Little Thing 335: What Worked, What Stayed

 

I was talking to my sibling about change, about awareness, and about how hard it is to step out of the system we grew up in. As I get older, I’m starting to see that everyone is operating within some kind of system. Some work, some don’t. But regardless, we stay in them, we repeat them, we build our lives around them. The good thing is, I can see mine. The harder part is figuring out how to rewire something that is so deeply embedded in me. How do you upgrade a system that feels like your default setting? 

For example, I grew up in a family that values independence. We don’t ask for help, we don’t lean and we endure what we need to endure, alone. There’s almost a quiet pride in it, like surviving alone is something to be respected. My mom raised four of us, and when I look back, I don’t remember a larger support system around her, no visible village. She carried it mostly on her own and it worked. But because it worked, it became the model and now it lives in us.

So one of my default response whenever I have a situation is: “Let me figure this out. Alone.” The interesting thing is, I now have enough distance from myself to see this pattern as it’s happening. I can almost step outside of myself and observe it, like a third person. I analyze it. And what I’m starting to realize is this: Just because I can do things alone, doesn’t mean I should. I should be able to ask for support when I need it, kan.

But here’s where I get stuck. How do you rewire yourself to rely on something you don’t fully trust? How do you build a new system when your old one is the only thing that has ever proven reliable? I’ve read about neuroplasticity, about CBT. I do believe that humans can upgrade. Maybe not completely change, but upgrade.

Somehow, I keep repeating the same patterns and the hardest part is, I’m aware of it. It would be easier if I were in denial. Easier if I didn’t see it, didn’t question it, didn’t try to shift it, but I do. And that awareness doesn’t automatically translate into change. It just means I can see myself looping, in real time.

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This doesn’t just apply to me.

It can relate to anything you might be struggling with in your life, especially the patterns you find yourself repeating over time. It could show up in your behaviour, in how you respond to situations, or even in the way you choose your words. If you’re willing to pay attention, you can begin to examine your belief system more closely. You can start to see what sits underneath it, question whether it still serves you, and decide if it is something you want to upgrade.

I’m not just talking about hyper-independence. It could be something else entirely. It could be staying in a victim mentality, being stuck in a fixed mindset, or believing that your worth is tied to how much you make. The form may look different, but the underlying structure is often the same.

I wonder if you can see it too, the system you’ve been operating in.

Little Thing 334: Awan

Awan passed away.

I'm still processing. She was old, around 15 years old. I knew her time was near. I have not physically seen her for around a year, because she was with Af. I can't bring a pet in the building I live in, I binded myself under a contract that I was too scared to cross. I am planning on moving soon, I promised Awan would be with me back. 

But time is time.

And I missed her final year. 

I have no one else to blame but myself. 

Awan ❤︎⁠

2011 - 2026

Little Thing 333: On Falling Sick

I had two periods when I fell sick during Ramadhan.

The first incident was accidental. It was the back pain that came after I was stuck for 2 hours at Pasar Seni carrying a 5 kg laptop bag. That night, I was already crying in pain. I had no other option but to go to the clinic. Thankfully, Af convinced me that he should drive me, because I found out that night that all the clinics in my vicinity were closed after 10 pm (not 24 hours like I thought). Imagine ngensot to the clinic at night only to find out it’s closed. Anyway, I arrived at the clinic, got a painkiller and muscle relaxant shot, and managed to sleep lying down. I had an MC the next day. I was in pain, on medication, and super groggy. Everything slowed down. The next 5 days were a recovery phase. It was not fun, purely physical pain.

The second one was a bit innocent. It started with Sofi. She had a fever and cough, then she seemed fine. But she passed it to me. I had a 5-day pulsing migraine that was connected to my right ear and the top right side of my head, twitching one eye like a pirate, with a bad sore throat, a voice like a sailor, random excessive coughing, a runny nose, and feeling like I was functioning at 30%. How extra. How dramatic, kan.

During all these sickly times, I lay in bed, counting the hours until I got better (usually after 5 days). I realized that at times like this, I’m reminded that I am alive, but also of being bedridden, or even death—everything morbid.

I also realized that whenever I fall sick, I’m usually alone, just waiting for recovery. With God’s will, I just need time. But during those challenging moments, when Sofi cried because she wanted to play with me and I had to say, “I’m sick, I can’t, I’m in pain, please,” I wished she could understand. But she’s 7, and she won’t always understand. Then I blame myself, because that’s what mothers do. We always try to be superhuman.

