October 30, 2025
Writer: Julia Estiandan
Editor: Christopher Jan Dumaguin
Graphics: Jia Moral, Mtiz Sabellano
Moderator: Richardson Mojica
We all have our multo.
Not the kind that hides under our beds, in dark corners, or in creaks through old houses, but the kind of ‘Multo’ that whispers softly in the quiet hours of the night, reminding us of the things we’ve lost or haven’t forgiven ourselves for. The kind of multo that lives quietly within us—sometimes as the echo of past mistakes, regrets, the missed opportunities, the lost self, traumas, and wounds that haven’t fully healed, and even the version of ourselves we’ve outgrown but can’t let go. Other times, it’s the weight of words we wish we hadn’t said, or the silence we regret keeping. Not all hauntings come from the supernatural, but most live quietly in our memories, fears, and never ending what-ifs.
Life is not only about joy; it is also filled with pain, regrets, grief, struggles, and setbacks. And with all the heavy weight that life brings, people would usually just resort to running from their multo. It’s easier that way, drowning them out with busyness, laughter, or distractions, hoping they’ll stop following us. Sometimes, we tell ourselves we have moved on, when in truth, we’ve only learned to walk faster. But the things we avoid don’t disappear just because we turn away, instead, they only grow louder, waiting for the moment we finally face them.
So what if, just what if, instead of running from our multo, we learned to listen to them? What if healing means sitting down with our ghosts, asking what they came to teach us, and allowing them to rest once we’ve finally understood? Healing, after all, isn’t always linear. Some days we move forward, other days we find ourselves circling back to the same pain we thought we’d already buried. Yet beneath it all, we seek the same thing, the peace of heart and mind. And sometimes, the only way to reach that peace is perhaps by sitting down with the very things that break us—the pain, fear, and trauma that have been haunting us, and eventually make peace with them.
And maybe that’s what makes healing so personal. Different people carry different multo—different stories, pains, and ways of finding light again at the end of the tunnel. Some heal through time, others through faith, art, therapy, for or even the silent acceptance. There’s no single path, only countless small journeys that remind us we are all doing our best to make peace with what haunts us.
Maybe healing begins the moment we stop asking “Why me?”, and start whispering “What now?”. Running might keep us alive, but healing may also begin when we finally pause, reflect, and turn around. Let this be a reminder: healing isn’t about forgetting what hurts us. It’s about remembering without breaking. It isn’t the absence of our multo but it’s the way we learn to live gently with them.
So what is your Multo, the one you never talk about, the one that hides behind your smiles? What’s your healing story to tell? The moment we name our multo, it begins to lose its grip. Speaking about what hurts us doesn’t make us weak, but frees us from carrying it alone.
Session Questions:
- What is your multo, and how do you face it when it starts to resurface?
- How can we, as a community, make it easier for people to open up about their multo?
- How can our mental health systems create safer spaces for people to face their multo without stigma or judgment?
