The sound came from the baby monitor as I sat eating corn chips up in our office while watching Silo season 3 on my computer.

Baby’s awake. Time was 10.50pm.

I quickly washed my hands and rushed down the stairs. As I opened the door of my bedroom and the cold air from our air-conditioning enveloped me instantly.

I had forgotten to adjust the air conditioning I had put baby down that night, and the room was too cold for comfort.

‘Arrhhhh!’

Went my baby again as he writhed around in his sleep swaddle, trying to roll in his semi awake state.

I slid down next to him, and as he nursed I smelled his head, and kissed his sleepy forehead.

In the dark cold room, there was another sound other than the hum of our air conditioning compressor and the soft breaths coming from my almost 5 month old.

“Chirp… chirp… chirp…”

It was the very clear, loud and distinct sounds of the crickets outside our room, in the damp grass on the grounds next to our window.

And it brought to mind a memory of an event over a decade ago, before I had my kids, and when I was also laying in the same bed but only with my husband, late at night.

In the year 2015, about 3 years after we were married, I had been taking daily hormone pills as part of my regiment to treat my migraines.

A bit of backstory on this, I started getting migraines when I was 16 years old, and they were so bad that each episode of it would cause nausea, vomiting and a severe pounding headache that could only be cured with a long sleep or with strong pain medications. 

Since the episodes back then were occurring every month, I had decided to seek a treatment plan to manage or hopefully, permanently cure me from my migraines.

Unfortunately some of the daily medications I took as part of the treatment eventually caused me to become depressed, lethargic and made me couldn’t sleep at night. 

It came to the point that the insomnia was so bad that I had to take anti-depressants to calm myself down enough to fall asleep.

It was a rough time in my life, and I even almost quit my engineering job back then as I couldn’t function at work. My poor husband was my caregiver, being with me as I took medical leave on some days to rest at home upon the advise of our company doctor as I tried to work through my emotions and depression.

On one of those nights, I was again staring at the fan above our bed, and I knew time had passed but I couldn’t fall asleep. I think it had rained earlier that day, and the sound of crickets outside was overwhelming to me as my mind focused on everything else except sleep. 

An hour or two passed, and then I turned to my sleeping husband, and woke him. It must have been 12 to 1am at night.

“I can’t fall asleep. The sound of the crickets are too loud for me” I said.

My sleepy husband got up, and went out of our room.

The next thing I heard, was the sound of an aerosol can being used outside, and then I knew he was using our insecticide on the crickets.

‘Pssssst … pssssssttt’.

It went on for a few minutes.

Though depressed, I felt surprised, partly horrified, and mostly grateful, that he was wiling to go to that extent of combating the poor crickets so that me, and him, can go to sleep.

The noise from the crickets eventually stopped. I felt bad for them.

My husband came back in, and I tried to sleep. I think it had helped.

My depression went on for another 3 weeks, and then it eventually tapered down and went away after I finally stopped taking my daily dose of Sibelium and Fluvoxamine pills, which apparently had also affected my serotonin levels thus causing insomnia.

Back to present day, after my baby had fallen back to sleep, I went out of our bedroom, found my husband in the kitchen and I hugged and kissed him. He was surprised but welcomed it.

“Dear, I remember the crickets from before we had kids, it was late at night and they were loud like now too”

My husband then turn to me, smirked and and said “Ahh, then you can remember what I did to them”

I am thankful that I had overcome that difficult period of my life, and I am very thankful for my husband, who had supported me through it. Unfortunately some poor crickets were harmed during this stint.

But whenever I hear crickets now, I am reminded of my husband’s love and care. Till today, I enjoy listening to the sounds of crickets outside when its late at night.

After years of contemplation whether we should have another child, and nearly 2 years of trying and also suffering two miscarriages during that time, we finally welcomed our baby boy on 12th February of 2026.

It was quite a journey, and I will detail what happened and what I did after to finally welcoming our child in a separate post.

Not going to lie but I had thought to myself, since I had 3 little ones prior, that this 4th round will be easier since we were ‘experienced’ parents and I was a mature mother by now. Sure it was 6 years ago since my last child, but things should still follow the similar path, right?

Be it regarding the two big B’s, the birth and breastfeeding.

Well, I was wrong.

Not all babies are the same, and certainly there are variables to each birth, and boy did this one tested me.