Anyway, that pushed me to a realization: at times like this, I have to embrace the fact that there are moments when I am incapable of being the superhuman I think I am. That sometimes, I might need to ask for help, to call for reinforcement, or to beg for support. And I’m always disappointed, because why do we rely on humans? We are so flawed. We don’t always have the capacity.

People ask me why I can’t just embrace my singlehood; being alone, it’s freeing, kan. Of course, emotionally, I do prefer being alone, I love it. But I am also a mother, and there will be times when I can’t be the best version of myself. I need a village, that’s what matters for her growth. I’m not going to sit here romanticizing single parenthood just to feed my ego, just to make myself proud for doing everything “alone.” No. This is not the time to repeat history. You have no idea how many times I’ve been gaslighted for making myself vulnerable and asking for help. The world can be utterly indifferent; I don't know why I'm still surprised. But I'm not going to give up now.

I play this in my head like it is a problem that needs to be solved, because this is what I do—solving problems. But sometimes, it is just a situation. It is what life is: the things that I can't control, the things that I need to endure, the pain that I need to carry, the emotions that I need to feel. Maybe it does not always need a solution, kan. 

It's good that I can actually process it and write my thoughts coherently. See how much I've grown.

Little Thing 332: These Walks

There are paths I imagine whenever I go to sleep.

I carry a small backpack with only the necessary things. A walking stick in my hand, I always thought about asking for MC's walking stick, but I never quite managed to. I wear a hat, a white tshirt, a hiking pants and place a towel around my neck. (Oh, let me add a Fujifilm X Half hanging on my neck in the imaginary future walks - this is new)

And I walk.

Along the path.

Some nights the path runs through a bright forest. Not the dense kind we have in Malaysia, but something gentler. 

Some nights it winds between hills of green fields, the weather moodier, the air cool with a steady breeze.

Some nights it leads into a mossy forest, with komorebi, sunlight leaking through the trees.

Some nights there are rocks and small hills to climb.

Then I fall asleep.

I only need a few steps. A quiet thought of where I want to walk that night before my system shuts down. I can’t imagine anyone beside me on these paths. I am always alone, and everything is always green. Even in reverie, it seems I return to silence. It never feels lonely, only a quiet awareness of absence. I suppose I built this small world, and no one has quite belonged in it yet.

I love these walks, even in the quiet space between dream and consciousness.

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I made new upgrade, I no longer wear footwear during these walks, barefoot, on soft grass. I wear a long black linen dress, that's it. The weather is nice, not too windy, not too hot or cold. It feels like walking behind my house (because I live in a friendly forest), not a journey to a destination. 

Book: Over-analyzing the Friction

I didn’t expect reading this book can turn into a reflection about myself, but friction often reveals more than comfort ever could. I didn't even want to talk about this book at the start.

This book made me uncomfortable in a way I didn’t expect. It felt like race was emphasized more than necessary, almost as if it was trying too hard. The lack of subtlety made it difficult for me to stay immersed in the story.

I also struggled with the excessive listing. There were too many details that didn’t feel essential to the core narrative. As I’ve mentioned before in this blog, I’m not good at processing information that feels unimportant to my brain. It becomes noise, and that noise distracted me from the emotional arc. That discomfort led to an interesting realization about my cognitive preferences. I’ve mentioned “noise” several times throughout this blog. Some writers use specificity as texture and listing as immersion. It is an intentional stylistic choice. For some readers, it works but for me, it doesn’t. It comes down to cognitive preference, so there is no right or wrong here.

I have almost zero tolerance for narrative noise. This explains why I dislike filler episodes and get bored with excessive details, especially names and numbers. With a designer’s brain, I appreciate clean, curated work. I value negative space. My brain prefer only what is necessary to move the story forward.

While I admire the richness and detail in Orhan Pamuk’s and Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s writing, I am also in awe of writers like Haruki Murakami or Kyung Sook Shin, who can express complex, weighty emotions with remarkable simplicity. Pamuk and Zafón create immersion through accumulation. Murakami and Sook Shin create depth through subtraction. On the surface, it looks simple, but we know it is not. Anyone can pile details but not everyone can remove them and still leave resonance. 

