Little Thing 327: Stuck on a Replay

The project we worked on for the past two months didn’t end well, and I’m still trying to make sense of what went wrong. It’s hard not to replay the mistakes and imagine what we could have done differently. While I wasn’t physically present during the two critical days when things unfolded, I was still part of the team. We invested time, effort, and a lot of energy into this project, and that makes the weight of it difficult to shake.

So here I am, at 5 a.m. on a Saturday morning, still sitting with the grief.

I keep circling back to the idea of reciprocity, how we expect effort to be met with outcome, energy with return. When that balance breaks, it leaves something unresolved. Nothing feels unfinished in terms of work, yet emotionally, the exchange feels incomplete, and I don’t quite know what to do with that yet.

Reciprocity assumes balance: effort in, outcome out. But human systems aren’t closed systems. You can put in energy, time, and care, and still receive something that doesn’t reflect that investment. I understand this intellectually, but the emotional imbalance still persists. I don’t have a resolution here. Just the awareness that when you give deeply, and the return comes back distorted, it leaves a quiet ache that takes time to settle. 

You know the feeling when you give, and give, and give, believing that something will come back in return. It’s almost instinctive, as if our brains are wired to expect balance. But the truth is, we don’t get to control what comes back to us. And maybe that’s where I am right now, sitting with the very human disappointment of hopes and dreams that didn’t land where I thought they would. 

Hm.

Little Thing 326: Different Spacetimes

Let us sit around my campfire. 

I recently learned about relativity. Big term, I know, but it led to a major, eye-opening realization for me. At its core, relativity tells me that there is no single, absolute perspective. There is always more than one way to see everything in life, depending on where you stand, your experiences, your biases, desires, belief systems, name it.

An event can happen at the same time and yet become two entirely different experiences for two observers, and both can be right. The observer’s perspective shapes what they perceive as reality and how they make sense of the experience. Two people can walk away with wildly different feelings from the same moment, because they were never in the same spacetime to begin with.

We see things based on our own perspective, and we are quick to judge others through that lens. Today, you might judge someone for a decision they make. Five years later, you might judge that same person, for the same decision, very differently. What changed? Your perspective. Where you are in your spacetime. You are the same person, and yet not the same at all.

Relativity taught me that understanding isn’t about agreeing on one truth, but about asking where someone was standing when it happened. Sometimes, that understanding invites empathy. Sometimes, it asks me to pause and not invest emotionally. Sometimes, it allows me to acknowledge my own pain without gaslighting myself or rushing to judgment.

To try, at least, to see from where they stood.

But you need to understand that it is not an agreement. Perspective can be acknowledged without being absorbed. Empathy does not require self-betrayal. You can stand your ground, in your own reality. After all, you are not in the same spacetime anyway. 

And Einstein might agree.

Little Thing 325: How Very Human

Schopenhauer would say heartbreak hurts because the illusion collapses, but he never warned how physical it feels. Lately, there are these tiny, ambush moments; small triggers, stray thoughts that remind me heartbreak isn’t abstract at all. It feels as if someone reaches straight into my chest and crushes my heart over and over, slow and deliberate. What an odd thing, kan, that something happening entirely inside my mind can manifest like a bodily injury. How powerful thoughts are, how unforgiving.

What unsettles me most is how the pain arrives in waves I never invited. I can be working, reading, washing a cup, eating my third piece of chocolate and suddenly a thought slips in, harmless at first, then sharp, then crushing. Schopenhauer would probably say this is the Will asserting itself again, reminding me that suffering follows wherever desire once lived. But living through it feels less philosophical and more like being ambushed by my own nervous system. Thoughts shouldn’t have this kind of power, yet here they are, turning memory into muscle ache, disappointment into something that feels carved into bone.

I told my brother last week that pain is inevitable, but suffering is a choice. Healing, in that sense, isn’t gentle work, it requires walking straight into the fire. There’s no shortcut, no numbness that won’t eventually wear off. You go through the hell, you feel every degree of the heat, and only then do you reach the other side. You arrive at the door burned and crisp, but alive. And maybe the bitterness follows you for years, maybe forever, but it’s the bitterness of someone who survived the flames, not someone consumed by them. I hope.