To make it easier to understand, I will list and categorize out the challenges I faced from the birth to postpartum and how we managed each one. At the point of this writing it is past 5 weeks post partum and thankfully most of the issues faced are resolved.

This birth and postpartum was in fact more difficult and had more complications than my second and third birth, and possibly even my first.

Here’s what happened, arranged in order of both severity and timeline.

1. Epidural resulting in debilitating post dura puncture headaches

For my first three births I had avoided using the epidural due to my fear for potential side effects, and in my first two births I had requested for an epi mid birth after I was in active labour and over 6-8cm cervix dilation and I would be rejected due to how far along I was already.

Other than my first birth which was traumatic, thankfully my second and third births went really fast and though painful, it ended quickly.

So for my fourth and last birth, I decided to give it a try, and hoped to have relief from labour pains for once in my birthing experience.

And so it went that my one and only experience with an epidural went badly and developed complications from a punctured dura by the anesthesiologist causing cranial fluid leakage.

It was bad, and I developed nausea, dizziness, and a terrible headache after I gave birth due to it. They called it the post dura puncture headache and the anesthesiologist was straight forward about what had happened during the epidural procedure.

The small chances of this complication unfortunately occured in my birth, and I had signed the paperwork prior to it that waived the doctor and hospital of the complication.

What’s more, I couldnt feel the pressure of baby descending and even at 10cm, I couldn’t feel anything and couldnt push him out. In the end after almost an hour of pushing, the doctor had to proceed with vacuum assistance to pull him out.

My baby boy was sunny side up and his had the shape of cone due to the vacuum suction.

And since I had assisted vacuum extraction I had a episiotomy and a more substantial one.

But the worst part was when I had to sit up, the room started to spin around and a painful headache hit me.

I threw up in the labour and delivery room, and had to lie down instead of being able to see my baby in the nursery.

Then after I was wheeled to my room, I tried to eat some dinner, hoping the feeling will pass and at the same time feeling really confused at my symptoms, and I threw up the fried chicken I had.

I then got to see my baby for awhile and started my first breastfeeding direct latch on him, which was the only main highlight of my night.

It went downhill again after that.

I requested for more pain medications and the nurses contacted my aneasthesiologist, and after that I threw up the third time.

By then the head nurse intervened and said that baby will be formula fed and taken care of while I recovered for a few hours.

I slept from 11pm till 4am and then felt better with the new medication from my doctor via drip, but the following days after I was discharged the pressure from the leak came back and the next 7 days was really rough.

This issue had impacted my breastfeeding as it inadvertently affected the method and my direct latch with baby in those early days causing the next issue I had.

The condition lasted 7 days, and resolved after that, but during that period I could hardly sit and stand and relief only came when lying down and having the cranial fluid pressure normalized.

In short, I was disappointed at how the birth went though I was happy to bring a healthy baby boy home from the hospital.

2. Painful cracked and bleeding nipples from baby’s improper latch during early breastfeeding.

You would think after having breastfed three of my older children, that my fourth would be muscle memory by now. I thought so too, but I was wrong.

After birth I couldn’t immediately breastfeed my baby due to the post dura headaches and vomiting, so it was only the morning after that I could hold him and direct latch at the breast, when I felt well enough to sit up.

It may have been a combination of overconfidence and his anatomy, but although his suction was good, I failed to recognize that the latch was not deep enough.

He was born 38 weeks and a few days, and his mouth was small though his birth weight was good at 3.35 kilograms.

After discharging the next day I continued direct latching my baby frequently, and at hours at a time.

It was 2 to 3 days later that the pain came, the soreness, cracked nipples and bleeding. It was excruciating pain during the feeds.

It was so bad that I developed a fear of latching him when it was time for his feeds, but i persevered on, and we also included syringe feeding to ensure he was getting enough breastmilk.

I pumped to stimulate breastfeeding and to get some amoount for syringe feeds, and that too re-opened my cracked nipples and on occasion the milk had blood in it.

I worked on correcting the latch ( deep latch) the next few days, turning to online resources, YouTube, ChatGPT, but the damage once done and if you know newborns , they ate frequently at evety 1,2 to 3 hours at most. This was on demand feeding and due to that my nipples couldn’t heal before the next feed.

I bought 3 tubes of lanolin cream and applied generously , with breasmilk, after every feed.

