The Art of War and Caring for Pinoy In-Laws

I want to talk about biyenan (in-law) issues—and how they affect women’s mental health. Boys, listen up: this also impacts your relationships with us, your partners in life.

Recently, I’ve been helping my mother-in-law with her retirement paperwork—SSS, PhilHealth, and Pag-IBIG. These government institutions provide social security, subsidized healthcare, and housing or savings benefits. Like most working people in the Philippines, she had monthly deductions from her salary. Now that she’s retired, she’s finally claiming what she’s earned.

What yanked my chain was the mindset behind it all. The process wasn’t hard because of the government offices (which, to my surprise, were efficient and pleasant—four stars out of five), but because of her.

You see, my biyenan used to be my idol. A respected professor. Articulate, strong, feminist. She spoke about women’s empowerment. But here she is, at 76, finally filing for her pension—eleven years late—because, in her words, “Nandyan naman ang anak ko.” Meaning, she’s counting on her only son, my husband, to support her financially.

In the Philippines, as in many Asian cultures, filial piety is heavy. Once your parents hit 65, it’s almost assumed: you become their retirement plan. In our case, my husband—the primary earner—carries the financial load. And by extension, so do I.

Yes, this is gendered. My husband plays the role of Provider. I took on full-time motherhood and homemaker duties. We agreed to these roles. But I didn’t expect that, just because I’m the woman, I would be the primary caregiver for both our children and our elders.

Think about it: when there’s a school problem, they call the mother first. In hospitals, women usually do the elder care. It’s the expected deal.

What saddens me is how someone like my biyenan, a staunch feminist who once championed independence, ended up so dependent. What was the point of all those lectures about women earning their own keep, making their own choices, if she would later lean on her child financially without hesitation? Where did all that idealism go?

Yes, I’m judging her. And yes, I’m judging myself for doing so. But at least I caught the problem—and I am catching myself with this tirade.

I helped her file everything while she’s still alive and able to enjoy the benefits of her hard-earned career as a teacher. That much I could do. But I’m still resentful—and I’m aware of it. Even as I sit here fuming, I’m also reflecting.

I see now that my disappointment in her is partly a projection of my own fears. There’s a part of me that still struggles with money, that still wants to hand it off and pretend it’s someone else’s job. Maybe, like her, I’ve held on to unconscious beliefs that money is dirty, that managing money isn’t noble.

But this is where I make a change. This is where I differentiate. This is where I learn by bad example. I choose not to inherit that bulok mindset, and certainly not to pass it on.

I’ve started to embrace both my ancestral wisdom and Chinoy identity. In our culture, we talk about money, we play with money. We love money so much we have a Money god (财神). We are pragmatic by default when it comes to pesos, dollars, and yuan.

It’s high time I started acting like a true-blue Chinoy. Maybe this is the beginning my money growing era. Haha!

This whole episode with my mother-in-law pushed me to start reviewing my own SSS contributions. I have also updating my PhilHealth and Pag-IBIG records, and even went a step further by researching investments. I’m not just doing these things for myself, but for the future generation.

Will I always be self-sufficient? I don’t know. Life is unpredictable. Who knows if I’ll still be functional at my mother-in-law’s age? I may be physically frail or mentally compromised. I may even eat my words. But if that day comes, I will at least know I tried my best to repair the past and break the cycle of using one’s children as a retirement plan.

I look into the eyes of my son and daughter, and I want to spare them that pain. Spare their future spouses or partners—if they ever have them—that burden, too.

I’ve always questioned how the older generation did things. That’s my nature. But I’m not silently moaning about it anymore—I want action. And realistically, most older people don’t change, even with years of therapy. I see this all the time in the consultation room. My rule of thumb is: past a certain age, the pathology—the wrong thinking, the bad habits—becomes intertwined with the personality. Yanking it out is like pulling an orchid’s roots from the plant.

Now, in my 40s, I have compassion for that resistance. I understand the desire not to change, even as the world evolves around you.

So I complain, and then I move on.

With the same breath that holds contempt, I also hold compassion. With the same heart that criticizes, I also forgive.

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.”
— Sun Tzu, The Art of War

My enemy here is not my biyenan and her outdated outlook, but my own neglected, unacknowledged financial self. And knowing this, I’m taking steps toward victory in a part of my life that I have for too long ignored.

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.