Via Filipina 2007 No. 12
Changing Roles
By Niña Terol
Changes happen every day—some for better, some for worse. For me, the best kind of change is that which forces you to look at yourself from all angles, evaluate your life from various perspectives, re-assess the roles that you’re currently playing (or those that you want to play), and grow with the flow. Because life is more often a spiral than a straight line or a web, the best kind of change is that which enables you to move upward (even if you initially thought you’d be pulled down by it).
In the past month since I last wrote here, I’ve experienced exactly this kind of change. On a very basic level, certain things about my daily routine have changed because I’m now less busy with actual projects and am busier planning for the future—a new company, a wedding, a family. The mornings are less harried, the days are less stressful, and I actually have time to cook, clean, watch TV, read magazines, and work out! (THIS is a very welcome change, indeed.)
On another level, this slowing down has caused a substantial drop in my financial contribution at home. I make significantly less than I used to, so Paul and I had to make certain changes regarding our household expenses and activities, recreation, and, well, pretty much everything else. However, instead of causing a strain on our relationship, as well as on my emotional and mental health, our current financial situation has enabled us to streamline our activities, improve our respective workflows, strive for greater efficiency, and focus only on things that really matter.
(If those last few lines seemed to have come straight off a corporate annual report, it’s probably because our experiences have made both Paul and I sharper and more business-like in our approach to many things, including—yes—handling our domestic affairs. As partners in what could be the biggest joint venture of our lives—our future family—this is certainly a good thing.)
* * * * *
There’s another important lesson that this past month has taught me: how to really step back and play a supporting role instead of hogging the spotlight.
In recent years, I’ve become accustomed to being the frontliner both at home and at work. At home, I was the primary breadwinner and the daughter on whom Mom depended for bills payments, allowances, tuition, and… pretty much everything. At work, I was the rainmaker and the face of the organization; I hobnobbed with potential clients, closed accounts, and managed the staff and the suppliers. In my relationship with Paul, I was, in his words, “the steady hand”, “the ray of light in the darkness”, “the rock of his life,” the pillar. No matter where I was or what I did, I had to be at “performance level.” I could not let the smile fade because all eyes were on me.
This kind of pressure would have been enough to drive anyone else crazy, but it did the opposite for me. It fueled me because, being the self-proclaimed “exhibitionist” that I am (not in that way, though!), I love attention, I thrive in the spotlight. Back then I enjoyed knowing that I was performing my duties, and doing them well, because people would certainly know that it was I who did these things. I was the good daughter, I was the dedicated manager, I was the loyal and steadfast partner!
I guess I must have gotten full of it at some point, because now the Universe is telling me that my time onstage is up. It’s now time for me to step back and step down, let my co-star take his own place in the spotlight, and do everything that I can to make him look good.
It can be a very humbling experience, indeed.
* * * * *
If there is anyone else in my life who is more of an exhibitionist than I am, then it would be Paul. The eldest child and the only son in his family, and a certified performer and a public personality since his youth, Paul has certainly gotten used to the glare of the spotlight and the relative fame that comes with it. He has gone on tours and performances around the country, performed onstage with celebrities, gotten himself photographed and featured in newspapers, and been described in this way (as revealed by a Google search): “arguably the best percussionist in the country.” If I am tickled by the spotlight, he is at home in it.
The two years that he was away from the scene and re-evaluating his direction were the two years when I revved up my engines and raced to the front of the pack. Now that he’s back on track—and a more powerful performer and a better provider than ever, may I just add—I’m learning to readjust my focus, loosen my grip on whatever controls are out there, and—gulp—take a seat.
Oh, but I’m not complaining at all—let me just make that clear! I am thrilled that Paul is where he is supposed to be, and I’m honored that this amazing, wonderful person has chosen me to be his partner through all of life’s adventures (and misadventures). It’s just taking a little getting used to, but now I’m actually enjoying being a little less “productive”, being a little more relaxed and laid-back, and working my magic from behind the scenes. My dad always used to tell me that “it takes a woman to make a man,” and if this is the role that I’m being called to play now, then I’ll play it with as much gusto as if I were onstage myself.
* * * * *
This experience, and the lessons that come with it, are coming at a very good time. You see, for all of my open-mindedness and liberalism, I still believe—to a certain extent—that a good partnership, a good marriage, needs someone in front and center… and someone backstage. You can’t both be in the spotlight, at the same time, all the time. Someone has to rise up, someone has to give way, and both partners need to know when to step in and when to step back. Egos cannot be a part of this equation, or else the partnership suffers.
I have been very, very blessed and fortunate that Paul is the kind of man who is secure enough with himself to let others take the stage when they are called. When it was my turn up there, he was never jealous or envious; he was always supportive; and he never tried to pull me down. Not once did he question my motives; not once did he accuse me of emasculating him by stepping up and taking on more “masculine” roles. A man like that is very rare—something that I never saw in my family, that’s for sure.
So now that I’m transitioning from playmaker to cheerleader, from performer to awestruck spectator, from starry-eyed girlfriend to full-fledged wife and homemaker, I’m soaking up as much of these changes as possible and absorbing every bit of wisdom that I possibly can. I know that one of the most uncomfortable positions to be in is in a state of flux, but if it’s going to help me become a better partner, a better person, then I’ll welcome this and all the changes and adjustments that come with it.
*Photo taken before Paul's performance at the Bayantel relaunch, 12 March 2007.
