By Cliff Potts

Baybay City, Leyte, Philippines — September 5, 2026

Why I Came Here

I came to the Philippines on September 5, 2023, because my wife asked me to. She told me I would not be alone here. She promised that her family would welcome me, that I would be part of something, and that as I grew older, I would be taken care of.

That was the understanding I built my life on.

What I Left Behind

I did not come here halfway.

I gave away what I could not bring with me. What remained, I left behind with the expectation it would follow later. It did not.

Within three months of arriving, my wife and I made the decision to surrender my vehicle in the United States. It was still being paid on, but it was worth less than what I owed. We chose to close that chapter and accept the consequences.

I left my country, my possessions, my financial standing, and any practical path back.

I came here fully, because I believed her.

What I Built Here

After arriving, I did not remain idle.

Beginning in 2024, I used my skills to build WPS News—an archive and reporting effort focused on the West Philippine Sea and broader global developments. This work is done daily. It is structured, documented, and preserved with the understanding that it may serve not only current readers, but future historians and researchers trying to understand this period.

It is work intended to have value—for the Philippines, for the region, and for a wider audience beyond it.

Yet this work, like my presence, is largely dismissed or ignored by the people around me.

What Changed

She died on September 3, 2025.

With her passing, the connection I had to this place changed in ways that are difficult to describe but impossible to ignore. The bridge that existed between me and the people around me was no longer there.

What remained was not hostility, but something quieter.

Losses That Followed

On March 22, 2026, my dog died.

She had been with me for about two years. She died of milk fever after feeding her puppies, a condition that drained the calcium from her body and ultimately killed her.

That loss sits alongside everything else.

It is part of this record.

What I Experience Now

I am not openly mistreated. There is no direct conflict, no visible rejection. Instead, there is absence.

An absence of inclusion.
An absence of support.
An absence of acknowledgment that I am here and that I matter.

I exist, but only at the edges.

Adaptation and Expectation

I am adapting.

I am learning the language. I am learning the culture. I am adjusting to where I am, because that is what the situation requires.

What is not reasonable is the expectation that I should already be fluent in a regional language I had never even heard of before arriving in 2023. It is not an international language. It is not even a national standard across the country. It is local.

At the same time, English is an official language of the Philippines. It is widely taught and widely understood, even if it is not always the preferred spoken language in daily life.

I accept that. That is not the issue.

The issue is that adaptation is being treated as a one-way requirement.

Belonging Without a Bridge

In many countries, being the spouse of a citizen carries with it some degree of belonging, or at least recognition. Here, without the person who connected me to this place, that sense of belonging has not followed.

What I have found instead is that without that connection, I am largely invisible.

Not rejected. Not embraced. Simply not seen.

Work and Recognition

There is also a broader reality that cannot be ignored.

Work, no matter how consistent or structured, does not always carry weight in a system where recognition depends on who you know rather than what you produce. This is not unique to one place, but it is clearly visible here.

The result is that both the work and the person behind it can exist in plain view and still be overlooked.

What This Place Has Come to Mean

As of this writing, the meaning of this place in my life is not abstract.

It is defined by what has happened here.

It is defined by loss, by absence, and by the distance between what was promised and what remains.

Why This Is Written

This is not written out of anger.

It is written as a record.

Because this is what it has been.

If you read this and it matters, help me keep it going: https://www.patreon.com/cw/WPSNews


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