Standing here in the middle of my own wreckage, I’m reminding myself that the point isn’t to avoid the hurt. It’s to learn the shape of it, to understand how it moves through the body, how it teaches, how it burns without fully destroying. The illusion collapses, the pain arrives, the waves come and go and somehow, we are still here. 

I can close my eyes and pretend it doesn’t feel like I’m slowly dying inside, but honestly, we’re all dying anyway. That part isn’t new. Pain just makes the whole thing louder. Still, it has its uses. Pain writes better than I do. Pain paints. Pain gives me one more day where I get to say something almost beautiful about being alive. 

How very human of us, to hurt this much and call it art ❤︎

Let’s rejoice, I guess.

Little Stories 325: December Post

Year-end Wrap Up

My ultimate stressful project is finally happening next week. I’ve finished almost all the designs, especially the printed materials, after all the chaos of preparation and planning. These two wild months passed like an epic rainstorm and somehow I survived. Lots of tears, zero sweat (I had no energy to run), no caffeine (GERD said “hi” the moment stress peaked), and way too much ranting to the poor souls who had to listen. I don’t even know how many times I said, “I want to quit and move somewhere rural.”

But hey, I made it. (Not yet, but almost)

And right after I hit “send” on those files, I applied my long leave. I wasn’t even sure I’d dare to, but I clicked it anyway.

I’m going to shut off from all the work stress and recalibrate.

- 

Padang & Bukittinggi Trip

I still can’t believe that two weeks ago I was in Indonesia.

I didn’t even have time to process it in the middle of all the project chaos. But surprise, surprise; the trip was actually okay. Everyone behaved, everyone tried. We were all relieved it went well. But mother nature was not in the mood. It rained heavily even before we arrived. We had gloomy hours, then drizzle, then heavy rain again, repeat on loop. We went through episodes of landslides, floods, broken branches everywhere. Our driver was a legend, always finding safe detours and getting us from point to point without fail.

The trip was honestly scary and a little dangerous (I hated that I was bringing Sofi into something like that), so I stayed tense until the very last day. But our tour guide? He was calm as a monk with a mic. He talked non-stop; stories, history, culture, geography, food, religion, language. He sang, joked, kept us entertained for hours, even in the rain and pitch darkness on those wet, hilly roads. He distracted us; never once mentioned his own worries. He just did his job incredibly well.

Despite the really bad weather and temperature below I could handle, we came home in one piece.

And that family trip, was an eye-opening experience. My dad asked us what did we learned on this trip. I learned that when someone wants to make an effort, they will. Full stop. Being accountable for your behaviour is something you learn, not something you dodge by saying, “I can’t change, this is just who I am,” and wearing it like a badge.

Because, to be real, every single day of my life is a deliberate choice to be a better person than the version I’d be if I stopped trying. I’m not perfect, I’m just someone who tries to show up, adjusts, reflects, apologises, and tries again. Accountability isn’t a personality trait. It’s a practice. Do you seriously think I’d still have any trust in humanity if I didn’t rein in my own thoughts?

I was still the party-pooper.

But I'm glad, we all had a decent time.

-

Machine vs Human

We had a conversation at the office about how I mostly work with machines and honestly, I prefer it that way. We were talking about dealing with different types of humans, based on their nature of work, and I realized how thankful I am that I don’t have to interact with clients directly anymore.

And then I started noticing a pattern in how I’ve been shaped; how the little sequences of my childhood were imprinted on me and now feel woven into my personality. I love machines, and I prefer avoiding human drama. I think it comes from growing up with parents who had very distinct personalities; I learned early on to avoid conflict and unnecessary interactions. I preferred burying my face in books, shutting the world out with earphones everywhere I could.

This isn’t to justify my anti-social tendencies, because I do make an effort to carve out space for human interaction from time to time. That’s also why it’s rare for me to genuinely like anyone. And when I do, I’m often surprised by the very human nature that can emerge - even from someone like me. My sister has been asking me to try to meet new people, but ugh, the idea. 