At every feed I had to work on his latch and positioning, causing delay in feedings so we had to endure his cries every time I waited for his mouth to open wide to get an actual good latch.

Many times, his rooting reflex would not be able to produce a wide enough mouth so I had to wait till he had a full on cry before I rammed his mouth onto my already painful nipples, and then braced myself when the pain ensued for the first few suckles. This was my first 2 weeks of breastfeeding. Since the wound reopened after each latch on one of my breast I had change the breastfeeding hold from my standard cross cradle hold and instead fed him using the football hold to have another angle of his mouth onto my nipple. That too took some learning curve from us both and I utilized it on my right side breast every feed for almost 2 weeks.

Bottle feeding was avoided to prevent nipple confusion as I wanted to direct feed my baby due to convenience. I only introduced it near to the 2 week mark and it was a big relief that he accepted the bottle, with paced slower feeding as we were still cautious to prevent nipple confusion.

This all happened while still recovering from the post dura migraines and lack of sleep, and my episiotomy wound.

This was a very difficult time, and I had cried over it a number of times feeling both guilt that I couldn’t give him my all and that his weight was not increasing fast enough.

I even considered exclusive pumping as an option but I wanted to have the bond of direct latching him, plus it made no sense to only exclusive pump my right side breast while direct latching my left which fared better after the first week after birth, and healed faster than the other ( both my nipples were shaped differently, hence the difference in outcomes).

Eventually the direct feeding issues resolved, I remembered the turning point was when I noticed tehre was no blood or peeled off skin on my disposable breast pads, first on my left side, and eventaully my right side breast pads came out clean at the end of the day during my baths. That was when I neared my 3 weeks postpartum mark.

It was quite the journey, a painful one.

That brings us to point 3.

3. Slower weight gain

He is now a chunky breastfed boy at 7 weeks. But in his first 2 week, weight gain was slow, he dropped down from 3.35kg to 3.2kg before regaining. It was still within the acceptable range for weight loss less than 5-10% for newborns but still, comparing with my other babies who were also breastfed they loss very little weight and regained their birth weight fast, typically within the first 3-5 days.

But for my fourth baby, due to breastfeeding pain and my migraines, he only regained his birth weight at day 10 post birth, and then only started gaining more steadily.

It may not sound so bad all things considered, but there was another reason I was stressed about his weight gain, and here is the next issue.

4. Baby’s prolonged jaundice

His blood type was O positive, which had a higher risk factor for newborn jaundice. Plus with his bruising from his vacuum assisted birth on the top of his head, the excess blood contributed to his increased jaundice levels as well.

On day 3, he had some yellowing of the skin and the blood test confirmed it. I had experienced jaundice with my previous three children, and the way to bring down the levels faster was to feed baby more to flush out the bilirubin (other than phototherapy if the levels are too high for baby based on the number of days post birth).

With mt fear of direct breastfeeding and feeding baby due to the nipple trauma and breastfeeding issues, I was experiencing, I couldn’t freely feed my baby boy as frequently as I did with my earlier three children. I was timing his feeds about 2 hourly and sometimes 3 hourly, instead of aggressively offering him the breast to get him to gain more weight and pee/poop out more of his bilirubin.

It didnt help that his jaundice was prolonged and went up and down, even after 2 – 3 weeks. It required daily blood test and poor baby had to get his blood drain every time we went in to see the doctor, and the same comment on his weight would come ‘ Baby needs to gain more weight, please feed him more’.

So I had stressed myself over me not being able to give him milk to support both his weight gain and to clear his jaundice at a faster rate. Mummy guilt ate at me while I contended with the physical pain of feeding him, at that time in the first 3 weeks of baby.

Thankfully it never went high enough to be a risk to baby’s brain. By week 3 it seemed it was on its way to resolving and by 1 month the doctor’s stopped ordering blood test to check his levels.

How are we now.

To date baby is seven and a half weeks old at the time of this writing.

All issues above have been resolved, in sequence of above four challenges listed.

He is now fully breastfed without pain on my part, he has grown and has become more efficient in breastfeeding and extracting milk from me. He takes both breast and bottle (once a day) and a pacifier without any nipple confusion. He has also cleared his jaundice, and is developing well and meeting his milestones. The one which warmed my heart the most was his smiles, which came at week 6 exactly and I get a feel of my little one’s personality better.

