“Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.” – Anne Lamott


Ironically, you can know a lot more about me from the words I don’t write, the pictures I take, the quotes I like, the things I laugh at, the shows and movies I watch, the books I read, the people I talk to, the things I fight for, the things I cry about.

My words are useless. They are just attempts of expressing myself but I was not born to be a writer nor was I born to be a renowned artist. I was born pretty mediocre but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I was born for a purpose, even the smallest and redundant of objects have their purpose. I believe that enough about myself.


I’ve made my bed, now I have to lie in it.

I keep trying to justify why choosing to put my loved ones over myself is not necessarily a bad thing and I don’t think it is, but I cannot help but feel envious of others who have more bandwidth in their day to do what they want to do – whether it is to improve their physique, their skill, learn new things, make new friends etc.

All my life, I’ve always been someone to consider the feelings of my loved ones so much so that when I acted on my selfish thoughts, I feel guilt instantly. Special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, New Year’s meant time with my loved ones. I’ve always made it a point to tell school mates that I will not be available on these dates. Either that or I’d purposely get my stuff done before or after these dates. I think I’ve been told that it’s rather annoying of me to keep doing that but I can’t help but to prioritise my loved ones over work.

I know not everyone makes those decisions and their decisions are not wrong but I am exhausted because I feel like someone has to be the one holding the fort. If no one is home to take care of things and do daily maintenance then there will be no home to come home to. Because I am the homemaker, I usually never have the time to chase after my own dreams or the things that excite me. I’m not saying that to ask for pity or compassion. I’m merely saying I’ve made my bed, now I have to lie in it, but it doesn’t mean I don’t get sick of it from time to time.

Right now, all I wish I could do is get my solo trip ticked off my bucket list. I’ve been feeling too jaded about almost everything, I just need a long break from all my responsibilities.

Maybe this is training me for the day I become a supermum with the way I’m juggling work and other responsibilities. I just hope I don’t lose myself in the process that I forget to take care of myself as well.


Dealing with my anxiety

The other day, Chels, Daniel, Marion and myself were walking back home from Sunplaza after getting Boost for dinner. There was nothing significant about it but there was laughter. I’m not talking about those laugh-until-your-belly-aches laughter. It was just a few laughs. And I couldn’t help but to pause and appreciate that moment for awhile. To laugh is one of the best feelings in the world, so to even laugh at all no matter how great or small the laughter is, is something I appreciated a lot there and then.

The world is so messed up. Sometimes when I think about the greater scheme of things, I start feeling very anxious. Meeting new people is hard. Introducing myself is uncomfortable and awkward. Being friendly with people is hard especially when they can’t stand you already. Being professional when I want to give it to someone demands my patience. Staying in a place that don’t align with my values completely is draining. And so, what this small, insignificant moment of laughter was to me, was anything but meaningless. It reminded me that there’s always a glimmer of hope. There is a time to breathe and relax. There is time to laugh and to smile. One day at a time, Cris.

Sometimes I feel too many emotions that it becomes so overwhelming that it almost feels like I’m drowning. All I really want to do in times like that is to distract myself with a good film, TV series or a book, or to just sleep. The problem is whenever I am at work and these emotions start drowning me, I feel all the anxiety creeping in and if I don’t fight that, I will literally have a meltdown.

I don’t know why I’m so emotional. I am better though comparing how I used to be. But I am still such an emotional person. I feel too much. I think too much. It’s not necessarily pessimistic, I just feel too much.

All I can do is just breathe. Allow myself to feel the emotions, the fear of not coping with them – take them all in inhale and calm myself down exhale. You know, if I really think about it, everything is really all in the head. Why do I let the stress control me? If it’s pertaining to my job, it’s really because I feel responsibile for things and I fear letting the team down. If it’s pertaining to life in general, I fear I will never be good enough for anything. I don’t like being disliked but yet I understand I am not everyone’s cup of tea. Of course, the feeling of being disliked whether it’s for a reason or without, is not something pleasant to feel.

I wish I was a more confident person. But I am human, and no matter how strong I can ever be, there will always be a weakness and this is mine – I care too much and sometimes, I don’t know how to let things go or to let things be. Perhaps some day, I will understand what to do with all these emotions. Is it wrong to believe that maybe feeling too much isn’t necessarily a bad thing, that it can be a strength? I want to believe I’m meant for more.