Machines don’t ask for much. 

Humans do, and we are awfully reckless creatures. 

-

Little Thing 324: Emotions Are Not Flaws

You know, I talk about pain a lot, kan? I'm not shy about being vulnerable because I've learned the importance of naming what I feel. Several years ago, when I wasn’t in the right space and spent more time in denial than awareness, I spiralled into anxiety and depression. It wasn’t sudden, it was a slow collapse from ignoring myself for too long. Over time, through learning about who I am, opening up, patching the holes, and trying to manage things on my own, I reached this point. And I know this for sure now: whenever I lie to myself for too long, I spiral. Whenever I deny what my heart is asking for, I spiral. If I ignore it, the anxiety symptoms come back, the ones I can recognise now, though I didn’t understand them back then.

So I don't lie anymore.

I’m much more open than I used to be. Other than the moments I retreat into my deep well, I’m vocal. It’s either the truth or complete silence. I don’t fabricate. I don’t sugarcoat. I don’t rewrite my own feelings just to keep the peace.

I learned to voice out my emotions in full sentences: “I’m anxious right now, and the reason is…”, “I’m stressed out, and these are the triggers…”, or “I don’t want this / I don’t like this because…”. Maybe it comes with age or experience, or maybe it’s simply because I’ve seen how lying about what I feel leads to more harm. And it’s not just emotional harm. Long-term emotional suppression and chronic stress really do shape the body, they influence the immune system, shift hormones, and make any underlying condition worse. The body absorbs everything we refuse to process.

So if you are not feeling good and you are not sure why. Listen. 

You’ll feel it physically: the withdrawal, the sudden weight changes, the loss of interest, the brain fog, the exhaustion that doesn’t go away, the indigestion, the random rashes, the jitters, the allergies, the anxiety spikes, the gastric episodes, the muscle tension, the vertigo, the headaches; all the small rebellions your body stages when your mind is carrying too much. A lot of these signals begin in the emotional landscape; they’re reminders that everything is connected. The body reflects what the psyche holds.

In the end, we don’t get to choose whether life gives us pain, but we do get to choose whether we meet it honestly. Awareness isn’t about fixing everything; it’s about refusing to negotiate with our own denial. It’s choosing to tell the truth because the body always knew it anyway. Maybe healing begins not with bravery, but with the simple decision not to lie to ourselves anymore. To name what hurts. To stay with the discomfort long enough for it to teach us something. 

And if someone tells you you’re “too emotional,” it’s fine. 

At least you’re not lying to yourself. At least you’re accepting that you’re human, and that feeling is not a flaw.

-

Note: It took me 35 years to learn this and I am still managing it. So kids, listen to your emotions and learn how to manage it, don't deny it.  

I can see my siblings struggling in denial lately, and so, I'm just putting this out in the ether.

Little Thing 323: Plans for December

Remember about a month ago when I said my favourite season had arrived? It lasted for a week, then we got three more weeks of heat and now, finally, the rain is back. So, welcome home, my rainy season.

I always forget how everyone tends to fall sick during this time. If you can, avoid crowded places, stay in, enjoy the weather with a good book and something soupy. I’m rewatching Gilmore Girls for the xth time because it’s easy and familiar. I’m tired most days, and whatever mental space I have left is reserved for something soft and undemanding, the kind of thing that doesn’t ask anything of me.

For December, when the whole office scatters to the wind, I’ve decided to plan something that’s:

• enjoyable
• unrelated to work
• not meant to make money
• slow and gentle

Just so I can have a somewhat relaxing month to refresh, recalibrate, and replan.
I decided to not go anywhere (reserving that for next year). 

I’m upping my reading game. I’ve listed and bought a few ebooks I want to sink into. The fun reads. No heavy literature, just modern writing, easy fictions:

• Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil by V.E. Schwab
• Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar
• The City and Its Uncertain Walls by Haruki Murakami

I’m thinking of DNF-ing The Idiot by Elif Batuman and Must I Go by Yiyun Li. Both have about 100 pages left, but honestly, nothing happens. Just vibes. And I’m losing patience here. I don’t usually not finish a book; it feels like betrayal. But maybe it’s worse to waste time on reading vibes I don’t even enjoy.