I am healed from my post dura puncture headaches / migraines, and also healed from my breastfeeding injuries. My supply is bordering on the oversupply side, and I have stored about 2 weeks of frozen breastmilk for him and still building up the stash which will be used when I am back at work.

So it has a good outcomes now, but mind you when I was in the thick of it it was a really difficult journey and may prayers were said in that time as well.

I do hope sharing this will help some mothers, be it your first baby of like me, not your first but you still struggled. Some things takes time to get better and as long as we keep trying , enduring and improving, things do resolve, at least those that I’ve mentioned above.

You also need a good supportive family to stand by you if you have to go through these events and for me I had my husband who was there with me all the way.

And this post is also a reminder to myself, to not give up and keep looking ahead at the long term goals, and problem solve these issues where possible, when challenges come my way.

https://medium.com/a-parent-is-born/overcoming-my-grief-of-pregnancy-loss-my-one-week-experience-following-my-miscarriage-4678f7d00071

We often think of assets as a material object, a resource of economic value, be it cash, property, a skillset, or intellectual capability that can be harnessed for more gain. 

I could say it was my university degree which gave me a stepping stone into decent work employment, or my first home, a house which was purchased at a lower cost back then and has since doubled in value today.

But I also think of an asset can be a person.

And by far the most valuable asset I have received in the last two decades of my life is my husband.

Without whom I do not think I may be the person I am today, and to whom I need to thank for my personal growth.

And fortunately, he relays the same message back to me as well. I guess we had helped each other become better through our years of partnership.

We had met in university and had our share of ups and downs during our relationship, but we made it through thanks to our solid connection, though we were quite different in our personalities. Being together felt easy, and it was like being with my best friend who was also my partner.

But when I am with him, I felt safe , I had more stability, and a feeling that someone has my back. I loved that extra security he brought to my life, and yes, I know some people advise that you need to be stable by yourself before you look for love, but for me this was not the way it happened.

My grades improved after we were together, and so did my confidence and then my determination to do better. In fact we told each other that our relationship should push both of us to grow individually, and it did.

It fit, too smoothly, and over the years we were together, it further solidified our commitment even more. We had no doubts about marriage, but his proposal still took me by surprise when it happened.

We married when I was 25, and he was 26.

Of course, we had our friction and quarrels, after marriage and even more after children, but we worked through them and will continue to do so.

I still feel the same sense of security, safety, and trust when I am with him. We are equal partners in our marriage, be it finances, decision making and in matters related to the kids and our jobs. We counsel, we discuss, and we make decisions together.

We walk side by side, and it doesn’t make me feel any less of being with him.

And that is something coming from a girl who used to suffer from many insecurities, body dysmorphia, and used to look for approval from others, and having it linked it to my self-esteem, being not confident in myself in my earlier years.

Till today, we value each other’s opinions and make joint decisions about our finances, our children, and our household.

So what to take away from my words?

Who you choose as a life partner matters a lot, and its impact on you and your future children will last a lifetime.

Take the time to get to know your partner while you are dating, and assess the way both of you handle disagreements and whether you share similar values, be it at present and the hypothetical future decisions. Career, city to live in, family, children, and money matters. And if hr or she makes you feel at ease when they are around you.

Make no mistake, this decision matters and should not be rushed.

Hope this gives some insight to those of you who are currently dating and are in relationships.

I walked down a flight of stairs hurriedly after a somewhat difficult work day from my 2nd-floor office to the ground floor. I usually take the stairs instead of the lift as it helps me process my thoughts better, and to be honest, also to avoid small talk with people I meet who work in the same building.

I had no issue with them, but being an introvert and one who can leak out my awkwardness and unfiltered honesty when I unconciously deactivated my work mode, well, it can be a little uncomfortable. Anyway, I had started to care less over the years, but that’s another story altogether.

Anyway I was feeling a little heavier that day as I mindlessly relied on the automated movements of my legs going down the stairs while I thought about the work topics that had arisen.

My hand slipped into my left pocket, and I felt two unfamiliar items.

One was a wrapped candy, something like those you view in Candy Crush app.

Another was a twenty-cent coin.

I then recalled the night before, my 6-year-old daughter was going through her little cylindrical coin box, and took out some money. She gave me twenty cents from her stash, told me she wanted me to have some of her money since all her money came from us, her parents. She said I can use it when needed.

My 8-year-old son later on gave me a candy he had gotten from school, and he had a few of them and shared one with me.

