The Compass that Leads Me to Where I Should Be

Not knowing which direction to step into is truly difficult to think through and reflect on. Yet the moment you finally find a direction you want to take, another dilemma arises: Should you follow this path or turn the other way around? Amid this uncertainty, a compass emerged, guiding me toward a new direction — toward answers, clarity, and a renewed sense of mission, a renewed sense of purpose.

The Start of the JOURNey…

I spent most of my life not just as a student, but as a campus journalist—a copyeditor and headline writer for almost a decade. It was never something I planned. I was not the type to stand out; I was quiet, reserved, and often kept myself within the four corners of the classroom. I lacked confidence, and trusting myself was something I constantly struggled with. But everything began to change when I stepped into this field.

At first, I saw journalism only as a competition. I joined to chase medals and recognition, and every loss felt personal. I constantly asked myself, “Am I not good enough? Why am I not winning? Am I just average?” These questions lingered after every setback. My journey was never like those who consistently won and easily advanced. Instead, mine was built on sleepless nights, endless reading, moments of frustration, and repeated trial-and-error, all while holding on to one goal: reaching the National Schools Press Conference (NSPC).

In 2024, I came close. I qualified for the Regional Schools Press Conference in Central Luzon, but I fell short of reaching the national level. That night, I sat alone in a dim corner of the venue and cried—not just because I lost, but because I was tired. My former coach found me there and sat beside me, saying, “Nak, alam kong masakit, pero ‘wag mo nang sukuan. Ibigay mo lahat. Alam kong taon mo na next year.” Her words stayed with me, but even then, I was unsure if I still wanted to continue.

I had reached the point where I wanted to say, “Tama na.” Maybe I was meant to stay inside the classroom, to focus on academics, to be practical. CETs were coming, scholarships were waiting, and it seemed like the safer path to take. But then a thought struck me, “Was I really going to end seven years of my JOURNey just because I did not win? And more than that, was I only really chasing medals instead of remembering why I became a campus journalist in the first place?”

That realization was heavy. It felt like I had misunderstood the very craft I chose to pursue. And from that moment, something shifted. My journey did not stop, it evolved, it grew. I moved from contest journalism to community journalism. I became more active, more vocal, and more intentional in my role. I became editor-in-chief, mentored aspiring journalists, and began to see journalism not as a way to win, but as a responsibility to serve.

I still joined schools press conferences, but this time, I carried a different purpose. I poured my heart into it, not for medals, but for meaning. And somehow, that shift brought me to the very place I once dreamed of. In 2025, I became the National Champion for Copyediting and Headline Writing (English-Secondary). Years of hard work, lessons, and realizations finally paid off.

And yet, despite reaching the top, I still felt empty. I still felt lost.

When I Didn’t Know Which Path to Take…

Even before NSPC, several questions had already been forming in my mind, “What comes after this? What happens when the competition ends? When the stage is gone? Do I stop? Do I move on? Or do I find a way to continue?” Spending almost half of my life in this field was not something I could easily let go of, yet staying without direction felt just as difficult.

And after NSPC, that question only grew heavier. I had reached the destination I once dreamed of, yet I no longer knew where to go next. Should I focus on practicality, academics, stability, the future ahead of me? Or should I continue pursuing journalism, even if the path was uncertain? Both choices felt equally hard to think about. Both required letting go of something important.

It was in that moment that I realized something I had never considered before: winning does not always give you direction. Sometimes, it leaves you searching for one. And in the middle of that search, I found myself waiting, until eventually, I encountered a compass.

When I First Saw the Compass…

My encounter with Explained PH began long before I became part of it. During my preparation for NSPC, I attended their JournCamp webinars. At first, I treated them as additional learning, just another way to improve. But over time, I began to see something more. It was not just a platform—it felt like a direction.

So, I reached out through Ate KZ Galvan, then-head copyeditor of Explained PH, hoping to find an opportunity. But at that time, there was none. No opening, no path to take. So, I let it go. Then, months later, in mid-July, applications for the Copyediting Desk opened, and I tried again. I applied, waited, and held on to the possibility that this might finally be it. But weeks turned into months, and still, there was no update.

Eventually, I stepped back. I told myself maybe it was not meant for me, maybe it was a sign to move forward elsewhere. And so, I accepted that this compass only led me to a dead-end path.

When I Started Following Its Redirection…

Then, unexpectedly, everything changed—a rerouting happened. 

In November, Ate Jhewen, associate editor of Explained PH, invited me to speak for their JournCamp+: National Campus Press Summit. That time, I stood there not as an applicant, but as someone who is capable of sharing what I had learned over the years.

In the middle of the conversation, she brought up something I did not expect—applying for Explained PH. Since I honestly did not expect even to be invited as a speaker, she said, “Expected mo na dapat ‘yan. Gusto mo, ipasok pa kita sa Explained.” And I said yes, OF COURSE!

From what once felt like a dead-end path, it suddenly shifted into a new direction again.

But during my speakership, something unexpected happened that made me overthink everything—I went over time.