I mentioned Things Become Other Things: A Walking Memoir by Craig Mod, I finished it. I bought the Kindle version for $1.99 after someone DM’d me on Instagram to tell me about the discount. Bought it right away; I knew I wouldn’t be getting the physical copy anytime soon. The random DM was very thoughtful. Love the book.

-

I also signed up for one month of unlimited access at a local pottery studio. A community space. I don’t fully know what that means yet, but pottery is one of the things I really wanted to learn along with yoga. So that’s my December plan. I’d love to get a one-month unlimited yoga pass as well, but I haven’t decided on the studio and I’m still figuring out whether my wallet agrees.

That’s December for now; soft plans, rainy days, and a little space to breathe.
I’m still deciding if I should use all my remaining leave, but honestly, the rain might convince me for good.

Little Stories 324: Cursed by My Tonsil

This morning comes in tune with The Adults Are Talking by The Strokes. Please listen to the song while reading this particular post. I wrote this with the song playing on repeat.

I woke up from sleep, feeling pain in my left throat, throbbing in my ears whenever I swallow. I thought it was one of my migraine (yes, sometimes it can be felt in my ear). So, I checked my throat using my phone's spotlight, lighting at the back of my now lopsided swelling throat. What the heck is that? It was huge and really painful to swallow, or talk, apatah lagi makan/minum.

Decided to visit the clinic on a whim after sending Sofi to school. 

Turns out it was a bacterial infection, complete with an abscess. That yellow thing on my left tonsil wasn’t mucus, it was pus. No wonder it hurt like betrayal. So here I am, ending the year with yet another round of antibiotics, right when I’d just started my prebiotic journey for my gut. Great.

I’m annoyed because it’s always something, kan. The doctor asked if I wanted painkillers or an MC, but I said I could manage the pain and I needed to work anyway. I answered like a true Capricorn and even my inner self rolled her eyes. Reality is hard, but I’m harder. Thus the song choice because my personal soundtrack rarely matches what I actually feel. Fake it till neuroplasticity makes it true, right? Dry humor being my coping mechanism. 

Lesson of the week: I'm not going to gaslight Sofi again whenever she tells me "sakit tekak", because if this is how she feels, this is another level of throat pain.

I do dance party whenever I'm too stressed out

- 

My brother asked why I make the blog non-public. I told him I needed the silence. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, I crawl into my hole and stay there quietly. Energy preservation mode. Then he asked, “Who even reads your blog?” 😑 Him, obviously. I’ve been quiet in the group chat, but he’s been silently stalking my posts. Where’s the silence in that. Ha. 

So because I know he misses my morning posts, I will pretend like this is a newsletter of my little drama for him. And we are mentally preparing for the family-thing, so I need to come out from my hole now, make an effort and be a normal human. 

Hope it is a good Friday for you. 

PS: Tomorrow I want to make pumpkin + cauliflower's soup at ma's and we could do like a nice outdoor breakfast meal for Sunday.

Little Stories 323: The Place We Still Meet.

Dear MC,

It is almost the year-end now, you've been gone for awhile. My office will shut down soon, and everyone’s clearing their leaves except for me. They told me to take a break too, recalibrate, recharge, whatever that means. I’ve been texting random people to see if anyone wants to go somewhere, anywhere. I still have almost a week of leave to use, but I hate the holiday season; Christmas and New Year crowds, everything expensive or closed. I haven’t decided on anything yet. Maybe I should.

This would’ve been the perfect time to plan our book retreat. We should go to Okinawa. It wouldn’t be too cold, and we could read as much as we want. 

Remember that night when I asked where I should go to continue your journey, and you typed, “Go and do your pilgrimage walk in Japan.” I haven’t been able to think about those walks without thinking of you since. The latest book I’m reading is Things Become Other Things by Craig Mod. Huge crush. The walking memoir moved me, it reminded me of the notes I wrote for you. I love it. The perfect combo: walking, writing, photography, and gentle geekiness. He is by far my favorite walker. He is living my absolute dream; quietly, intentionally, beautifully. So I've been living in Craig's shadow instead, following him around during his walks. That's the closest thing I have to the walks. 