As it was a weekday night after work, I had accepted both tokens from my kids and slipped them into my pocket. It was about 8 pm, and I was still dressed in my work clothes and had yet to shower, usually rushing to prepare the kids for the next school day and bedtime before I took care of myself. This was routine for both my husband and me.

So I had hung up my workpants and showered, and worn them back the next day without taking those two items out.

And that day, as I reached in and found both ‘gifts’ from my kids, my heart warmed and I was reminded that my work was not all there was and that I had other things in life to care for, my family and kids. More important, permanent things other than my work.

It helped me compartmentalize my thoughts, and I decided to problem-solve the work issues on the side while I thought about going home for the day to my loved ones. My shoulders felt a little lighter by the time I walked out of the office building.

Work needs attention, yes, but they did not overwhelm me as much that day.

That night I went home, loved on my kids before bedtime, and thanked them again for the little items they had given me the day before.

We all need small reminders throughout the day, week or seasons in our life, on what our priorities are, and what we hold most dear.

Little did they know, but my kids’ small acts of love that week helped their mother mentally and gave her a little boost of energy and love.

Sunday nights tend to be the busiest and hardest nights of the week for our family. It marks the start of the school and work week, and we usually have a home-cooked meal and then prepare the children for school, which includes their uniforms, homework, and school bags.

On top of that, we, too, needed to get ourselves mentally ready for another busy week ahead.

So I braced myself for a busy and potentially stressful evening with the children, without support from my husband.

I would be managing the children by myself that night.

Starting with dinner, I prepared chicken rice and added eggs and some leftover fried chicken from our lunch at McDonald’s that day. I couldn’t cook much as we had run out of cooking gas, and had to make do with the electric pressure cooker pot.

We sat down for dinner, and the kids were their rowdy selves, energetic and chatty. They took a while to settle down, and I sat between the two youngest while my son was seated across from me.

After saying our grace, I reminded them that their father was not home that night so I needed their help to ‘behave’ and to listen to their mum.

Because they outnumbered me three to one.

In hindsight, at that point I was already a little winded from rushing dinner and getting everyone to the table to sit, I may have sounded somewhat a cross between tired and bordering on annoyance at their lack of focus on their meals.

Interestingly, they seemed to understand what I said to them.

As dinner progressed they ate relatively well and placed their dishes into the sink after their meals. Sure, there were crumbs under the table and on the seat covers, but that could wait. I was on a schedule to get them to bed on time.

I hastily ordered them to bathe and brush their teeth before bedtime, leaving the unwashed dishes in the sink and the dining area uncleaned.

My 8-year-old boy was independent enough to perform these actions himself in a separate bathroom, so I focused on my younger girls instead. I took down the shampoo and body soap to a level the girls can reach, and to my surprise, my 6-year-old voiced out that she would bathe herself, so I let her. Meanwhile, I proceeded to help my 4-year-old brush her teeth for a second time, as she insisted on doing the first time herself too.

I was about to leave my girls in the bathroom to finish up their bath to help their brother with his school bag preparation. I made it a point every Sunday to check that his books were packed correctly for the school subjects in his schedule and that his pencils and stationaries were in order.

But I found out that he had taken care of it himself.

My eldest had also packed his daycare bag as well as his school bag, and had even sharpened his pencils by himself while I was with the girls.

He then wheeled his school bag to my bedroom where I was, passed me his school schedule, showed me he had packed according to all his subjects and his homework that was due tomorrow. I checked his sharpened pencils, and his wallet for money. After I gave my approval, he wheeled the bag to the front door, and also placed his filled water bottle inside it.

As I returned to my girls I found that my 6-year-old had dried herself and had taken out her own clothes from her closet to dress herself. Sure, she didn’t use the correct pajamas, she had taken a pair of shorts and a shirt that were clearly not suitable for sleeping in, but I let it slide. I towel-dried my 4 year old and then she too then wanted follow her sister, so I let her.

Not only that, I had asked my boy to help me vacuum the dining room, and he did without complaint, he took our Tineco vacuum out, and then proceeded to vacuum the crumbs off from the floor, as best as he could.

By 9 pm they were all in my son’s room, for a short storytime and then nighttime prayers. They asked about their father and I said he would be back later. I let my son send a voice message to him as he missed his dad. Then I took the girls back to their own room, tucked them in, did a whole routine of kissing and blanket flipping for them, and then I said good night too.

