Blog

Not angry.

Not even okay.

Just… numb.

Last week, something happened. Small to the world, maybe. But not to me — because it came from someone who means something.

And here’s the thing: for them, one word — “sorry” — makes it all okay. Just like that. Wrapped up. Forgotten. Done.

But for me? It didn’t vanish. It didn’t fade. It froze me.

No tears. No shouting. Just silence. A flatline.

That’s what numb feels like. Not explosive, not dramatic. Just a quiet...

Our instinct is often to fix it immediately. We rush to explain ourselves, defend our position, or control the outcome. But just like muddy water, the harder we stir, the cloudier it gets.

Sometimes the wisest thing we can do is—nothing.

When we...

These are the ones who send a simple “How are you?” when the world feels heavy. The ones who notice your silence before anyone else. The ones who remind you that you’re not alone, not...

the “mute” button would be worn out by now.

Overthinking has a way of sneaking in like an uninvited guest—

turning small thoughts into storms,

and quiet moments into endless debates with myself.

I replay conversations,

analyse every detail,

and imagine dozens of “what ifs” that may never happen.

It’s exhausting—like living in a movie where I’m both the actor and the overcritical director.

But here’s what I’ve been learning:

...

I thought I had adapted, adjusted, and found my footing.

I thought I had built enough resilience to weather anything that came my way.

Then, one day, life shifted again—sharper, deeper, more unexpectedly than before.

And in that moment, I realised: you never truly get used to change.

Change doesn’t send invitations.

It doesn’t knock politely.

It barges in, rearranges your world, and dares you to...

Life has a way of shifting our perspective. I used to get caught up in the little things—how I looked, what others thought, chasing perfection. But after going through something life-altering, everything changed. The things I once obsessed over no longer seem important. When you realize how easily everything can be ripped away, you see what truly matters.

A life-changing event, like a stroke, teaches...

Today, Singapore turns 60! It’s a day that feels incredibly special to me. As Singapore celebrates its journey of growth, unity, and resilience, I reflect on my own path. I had the privilege of joining the Singapore National Stroke Association (SNSA) to celebrate, and it was an event full of joy, pride, and community spirit.

We kicked things off by singing the...

So I met a new friend. Let’s call him Dr. Isaac—the kind of guy who helps you row your first dragon boat and then rows straight into your heart with foodie talk. Naturally, we bonded over food!
One fine day, he drops me a message:
“Free on Monday.”
Me: Monday?? Who even does parties on a Monday? My social calendar only recognises Friday to Sunday for house gatherings!
But wait—he’s bringing the friend I’d heard so much...

The morning was packed with fun and feels. We played a nostalgic game of Bingo that had us time-traveling through Singapore’s rich history—think iconic foods, buildings, famous faces, unforgettable events, and National Day songs that...

Not to worry anyone. Not to punish. Not even to be dramatic.

I just… disappear.

There are days when the noise outside gets too loud and the noise inside my head is louder. Days when words don’t come easy—when explaining is more exhausting than staying silent. So I slip away. Quietly. Like a tide pulling back from the shore.

Some people call it isolation. I call it survival.

After my stroke, disappearing became less of a...

There’s something strangely comforting about a cup of black coffee. No sugar. No cream. Just raw, honest bitterness in a warm mug. And yet, for all its intensity, many of us love it precisely because it doesn't pretend to be anything else.

That simple image and quote—"You don't have to be sweet to be liked by everyone"—hit me hard.

For much of my life, I believed I had to be agreeable, pleasant, always smiling, always saying “yes.” I was afraid that showing...

I was scrolling through Bob’s Facebook when I came across four beautiful ceramic pieces adorned with Junle’s calligraphy. The blend of earthy craftsmanship and quiet, powerful strokes instantly drew me in. I just wanted to bring them all home.

But in the end, I chose two that spoke to me the most—pieces that reflect parts of myself still healing, still learning, still growing:

事缓则圆，人缓则安

...

Perfection used to be my silent goal.

Before my stroke, I strived to always get things right—my words, my work, my world. I thought strength came from control, from polish, from doing everything just right.

But life had other plans.

After the stroke, perfection vanished. Suddenly, I had to relearn the basics. I stumbled over words. I forgot names. I got frustrated with things I once did with ease. My rhythm changed. My pace slowed....

But there was one constant.

One person who stayed through it all.

Quietly. Faithfully. Without needing thanks or...

There I was—lying on a mat in the middle of nature, clutching a bowl of vegetables like it was a bowl of gold. A fork in one hand, a mouthful mid-air, and the breeze brushing against my face. No fancy cutlery. No five-star restaurant. Just me, the mountains, a forkful of greens… and peace.

And you know what?

It was perfect.

This photo might not win any photography awards. My hair’s wild, the bowl’s metal, and the mat has definitely seen better days. But this...

Seriously. I may not be able to read the back of a cereal box without stretching my arm like Mr. Fantastic, but I can sniff out fake vibes from across the room.

In my younger days, I believed people. Smiles meant sincerity. Big talk meant big hearts. Titles meant wisdom. I was practically a walking “Benefit of the Doubt.”

Now? Not so much. I've upgraded —...

After my stroke, the world didn’t just change—it distorted.

Words I once had at my fingertips suddenly vanished.

Thoughts became trapped behind walls I couldn’t break down.

I had so much to say… but I couldn’t get the words out.

I live with aphasia now. It’s not just about struggling to speak—it’s about the anxiety, the fear of not being understood, the sadness of being left out of conversations I used to lead.

And then there’s this:

Even the people closest...

This Saturday, I geared up for my second dragon boat practice. That is right — Round Two. But nothing could quite prepare us for what felt like paddling in a sauna. Singapore’s sun was on full blast, and I believe I sweated more before getting into the boat than during the actual practice. With an all-star lineup: Maya Lightchaser, Melvin Lemon Beery, Dawn Poh, Rick, my Queen ...

Yesterday, I went for a check-up with Dr Moses. He walked in, looked at me, squinted a little… and then said the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard in my entire life:
“You look different. Did you lose weight?”
I could’ve cried on the spot. I wanted to frame that moment. Bottle it. Autotune it and make it my ringtone.
And then I said, “Yes, Doc… 3 kilograms.”
(That’s three. solid. kilos.)
Before I even saw him, I went...