Sometimes I wonder what you’re up to, wherever you are. If you still walk. If you still read. If you’ve found a place with endless steps and books that never runs out. Maybe you’ve already finished the pilgrimage and you’re just waiting for me to catch up.

I’ll get there eventually.

Little Thing 322: In Need of a Village

In the past month, Sofi has had scarlet fever, chickenpox, stomach flu, and now the latest another fever (she has a cold too, so maybe it’s related). I’m exhausted. The Christmas holidays are coming soon, and work has been piling up before the blackout season. Working while taking care of a sick Sofi takes its toll: the lack of focus, the dip in creativity and quality in my work. I’ve even had my fair share of 1:1 talks about it. But I couldn’t bring myself to say that managing a sick child while working has affected me tremendously because it would sound like an excuse.

I still want to be in the driver’s seat, to handle everything professionally. But sometimes, I feel like giving up. I can’t control the stress, the acid reflux, the indigestion, or the 2 a.m. wake-ups even after taking my “chill pill.” I fall sick last week (the whole week). My body is screaming in silence. I haven’t even had time to run. At the back of my mind, I’m thinking about all the projects lining up, demanding attention. Even on weekends, they hover. 

And I am angry because I had to think about work while Sofi is sick. I want to be present while making paper gnomes with her or lying down to watch Ponyo when she wants a hug, or paint the next cardboard boxes to keep her occupied, without running back to my screen every 10 minutes. IT IS SO PAINFUL.

But this is the hard season. And hard season comes and go. It makes me resilient, sure, but it also makes me feel like shait. I know I'm fueling on stress hormones and it is not sustainable.

It’s rare for me to ask anything specific from God because I don’t always know what’s best for me. But this one, I know for sure: I need a village. I want a village. A whole village to help me raise my Sofi.

Little Thing 321: In Omnia Paratus

You know there are certain things in life that you need to face because you’re a responsible person. Or maybe you’re just being dragged along by guilt and that constant self-effort to be the bigger person. Either way you show up. You brace yourself.

If given a choice, I wouldn’t want to deal with anything stressful. I just want a boring, undramatic life. But, it’s time.

-

What is exposure therapy?

At its core, exposure therapy is all about rewiring the brain’s fear circuit. When you avoid something you fear, your brain gets a little dopamine hit every time you don’t face it. It learns: “Ah, avoidance = safety.” Over time, that fear grows quietly in the dark. So maybe you’re not healed, you’re just being avoidant.

Exposure therapy shines a light on it. You expose yourself to the fear in controlled, gradual doses until your brain realizes that nothing catastrophic happens. That’s called habituation, the nervous system recalibrates, the panic response fades. It is a way for you to learn that you can manage/control your fear of something that traumatize you. You build self-efficacy. The goal isn’t to never feel fear again, it’s to stop being ruled by it. 

-

How to. 

• Treat it like emotional resistance training. Reframe it as a session, with a duration. For example: “I will endure anything and everything for this amount of time.” Like a boot camp.
• Detach expectations. Don’t set any. If it goes well, Alhamdulillah, if it doesn’t, okay. And if you don’t do great, recalibrate later.
• Practice micro-boundaries. Find small ways to stay grounded. Take a breather. Pass the baton. Step aside when you need to. Know how you’ll decompress after every exposure.
• Use humor privately. Internal sarcasm can be a psychological shield. You can intellectualize the whole thing if you need to but know that your brain gets triggered by patterns, and rewiring what feels permanent takes time. Humor turns pain into something you own. It’s not avoidance when done with awareness; it’s alchemy. Like I said before, control the narrative. 
• Take a step back and be attentive to yourself. Notice the little signs, manage from spiralling, be gentle and compassionate to yourself. 

-

I can read 100 books, I can say that I am healed, kan. But how to know for sure, unless I expose myself to the things that I avoid. So, let's d'oa for the best possible outcomes and may the odds be in my favor.  

In omnia paratus