11/02/2026
Barrista Solutions | A Barristaโs Journey
My mother was a stenographic reporter at the RTC of Legazpi City. As a child, I admired how she wrote in steno notes late into the night, studying tirelessly. I remember her reviewing lessons on easements and servitudes in Civil Law. When I was about to enter college, I initially chose Journalism, with Economics as my second choice. Quietly, she changed my first choice to AB Political Science at Bicol University, a decision that unknowingly shaped my future.
As an academic scholar, I treated my mother to simple meals whenever I received my tuition refund. I promised her that I would do my best to graduate cm laude, on the condition that I would work and study law in Manila.
From her expression alone, I knew she opposed the idea. I graduated with Latin honors and entered law school, though I managed to keep my scholarship for only one semester.
Along the way, I was warned to be discreet about my sexuality. I was not ready to come out to my parents, especially my mother. My classmates, however, knew from the beginning and treated me with professionalism and respect.
Everything changed when I was outed during my third year. My mother was told that I had been โinfected with homosexuality.โ I wanted to transfer law school, but she begged me to endure until graduation. I stayed respectful outwardly, but deeply hurt.
I failed the Bar in 2013. And again in 2014. I laughed off the 2014 news, but my heart broke seeing my mother cry. In 2015, my father drove me out of the house.
I carried the burden alone and, at my lowest point, even thought of ending my life. What stopped me was a small grace that led me to take the Bar again with my mother beside me in Manila.
I worked various jobs, surviving on grit and prayer. In 2017, my mother was diagnosed with Chronic Kidney Disease Stage 5. I resigned from work to help care for her. Medical expenses drained everything we had.
I later found work in a company where I was trained in real estate, corporate registration, and due diligence. Sleep became a luxury as I monitored my mother daily.
In 2018, I took the Bar again. While I was in Manila, my mother suffered a heart attack. She survived. Shortly after, my father was diagnosed with late-stage colon cancer and eventually passed away.
Before his death, he told me we are just human.
After his death, my salary went almost entirely to my motherโs dialysis, medications, and treatments.
Over the years, more than two million pesos were spent. I survived through loans, kindness, and endurance. In 2020, my motherโs condition worsened. Diagnosed with metastatic cancer, we chose to let her live her remaining days in peace. She passed away quietly in her sleep that July.
Afterward, generosity poured in. Donations helped settle medical balances. Hospitals waived fees. I carried gratitude alongside grief.
I later became an HR/Admin Manager but lost my job when I refused to terminate an employee without lawful cause. I pursued a labor case solely to recover what was due. The matter was settled, and I received my lawful compensation affirming my belief in dignity and fairness.
I worked in a law office that constantly challenged me to study again. I narrowly failed the 2023 Bar. In the 2025 Bar, technical issues and exhaustion tested me once more, but I held on. On the day of the results, I prayed for a sign. When I finally saw my name on the list, I wept.
I passed.
The delays had a purpose. I let go of excess baggage and forgave my father. The deepest pain I carry is when my mother once told me, โNoy, dae na ako ma-Bar.โ It was her dream too barred not by money or effort, but by illness.
To those whose success is delayed: please, take the Bar.
If you still can, take it.
-Atty. Lawrence C. Lesangke
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