truelaloot

Growing up multilingual sounds impressive on paper like you’re some kind of walking cultural bridge. In reality, it’s more like your brain is a chaotic group chat where nobody agrees on what language to use.

I grew up in Bicol speaking Bicolano and Filipino, but at home it was never just one language. One family member would speak Japanese, another Bisaya, someone else Waray. Conversations sounded like a linguistic potluck everyone bringing something different and somehow expecting it to work together. And weirdly… it did.

As a kid, I didn’t even realize switching languages mid-sentence was unusual. I thought everyone said things like, “Kain na tayo… tabemashou… dali na!” in one breath. Efficient, right? Why choose one language when you can use four?

Then I moved to Manila.

Suddenly, it was all Tagalog (Filipino), all the time. I had to “standardize” myself. No more linguistic freestyle. And just when I started getting comfortable, English entered the scene like an uninvited but unavoidable guest. School, media, everything English was everywhere. So now my brain had even more tabs open.

and yes minsan naiintindihan mo sila tas di mo alam ano isasagot kasi nakalimutan mo yung right words. huhu linitan!!! (bad words)

Fast forward to adulthood, and this is where the real comedy begins.

Sometimes my brain just… glitches.

Sometimes my brain just… crashes. (ulit ulit kasi totoo yan)

I’ll be speaking in English, forget a word, and casually replace it with Japanese like it’s totally normal. Or I’ll start in Tagalog and end in Visaya with full confidence. The problem is, I don’t notice. Other people do.

There are moments when I know I know a word… I just don’t know in which language it lives anymore.

Like:
“What’s the English of ‘nakakaloka’ or "lahme" "ay ambot sa imu day" "baga" ? Wait… does it even exist??”

Or:
“Can you pass me the… ano… that thing… yung parang… chotto… ay basta, that!”

My brain is buffering while five languages fight for control like it’s a reality show.

And emotions? Even worse.

Surprised? Japanese.
Annoyed? Full Filipino.
Explaining something serious? Suddenly I’m in English like I’m defending a thesis.

It’s chaos. It’s confusion. It’s me inventing a brand-new language daily.

But then plot twist I went to Japan first time as a tourist.

And suddenly… everything makes sense.

I’m not fluent, but I can converse, I can understand, I can get by. Ordering food? Easy. Asking for directions? Kayang-kaya. Reading signs? Medyo slow, but we get there. For once, my brain isn’t fighting itself it’s like, “Ah yes, this tab. We trained for this.”

Meanwhile, other tourists are panicking, and I’m there like:
“Sumimasen, where is the station?” but said with confidence and zero shame.

It’s honestly one of the few times being multilingual feels like a superpower instead of a bug.

Of course, I still mix things up. I’ll accidentally say “arigatou” back home in Manila or reply “hai” to someone who just asked me something in English. The confusion never really leaves.

But at least now I know this chaotic, mixed-up brain?

It actually comes in handy.

Even if it occasionally forgets what language it’s supposed to be using mid-sentence.