18/07/2025
POSTED WITH WRITTEN PATIENT CONSENT
A JOURNEY IN RECLAIMING MY WORTH
by: Sam Libunao - Juinio
You owe it to yourself to become everything you've ever dreamed of being.”
That’s what I held on to when I finally decided to seek help in August 2023.
At the time, I was severely burnt out. I was showing up, but I wasn’t really there. I was a Vice President in a highly demanding role in a multinational bank, handling product and client implementation. It was fast-paced and high-pressure — with constant deliverables, shifting expectations, and a culture I quietly struggled to feel at home in.
I’ve always been naturally driven — academically, professionally, personally. I cared about growth, visibility, doing well. Those things mattered to me, because they were wrapped up in how I saw myself. But over time, I began to lose sight of who I truly was. I forgot what it meant to feel grounded. To feel whole.
I was crying every day.
Reading my diagnosis — Major Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and burnout — was a breaking point. I had built a life around strength and control. I was the one people could count on. So asking for help felt foreign… and honestly, it felt like failure. But deep down, I knew I needed it.
I stayed in that environment far longer than I should have, holding on to hope that something would shift. That it would get lighter. But all it did was slowly chip away at my sense of self.
And in that quiet unraveling, I began to uncover older wounds.
I was born with a congenital condition in my left eye, and from a young age, I carried the fear that I was “less than.” That I wouldn’t be loved fully. That I might never get married. That fear shaped many of my choices — even the ones I didn’t realize I was making.
Working with Dr. Mocorro helped me meet those fears with compassion. I began to see them clearly — not as truths, but as old stories waiting to be rewritten. I started learning how to care for myself in ways I never had before.
Eventually, I took the hardest but most healing step: I left.
I left the job. I left the cycle that was quietly breaking me. I left the version of myself who thought she had to keep enduring in order to belong. Before I resigned, I told myself, “No risk, no story.”
I had no guarantees. No backup plan. But I knew one thing: staying would’ve meant losing more of myself. So I took the leap because sometimes the only mode of transportation is a LEAP OF FAITH. It was a beautiful uncertainty I had to embrace.
I gave myself a four-month break after getting married — not just to rest, but to rebuild. I assumed leaving would come with sacrifice. A step down. A pay cut. Maybe a loss in title.
But I was wrong.
I found a new role where I’m still a VP, now Head of ***** with a much wider scope. I’m leading differently now — more grounded, more intentional, more human. I joined a new bank that feels like a playground again. I can play. A place that values people. A place where I can grow without losing myself.
Double the pay. Full car coverage. Better benefits.
But more than anything — space to breathe.
During that break, I also became a certified life coach. Today, I coach individuals recovering from career trauma. I facilitate mental health and co-regulation workshops — including two this week. My husband and I even recorded our first podcast, where we shared our thoughts on healing, marriage, and what it means to build something real.
I’ve found purpose in helping others feel seen, safe, and whole — because I know what it’s like to forget who you are.
Since I was 21, I’ve been strategic about my path. I told myself I wanted to handle all banking products and eventually head a unit. I achieved that. My next goal was to become Head of *****— and I reached that, too.
For a while, I thought that was the final destination. But now that I know myself more deeply, I’ve started to dream even bigger.
My next goal is to enter senior management. Maybe EVP. Maybe — who knows — even CEO someday.
Nothing feels impossible anymore. Not because everything is easy, but because I’ve come home to myself. Because I’m clear on my vision, and willing to do the work — both inner and outer.
That clarity didn’t come from ambition.
It came from healing.
From learning.
From softening into who I truly am.
Doc once told me, “In life, we either win or we learn.”
That line carried me.
It helped me shift — from survival to growth.
From shame to self-trust.
I’m also learning to live differently now.
When my husband and I prepared for marriage, we did so with clarity and emotional grounding. We knew that building a life together meant first becoming steady within ourselves.
These days, we’re entering a new season of nurturing and anticipation — guided by our doctors and supported by our incredible team of medical Avengers. Our hearts are soft, expectant, and hopeful.
And still, I have goals. I always will.
But they’re no longer about proving anything.
They’re rooted in alignment. In joy. In health.
I rest when I’m tired.
I say no when I need to.
I travel, I move, I breathe.
This version of me is softer.
Wiser.
Still incredibly driven — but now, in a way that finally feels like home.
And I truly wouldn’t have reached this place without Doc.
He’s the kuya my inner child never had — someone who knew how to hold space for me when I didn’t even know what space looked like.
I came to him so raw, so unsure. I still remember having a panic attack after some harsh client feedback… crying in therapy, overwhelmed and undone. And there he was — steady, kind, holding the moment with such quiet care. Helping me breathe again.
At one point, I asked him to be my “life kuya.”
Because somehow, in my brain and in my heart, he already was.
His presence hasn’t just changed my life — it’s rippled into my family’s, too.
Honestly, I can’t imagine walking this path without him.
So thank you, Doc. From the deepest, most grounded part of me — thank you. You are, and always will be, a big part of my healing. A big part of my story.