Maybe that is the contradiction I live with. I admire maximalism, but I move through the world as a minimalist. I respect the cathedral, but I build a quiet empty room for myself. And sometimes, a book is less about whether I love it or not, and more about self-discovery, observing our own thinking, about noticing the small frictions that reveal us to ourselves.

So every friction matters, take note on every annoyance, there's a lesson there. 

The book I'm referring to is Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. 

Note: I just finished the last few chapters in one sitting yesterday while waiting for berbuka. It broke me a little, until it came to the chapter in the game (it felt like a filler episode), it could be done much better. But let's not spiral into that. 

I stand by my point, it could be better without the excessive listing. But that was just me. 

Little Thing 331: Pottery Lesson

Last December, I took an unlimited pottery session.

One of the main lessons I learned was detachment. In pottery, you have to accept that you cannot fully control the outcome. Whether I throw once or fifty times, the piece can still fail. My skills can always improve. My expectations can still collapse.

Every stage of the process produces a different result. Imperfections can appear at any phase. I can spend hours shaping a piece, only for it to crack during firing in the kiln because I did not wedge it properly at the beginning. If I handle it too much, if it shifts off-center while throwing, if I add too much water or not enough, if I rush, or if I overwork the clay anything can go wrong. Everything matters.

Pottery teaches patience, repetition, and the humility to accept that you can create something and still walk away with nothing. In every session, I arrived, put music in my ears, wedged and threw, silently repeating the process. I walked home with cracked palms and an aching back, but it was therapeutic.

I did not want to bring anything home. I just wanted to enjoy the learning process, on repeat.

It had been a while since I allowed myself to be terrible at something. There were no stakes, no KPIs, no deliverables, no results, just a bad piece spinning on the wheel.

Note: So Azmi, this is to answer your question that weekend.

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It is a little like parenting, kan.

You try to shape them according to your standards, but every phase can unfold in ways you cannot control. And just like pottery, you learn to loosen your grip on the outcome. Sometimes the most loving thing is knowing when to stop shaping. In the end, the child becomes who they are becoming. 

Your role is not to manufacture the final form, but to guide the process and then accept the outcome. 

Little Stories 326: Impromptu Balik Kampung

I haven’t balik kampung in more than two years. I think the last time everyone saw me was after my dramatic hospital episodes, when I was still sickly. Then I went MIA for a while. My weight was more or less the same as it is now, but they were convinced I had gained weight and was “glowing.” And I get it. I remember. The last time I went back, I really did look unwell.

They mentioned that I look much better, now that my debilitating anxiety is manageable, almost miraculously invisible to society. Their last memory of me was after my episodes, which surprised me because it feels like a lifetime ago. That persona kind of stuck in their minds.

Azreen = sick = hospital.

Looking back, yes, it was dramatic. It was huge. It was life-changing. My whole life turned upside down while I was recovering, figuring things out, and deciding to change. It feels like another lifetime, but it all happened in less than five years. That phase was a turning point. Some parts of me did die that year. There is pre-2021 and post-2021.

Ma said I’m in a good place now, and I shouldn’t rock the boat. 

But boats are meant to move, kan. I can't stay stagnant forever. And I'm not trying to sink my boat, I'm trying to sail it. 

Little Thing 330: The Right Mix

Kadang-kadang I’m not sure how to do this parenting thing. Growing up, I was in quite a stressful environment where I didn’t really get to express myself. Looking back, I realize I learned to make myself small and invisible, too scared to create friction or drama. I developed this toxic habit of hiding in my cave.

So every time Sofi tests a boundary or tries to express herself, I find myself questioning what the right approach is. Do I limit her expression and create firm rules, or do I let her test things and learn through consequences? She’s at the age of trying out what she sees around her, experimenting with autonomy, learning how to express herself. With limited vocabulary and emotional awareness, rebellion can easily become her language.

And I remember, when I was growing up, I didn’t get the chance to be seen at all.

I wonder what the right mix is in shaping her personality, because every small influence wires her brain, at least during these formative years. But maybe the real work is not about controlling the mix. Maybe it’s about teaching her how to regulate her emotions, to name what she feels, and guiding her to process them. Hopefully, she will slowly grow into the best version of her own self. Kan. That’s something I only learned in my 30s, and I wish I had learned it sooner.

I don't know. 

She’s still at that age where she says, “Thank you, Mami. I love it.” 