I remember feeling my chest tighten the moment I realized I had exceeded my allotted minutes. After the session, I was completely embarrassed. “Shocks, na-badshot ako. Naku, wala na—ekis na ‘yung pag-join ko sa Explained,” I told myself. It felt like I had ruined the very chance I had been waiting for.

And despite Ate Jhewen’s reassurances that everything was fine, that I did well, I still thought that would be the end of it—that I had already closed the path to Explained PH because of that mistake.

But it wasn’t.

In December, I received a message from Kuya Daiven, another associate editor of the organization. It was not just an invitation to join as a staffer—it was something I never expected.

It was an offer to lead as the Head Copyeditor at Explained PH.

I could not believe it. I kept rereading the message, questioning if it was real. Why me? Am I ready? Am I even qualified? I felt like I wasn’t as experienced or capable as the others. But after reflecting, I chose to accept. Because I realized that sometimes, maybe opportunities come not when you feel ready—but when you are meant to grow into them. 

Then, weeks after accepting the role, I had the chance to talk with Kuya Chief Archie, our editor-in-chief. I remember feeling nervous at first. I thought he would be strict, maybe even intimidating. But I was wrong. He welcomed me warmly, even calling me “bro,” and in that simple moment, something hit me. I felt it… that sense of belonging. That I was not just stepping into a responsibility, but into a family as well.

That was when I understood: a compass does not always point forward in a straight line. Sometimes, it swings back and forth, until it leads you back to the right direction—to bring you exactly where you are meant to be.

Why Do I Still Feel Lost…?

Stepping into this newsroom did not remove my doubts. If anything, they became louder. There were moments I still questioned if I deserved the role, moments when I felt unprepared and overwhelmed. But Ate KZ, our now senior desk editor, was there guiding me, reassuring me, reminding me that I could do it even when I doubted myself. I opened up to her, even asking why I was chosen, and she never failed to ground me until I learned how to stand on my own.

Slowly, I learned. Not perfectly, but intentionally. I made mistakes, I had lapses, but I chose to learn from them and stay. Because I knew that the discomfort of growth was far better than the regret of giving up, through this, I also began to understand my craft more deeply—Copyediting.

In a time where misinformation spreads easily, this craft matters more than ever—and Explained PH strengthened that belief in me. It showed me that even if we are not always at the front row of this battlefield, we are important. We are there behind every accurate article, behind every clear narrative, protecting truth, shaping understanding, and helping make information accessible to the public.

And somewhere along the process, something else also changed—I don’t feel lost anymore, as I learned how to adapt, how to belong.

What once felt intimidating slowly became familiar. Beyond the work of the newsroom, I found comfort in the people around me. From simple kumustahan to playful bardagulan, from being called “Isaiah Matthew HILARIOus” to seeing my pictures edited in the most HILARIOus ways, I found myself laughing instead of feeling out of place. What I once feared as judgment became a sign of connection. I did not see it as an insult, but as something deeper—a growing bond, a reminder that I was part of something real.

Yes, I felt lost in my first days and months. But this time, I did not stay lost—I found my way because I was guided by this compass.

Then I Understood Why It Led Me Here…

I am now in my fifth month at Explained PH. Yes, it still feels so “hilaw,” almost like I am still learning how to walk in this newsroom. I am still like a “baby” in this space. But in the process of staying, I began to realize something deeper: it does not matter. Because growth is not measured by how long you have stayed, but by how clearly you understand why you stayed.

And slowly, through everyday work and reflection, Explained PH helped me understand that beyond accolades and positions, what truly matters is how we use our skills, the passion we carry, and the courage we are willing to show—to inform, to serve, and to make sense of the world for others. From there, it became clearer to me that journalism does not end in competitions—it begins after them. And this organization gave me a space where that realization could turn into practice, not just thought.

Building on that realization, I also came to see my craft in a different light. It reminded me that my work in copyediting is not fading—it is becoming more crucial day by day.

In a world filled with misinformation, discrepancy, and bias, our role is not minor. We stand at the frontlines, not loudly, but precisely. We ensure that truth remains intact, that narratives are not twisted, and that information is not only consumed but understood.

And from that understanding, a deeper conviction followed—we are not just copyeditors. Instead, we are defenders of clarity and protectors of truth.

And in this family, a space was provided for me to continuously grow, leading me to find this path not just a role—but a mission, a purpose.

Now, I Walk the Right Path…

I may still be at the beginning of this new JOURNey with Explained PH, with more memories yet to be made and more lessons yet to be learned. But this time, I am no longer lost. I am no longer searching blindly.

I am moving forward—with direction, with purpose, and with a compass in hand.

Guided by the people, my ates, kuyas, and co-staffers, who believed in me.

Grounded in the craft that shaped me.

And committed to the mission I chose to carry.

And wherever this path leads me next, as long as there are stories to tell, narratives to correct, and people to serve, I will continue on this path, while holding on to this mantra: to read, write, express, open minds—but this time, guided by the compass that led me to where I should be.