Shaped by the Frame I Once Doubted

After I graduated senior high school, I often found myself thinking—what if I had discovered journalism earlier?

By the time I found my place in photojournalism, most people around me already had years of experience, awards, and a clear sense of direction. I was still figuring things out—learning how to see differently, how to capture moments, and how to tell stories through a frame.

When my last Division Schools Press Conference came, it felt like both my last chance and the only chance I had left.

There was no “bawi next year.”
No extra time to grow into it.

And when I didn’t qualify for the RSPC and the NSPC in my last press conference, it didn’t just feel like a loss, it felt final.

My last experience in presscon didn’t give me the chance. I never qualified for the NSPC. And for someone who tried photojournalism, that felt like enough reason to stop. At some point, I convinced myself that maybe I just wasn’t good at it.

So before college even started, I had already made a decision: I wouldn’t join any press organization.

I didn’t want to go through the same cycle again—trying, failing, and questioning myself. It felt easier to let it go than to risk proving my doubts right.

It wasn’t long after I graduated senior high school when Kuya Daiven, Associate Editor of Explained PH, invited me to join Explained PH.

I didn’t say yes immediately.

I hesitated, thinking I didn’t belong there. A lot of the people in the organization were experienced—some were even NSPC qualifiers and champions, the very thing I once failed to become. It felt like stepping into a space I hadn’t earned.

But eventually, I joined anyway, without fully knowing why and without knowing what to expect.

And somehow, that decision changed things.

Because in Explained PH, it felt different. There was no quiet pressure to measure myself against others, no expectation to prove my worth through awards or rankings. Instead, I was given something I didn’t realize I needed, the chance to grow without pressure. And in that chance, I found myself improving day by day, especially through covering real-life events that taught me more than any competition ever could.

Space to learn.
Space to contribute.
Space to grow at my own pace.

And slowly, that changed how I saw journalism.

Looking back, I realize that Explained PH didn’t just help me continue, it shaped who I am today.

I realized it was never just about contests—not just about placements or being a qualifier. Those things matter, but they’re not everything. There’s more to it than competing. There’s the work itself, the stories you choose to tell, and the quiet process of becoming better without needing validation at every step.

Then came an opportunity I never expected.
I was asked by our editor-in-chief if I was interested in covering NSPC.

At first, it didn’t feel real. NSPC was something I once dreamed of being part of—as a delegate, as a competitor. But I never got that chance. And now, I was going there to tell different stories.

What made it even more special wasn’t just the opportunity itself—it was the trust behind it, and I’m deeply grateful for that.

Our Editor in Chief believed I could do it, even when I wasn’t fully convinced of myself.
Even after I said yes to covering NSPC, there were still moments when I considered stepping back.

That thought never really left me—what if what I produce isn’t good enough, or what if I fall short of the standards I set for myself? I kept overthinking my visual dokyu and outputs, questioning if they were truly worth publishing or if I was just forcing myself to believe I was ready.

But when I was finally there, everything felt different from what I had imagined.

There was no pressure to measure myself against anyone. No focus on rankings or outcomes. I was simply there—capturing moments, witnessing stories as they unfolded, and producing visual dokyu content.

For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like I was falling behind. I just felt present.

Joining Explained PH wasn’t the kind of turning point I once expected. It didn’t instantly make me the best, nor did it erase all my doubts.

Instead, it gave me something quieter but far more lasting, a reason to keep showing up. It taught me to start even when I felt unready, to give my best even when I wasn’t sure it would be enough, and to contribute to something bigger than my own uncertainties.

In that process, Explained PH slowly shaped who I’ve become today not only as a journalist, but as someone learning to continue despite hesitation.

I’m still learning.
I’m still improving.

But I’ve stopped seeing my doubts as reasons to quit. Now I see them as part of the process of growing.

Maybe this was never about proving I was already good enough.

Maybe it was about realizing I didn’t have to stop just because I once believed I wasn’t.
It wasn’t the “big break” I once thought I needed.

It became something better, it became my becoming.

I am not the most experienced journalist, and I still have a lot to learn. But because of Explained PH, I’ve found a voice that feels stronger than I expected it to be.

To Explained PH, thank you—not for seeing perfection, but for seeing potential.

And as I approach my first year with Explained PH, an organization that has continued its purpose beyond the campus for six years, I carry with me one lesson I’ve come to understand along the way: that growth in journalism is not measured by how early you start, but by how willing you are to keep learning, even when you begin later than others.