As I closed their room doors, I thought to myself at how much more independent and responsible they had been that night when their mother was alone.

As I washed the dishes, cleaned the tables, and took out the trash, I felt a sense of pride and joy at how they were that night.

They were more capable and empathetic than what I usually thought them to be.

I realized then that for many years, I always thought of them as babies, young kids that depended highly on me and my husband, and they required high amounts of patience, and energy from us to keep things in order, or anything from burning down.

But I hadn’t realized that they were growing up, and are growing still.

They were not the babies I kept thinking they were, though young as they are now.

I dare say, they were becoming like companions to me now, people who I can relate to, and make jokes and have chats with.

And that made me glad, and even a little less lonely, on night when my husband may be away.

I cherished this thought of them, and I love them so much, and I prayed that they would continue growing up well.

I knew why I didn’t, and I knew then too that I was still grieving.

On it, I had circled out dates, and milestones, for my pregnancy before it ended.

And looking at it reminded me of what I lost.

Dates moving onwards now saddens me, although with time, I was supposed to be better.

And I was, better.

It has been 3 weeks.

I’ve made progress, I went back to work, I taught, I went out, I felt joy, and I functioned.

And though I’ve had other health issues to contend with, I still progressed.

But I still think about it every day.

And small memories still trigger me back to remembering what I could have had.

Memories of seeing the heartbeat, and then later the memory of seeing it when there was no more.

Today the calendar triggered my memory.

So I knew, I had not gotten over it.

And at this point, I don’t know when I will.

The doctor asked me as he looked at me intently. I had gone to see him about the migraines I had been having.

He was the second doctor who had asked me this question.

At this point in my life, deep inside I knew I had been having some level of anxiety issues for the past 20 years, but I never outright talked about it to anyone, other than to my husband.

It became more noticeable about 8 years ago, when I suffered from an episode of depression, my very first.

The depression was induced after I underwent a round of migraine prevention treatment which included taking a mix of medications that were specifically meant to increase my serotonin levels, and another to prevent migraines or the severity of them. The drugs had stated that it had a potential side effect of causing depression, but we thought I wouldn’t be affected. About 10% of the population who had taken these medications reportedly experienced it, and unfortunately, I was one of them.

After 4 weeks of being on these medications, I felt it, the anxiety, the weariness, the insomnia, the loss of motivation, and all interest in the things that I enjoyed before. Even my period stopped, although my cycles had always been regular before. Long story short, I stopped all medications and eventually, I was myself again in a few weeks.

I had learned my lesson from that experience and made up my mind not to take any new drugs without prior research of my own.

But I did wonder if I had a higher predisposition to have depression compared to others, due to my undiagnosed anxiety, or maybe how my brain was wired that caused the anxiety in the first place.

When these doctors asked me the same question, the thought crossed my mind again.

Do I have anxiety?

I looked back in time in the past decade of my life for some reflection to answer this question.

When I was 28, I had to take a business trip to Korea, which required a 6-hour flight at midnight. Never had I ever flown that far before nor had I ever been that far from home.

Before I left I researched the flight history of Korean Airways, how many aircraft accidents it had, and its safety records.

When I was trying to conceive my second child, I had major fears due to news of pregnancy abnormalities during the Zika virus incidents in Brazil and its link to causing microcephaly in babies. The doctor had to convince me that I had a higher chance of getting into a car accident than to have a baby affected by Zika in our part of the world.

Last year when my kids, my husband, and I got COVID-19, I read up on all the potential long-term effects of covid that I could online and periodically checked on my kids for any symptoms presenting. I was also feeling guilty at myself for somehow allowing my kids to get infected due to me being at work. I only cooled off on checking in on them after months had passed, and they had presented no long-term symptoms.

Not to mention that whenever my kids got a fever when they were younger, my mind would usually assume the worst.

“Could it be meningitis?” I thought to myself and checked them for the purplish pin-sized rashes. I even questioned their doctors on whether this may be a potential cause for their fevers.

So do I have anxiety?

It would be a yes, in my opinion.

It may not be severe, at least I don’t think it was, but I do have some degree of anxiety.

But I had my ways of functioning through it, and I did, from my teenage years up to now.

Over time, I learned how to ease off these ‘episodes’ and manage myself.

