way, kapag exam, navi-visualize ko kung saan nakalagay yung ganitong formula. Parang lahat ng study styles, ma-incorporate mo into the review.

But since medical technology was his original goal, Araya found himself torn between his dream and his reality in biochemistry.
"Initially, sabi ko try ko lang muna (biochemistry) kasi I really don't know what to expect sa course na pinili ko. Pero after a week or so, sobrang na-enjoy ko 'yung classes, especially our professors. They're very caring and magaling talaga silang magturo. So, I decided not to shift to another course," Araya said.

Araya further had a pivotal realization during his third year that led him to reconsider his medical school dreams.

"Kasi sa third year, lahat ng major biochem subjects namin, doon siya. Sobrang bigat and sobrang hirap niya, so parang doon ko na-realize na I may not be for medical school kasi I really don't like 'yung pag-memorize lang ng mga bagay-bagay. Gusto ko iniintindi," he shared.

It was also during this time that he began participating in research paper competitions. In 2024, Araya bagged the first place at the 7th International Symposium and 14th Annual Scientific Conference for his work on chemical hazards present in traditional v***r rub liniments.

This deepened his passion for the course even more.
"I didn't really expect na mananalo ako doon, considering na graduating students yung kalaban ko. After that win, I realized na maybe research really is the path for me. And research is really the core of biochem," Araya said.

"After nun, sunod-sunod na yung conferences na sinalihan ko. I went to [my hometown of] Bicol, tapos I also went to Korea noong May to compete as well. So given the gravity of the events that I attended, meron pala talagang moment na masasabi mo na nag-start ka lang from requirement sa subject tapos ma-rerealize mo na it would lead to bigger things. So, of course, sobrang saya lang sa feeling nun," he continued.

Araya is now aiming to pursue a Ph.D. program abroad, but still plans to return to the Philippines to contribute to the scientific community.

"Kulang talaga ng mga researchers na dedicated to their craft here in the Philippines, especially those researchers na 'yung vision nila for the future is malaki," he highlighted.

"Madami sa Pilipinas, pero karamihan umaalis kasi mas marami 'yung magandang opportunities sa ibang bansa. So, I hope to contribute to the Philippines by establishing [research] of my own here that may be related to healthcare," he added.

For now, Araya is celebrating his achievement as the valedictorian of UST Class of 2025 and continues to inspire his fellow students with his story.

"Whenever juniors would ask me kung paano ko nasurvive yung biochem, I always tell them to love the course. The course is really challenging, but when you find it interesting and when you love the course, sobrang mas mapapadali yung pag-aaral mo," he underscored.

For students who feel lost after a setback, he advised, "A rejection may feel like all your plans are broken, but you get to pick up those broken plans and you get to start again and form a new one. Looking back, grabe pala 'yung pinagdaanan ko na I was rejected from medical technology, and although disappointed, I really tried to do whatever I [could] with the given opportunity I [had at] that time."

"It's all up to you how you'll bounce back and pursue greater heights to overcome your rejection. Nasa sa'yo na yan if you'll [let] the rejection get to your head or not," he added.

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