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本地作家、中风康复者者汪文宝（Terence Ang）将在10月25日迈开步伐，参加“Stepping Out For Stroke 2025”慈善快步走筹款活动，以支持新加坡全国预防中风协会（Singapore National Stroke Association）。
今年的“Stepping Out For Stroke”迎来第10周年，象征着“没有人应该独自走路”的信念。汪文宝将首次踏上3km步行之旅，这不仅是一次体能挑战，更是他勇敢跨出的重要一步。他也会发起“Every Step Counts: A Thunderstroke”筹款活动， 以支持新加坡全国预防中风协会。
汪文宝发起的筹款活动已通过Giving.sg平台启动，号召公众在步行活动前积极响应。所筹得的善款将由新加坡赛马博彩管理局（Tote Board）一比一配对，使捐款效益加倍。款项将用于支持全国预防中风协会的免费项目，包括运动与语言治疗、照护者培训、心理健康辅导以及上门探访服务，帮助中风幸存者与家庭重建生活。
作为感谢，...
On 25 August 2020, Terence Ang’s life changed in an instant. A haemorrhagic stroke left him with aphasia, robbing him of his ability to speak or comprehend language. Once articulate, confident, and expressive, Terence suddenly found himself unable to do what he had always taken for granted — communicate.
But even in the silence, he was not alone. His sister Angela,...
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...
Not all fairytales begin with “once upon a time.”
Some begin in the middle of chaos.
Some start with a diagnosis.
Some are buried under heartbreak, setbacks, or silence.
But just because your story didn’t start like a dream doesn’t mean it can’t end like one.
I used to think fairytales were only for other people—the ones untouched by pain, those who seemed to walk through life with ease and perfect timing. But life taught me...
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 —...