The only time I ever felt comfortable hiring an assistant was when I had a yaya after giving birth. That was thirteen years ago, when my daughter was a newborn and my firstborn was only three. Right now, I am already working with my short-term assistant—she’s helping me with my ineptitude in social media. It helps that I’ve bowed down to my weakness before. It helps that I’m humble enough to accept, after all that’s happened in my life, that I’m Limited Edition.
A word came to me today: 擺摊. (Pinyin: bǎi tān; simplified Chinese form: 摆摊)
摆 (bǎi) means to display, to lay bare. If you break the character down further, you see the hand radical (手) attached to the number four (四), sitting on top of the character 能 (ability). It’s almost poetic: a hand demonstrating multiple abilities.
摊 (tān) also carries the hand radical, but this time, it’s linked to hardship, struggle. There’s something honest about that. Setting up shop, selling your craft—it takes work. It’s not instant, and it’s not easy. But it is yours.
So when you put it together, 摆摊 is more than just “setting up a stall.” It’s a philosophy: demonstrate your abilities, be visible, put in the work—but do it on your terms, in your space.
Every morning, when I walk around or slow jog, I notice these makeshift breakfast stalls. They sell the generic sinangag, tocino, maling, hotdog, pritong itlog, and nilagang saba, with a side of cold Sting energy drink and cigarettes. These hawkers are only available for a few hours, selling their food before disappearing like clockwork around ten a.m. Some get more customers than others, but every morning, they’re there—as familiar as the tambay sa kanto and the tricycle drivers loitering, waiting for passengers.
What made me see these hawkers in a different light were the words 摆摊. If you think about it, they sell nothing special—just typical Pinoy breakfast food. What’s distinct about them is they don’t sell 24/7. They open shop, sell what they make, and go home when the time’s up. (I wonder what they do with the leftovers.)
They don’t over-explain their hours (Limited Edition only). The hawkers don’t beg people to buy. They just set up shop and trust that the right people will come.
That’s how I need to approach my work.
And my hours. Damn, my hours. I am still insecure about them. Why can’t I reconcile the fact that as a writer and a whole person, I need unstructured time? Why won’t I give myself space to breathe, relax, create?
I’ve addressed that first-hand these past few weeks, after I quit my Big Corporate Job.
Two things happened yesterday, and this morning, after enough hours of sleep, I had another realization.
First, I was watching a true crime YouTube documentary when, out of curiosity, I checked the creator’s About section. Victor, the creator, wrote something that stuck with me: “This is just a hobby.”
Second, I was reading Jadah Sellner’s book, She Builds, about redefining what it means to be a businesswoman—on your own terms, without burnout. Sellner talked about integrating your whole self into your work—not fitting in motherhood, self-care, and creativity into the nooks and crannies of whatever time is left after business hours. Instead, these commitments should be front and center, and you build your business as a businesswoman from there.
I didn’t actively ponder these two things as I slept. My unconscious did the work for me.
When I woke up, I wrote in my journal: “Go be a mom and a writer.”
This is significant because it’s captured from my stream of consciousness.
What I should do moving forward is clearer now.
I need to treat my writing and blog as a hobby first. Not a business. Not a commodity. Not a pressure point for monetization.
I need to stop shoving my most important priorities into the extra spaces of my life. They should be my top priorities because my babies are my life. (I’m working on extending that loving mother energy toward myself, too.)
Lastly, I will give in to the irrepressible urge to share my work and let the right people find me. 摆摊.
For weeks, I have been circling around the decision to set up a self-hosted blog with my own domain name. (For non-bloggers: This means buying a domain like [YourName.com] and paying for web hosting, which gives you full control over your site, unlike free platforms where you’re limited.)
But every time I got close to pulling the trigger, I hesitated.
Buying a domain name and hosting felt like such a commitment—too official, too market-y. It made me feel like I needed to guarantee ROI (return on investment), like it had to be profitable to be worth doing.
Deep inside, a voice screamed, “It’s not about the money!”
I was overthinking it, making it bigger than it needed to be. I can set up the website and just have fun with it. See where it goes. Take it from there.
If I set up shop, if I 摆摊—lay my wares in social media—it’s not about monetization. It’s about my need to share, my hope to be read.
It’s a hobby, and I don’t need to algorithmize myself or become just another commodity.
The core purpose is to have more readers, not buyers. It’s not about people booking me as a psychologist or purchasing my books—it’s about connection.
And if I 摆摊—if I announce my limited-time-only availability as an online consult psychologist—I am respecting my boundaries. I am honoring what I can take on as a mom, a household manager, and a person with legitimate needs.
The truth is, I hired an assistant for a short time not because I wanted to “scale” or “optimize” but because I needed help. Social media is too much on my plate, and my tech shortcomings mean I sometimes need human input, not just answers from a bot.
I also realized that my hesitation in buying a domain and hosting comes from the fact that I already have two ongoing commitments with private companies where I am onboarded as an online consult psychologist. These will pick up right after my book launch.
Melany the Freelancer 2.0 or Melany the Businesswoman of Chinoy Heritage is not just building a business like everyone else.
She is not a content creator with dollar signs in her eyes.
She wants to be a midwife to the birth of your most profound, life-changing realizations.
She wants to be a sage.
And she wants to be remembered.
Melany the Freelancer 2.0 is not following the typical path.
And that’s perfectly fine.
The featured image on this blog was AI-generated by me using free tools, namely ChatGPT, Canva, and Leonardo AI. I use these images to support my written content creatively and cost-effectively.