And that warms my heart everytime, because I still struggle to express something that simple.

Little Thing 329: I'm Breathing Now

Last week, a lot happened. For one, I was asked to join my first networking event, maybe because I had avoided most events since I started working full-time again. So no excuse.

I was nervous, the kind of nervous with butterflies constantly in my stomach. The kind that made me cycle 70 km in a week just to manage it. The kind that made it hard to eat proper meals for several days, which then led to headaches. How annoying it is to be fully aware of my nervous system reacting like this and still not be able to chill, kan.

But I survived the networking event, with sweaty armpits and many moments of pretending to be busy. I survived submitting 15 drafts in 2 days, and 12 completed FA in 3 days as well as the interview meetings in-between. I survived the confrontations that really needed to happen. And I got the results for my big applications. I can come out from my cave now. I have no idea how I'm still functioning.

Last week was a marathon for my brain. My ChatGPT said I shouldn’t go to the gym anymore because I was “overstimulated” and that's why I don't feel hunger. What I needed was grounding, not more movement. Hah.

What I learned from the networking event is that I really don’t want to do networking. I thought I needed to socialize more to make my “presence” seen and maybe get more projects or something. But naw, I don’t like it. I don’t like going to events and talking about myself to strangers. I just want to do the work, sans the socializing :F I told S that I’d rather be in front of my laptop doing my work. Maybe the socializing part is just not meant for me. 

But next week, we have another session. This time I don't have to talk about myself to strangers, I just need to help around. So, it is not that bad. I'm breathing now, I've been holding my breath for awhile.

 

I'm breathing.

Books: Apparently January is My Reading Month

Lately on books: Yes, I've been reading a bit more than usual. 

I'll Be Right there - Kyung Sook Shin

This book made me feel small and sad in a very quiet way. It’s about grief, memory, and people who leave marks on your life even after they’re gone. Nothing is loud in this story, but everything hurts. It’s the kind of book that doesn’t break your heart all at once, it just slowly makes it heavier.

I've read her other books: Please Look After Mother & The Girl Who Wrote Loneliness 

Note: Everything she writes is sad and heavy with emotion.

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Notes to John & The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion -

Notes to John felt a bit too personal, almost like it should not have been published, like reading someone’s private diary. But seeing how she processed everything that happened in her life made me feel less alone. She talked the way I talk. She was honest in the same painfully honest way I know how.

Note: The Year of Magical Thinking was a reread.

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Card Captor Sakura by Clamp 1-6 

Yes, yes. I’m late. But we can finally read CCS locally. Kadokawa Gempak Starz finally decided to translate and publish the series after 30 years. Perfect. I’m collecting this and quietly achieving my childhood dream. Too YA for my age, but I can still enjoy the illustration. 

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Bury Our Bones in the Midnight by VESchwab 

No. I picked the wrong book, too YA for me. But I finished it because I was dedicated enough to finish a book I didn't enjoy. 

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Tuhan, Seindah Apa di Hujung Sana by Hafizul Faiz 

I really enjoy this kind of personal reflection on Qur’anic verses. The writing can feel a bit blog-gy at times, but I think that actually works, it makes it easier to digest and to take notes from. I like how he writes about why certain verses call out to him, the possible meanings of certain Arabic words used in the Qur’an, and how he weaves in his own reflections and experiences while learning and exploring.

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Currently on my reading library:

• Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow (Gabrielle Zevin) - just started on Kindle
• The Great Mental Models (Physics, Chemistry, and Biology) - This is really, really, really mentally stimulating. I love this so much. I honestly wish I had read something like this when I was in school. It explains the core concepts of scientific models and relates them to real-world events. Perfect for a conceptual thinker like me.
• Cuma Aku, Lukaku, dan Tuhanku (Hafizul Faiz) - Personal reflections on the 30 juzuk of the Qur’an.
• Tak Semua Seperti Yang Kusangka (A.Shafiq) - Bought a preloved copy. I’m curious to see how local writers are writing these days.
• The Idiot (Elif Batuman) - Why am I still reading this? I’m not sure. But I’m already 70% in and dragging my feet to the finish line.

It’s a bit all over the place, kan. A chaotic mix of emotions, hardcore thinking, spiritual reflection, local curiosity, and just reading for the vibes but I think I'm on a good start.

Happy 2026 reading year!