Tsinelas is the Tagalog word for slippers, flip-flops, slip-ons, that kind of thing. It’s one of the most common types of footwear in the Philippines. The word actually comes from the Spanish word chinela, which makes sense, since most of our language is stitched together from the tongues of our colonizers.

These days, tsinelas are made from premium rubber, imported from South America. Funny how something so simple, something once so ordinary, can now be a statement. A brand. A symbol.

When I was a kid, I remember dreaming of nice shoes. A pretty pair of slippers. Nothing fancy, just something that didn’t scream “we couldn’t afford more.” But life didn’t exactly hand me the luxury of having “nice things.” A girl can dream, though.

In high school, that’s when I first heard about Havaianas. My rich classmates wore them to school and called them “flip-flops” like it meant something. And honestly, back then, it did. It became a bit of a status symbol in our province. The cool kids wore Havaianas, and they’d just casually ask their parents to buy them a new pair. Meanwhile, I couldn’t even bring it up to my aunt. That would’ve felt… like too much. Too extra. I knew the answer anyway.

Fast forward to today, when healing your “inner child” became a thing. I found myself walking through stores, buying flip-flops I didn’t even need. Not obsessively, just… emotionally. Maybe because now I can afford it. Maybe because I want to give it to my kids and the people I love, as if that makes up for something. I’m not sure why I’m writing about this now. I wasn’t the jealous type growing up—I knew my place, I understood my reality. But that didn’t erase the part of me that still wanted to belong. Who still wanted… nice things.

I didn’t realize how much that small, quiet longing would carry over into adulthood. Not in obvious ways, but in how I spend. In how I “reward” myself. Sometimes, I find myself pausing at the counter asking: Do I really want this? Or am I just trying to fill something I never had? And that’s kind of a sad question, isn’t it?

I’ve come to realize you can’t really heal the past. Not completely. Not when it’s already behind you. I’m not saying inner child healing is pointless; it’s not, but in my case, I think I got a little too caught up in it. Too entitled to the idea that I needed fixing. That I deserved compensation. When maybe… maybe there’s nothing broken in the first place. Just some missing pieces I had to learn to live without.

So I couldn’t afford it before. And now I can. So what?

There are so many beautiful things I missed while I was too busy trying to soothe the younger version of myself with things, things that don’t always bring comfort. And yes, I deserve to enjoy life. We all do. But maybe not at the cost of always trying to prove that I’m no longer that girl who couldn’t ask for slippers.

Maybe I’m still her sometimes. Maybe that’s okay.