Acknowledging this helps me deal with it, and I believe I have made progress in reducing the anxieties I kept inside.

The occasional feelings of the blues still hit me, but it was nowhere near depression, maybe, it was normal and expected to some degree for any typical adult.

Still, if I had underlying anxiety, maybe it could be the reason I reacted badly to the medications I had been on time 8 years ago, being one of those who eventually developed side effects.

I’m also writing this to bring awareness to a somewhat taboo subject in Asia.
As a culture in Asia, we do not like talking about mental health openly, due to the impression that it is a weakness, sometimes almost akin to a disability.

But I would argue that expressing about it openly helps prevent more depression in others, knowing they are not alone and that there are ways to manage it.

We are allowed to have moments of the blues, sadness, and even anxiety, but managed well with open discussion and proactive ways to overcome them. Sometimes it may even be traits of overthinkers, creative people, maybe even philosophers.

We live in a world with many problems and issues, those of which I do ponder on, especially in my quietness. So some sadness can be intertwined with the joys we have in life.

What do you think?

Anxiety comes in many forms, sometimes even in the form of being ‘normal’.

I’ve had a difficult day at work and decided to pack up and go home.

I got up from my workstation and walked briskly out of our office into the central corridor of our 3-story building, and stopped directly in front of the lift, pausing for a moment.

Then, hearing a group of my colleagues approaching from behind me, I pressed the button to call for the elevator, then turned instead to my right towards the door leading to the stairs.

“Rebecca, are you coming down with us?” I heard a voice behind me calling out.

“Hey, I think I’m going to run down the stairs instead, but I got the lift for all of you”

” Why not join us and take the lift down?”

I turned back to her and decided to be honest with my answer.

“I’m feeling stressed out at work today, and I need to walk it off” I answered and smiled, turned back towards the door, pushed through it to enter the stairwell, and took off down the stairs.

I had meant what I had said earlier to my co-worker.

Because this is how I deal with stress and anger.

Sometimes, even for my anxiety.

I’ve always had the urge to walk or just to move when I had a difficult time processing my feelings and emotions, especially feelings of anger and tension.

Looking back at past experiences, whenever I was feeling hot inside due to situations that occur around me, especially when dealing with difficult scenarios and people, I usually try to cool down by moving.

Today was no exception.

It felt as though in order to hold my tongue and to have an outlet for how I felt inside, my body needed to have some form of physical movement.

If I had a punching bag hanging down in front of me, I would probably have started punching it till I felt better.

Since these are not easily accessible in my day-to-day, I walk instead.

And I walk fast.

While moving, I think out my thoughts in detail, reliving what had happened earlier in work meetings, and processing them, while I walk from point A to B.

My body turned on autopilot mode and made its way safely downstairs, navigating around others and across a few building blocks, then up the bridge to cross a small river, down the other side, and finally to my parked car.

Basically, I’d try to walk till I feel better, till my initial welled-up feelings of frustration dissipate, even if by a little.

And I usually do feel better after about 10 mins of walking.

Otherwise, the weight of my feelings will eventually come to the surface and tend to affect those around me, especially my husband and kids.

And no one wants an irritable mother and wife, snapping at them for the smallest error or annoyance that they did in front of me.

We find ways to cope however we can.

How do you cope with your feelings of anger and frustration?

If you don’t have one yet, one of the simplest way is to take a good walk.

Hope it helps to calm you down.

This has been on my mind for the past year.

Call it aging, or call it gaining maturity, I have elevated the value of relationships up a few notches in my life over the last few years.

Because people matter to us, and us to them.

Relationship problems are the cause of many past traumas I’ve had, but it’s also their fingerprints in our life that have led us to become who we are today.

Good relationships build and nurture us, while bad relationships hurt us and leave some parts of us damaged. The impact can last a long, long time.

So it’s clear that relationships are pivotal in our life.

However, instead of building good relationships, we are regularly reminded instead of the importance of monetary investments to secure a life of financial security and wealth.

Especially now that there is more exposure from social media about the emphasis on wealth and how to get more wealth for ourselves.

We are frequently thinking of new methods to earn more money, be it investing in stocks, properties, or cryptocurrency, and ways to take on additional sources of income by doing multiple jobs.

Together with the trend of capitalism with its displays of flashy advertisements and television programs showing what wealth can get you, it is pretty hard to avoid the feeling that monetary gain is the one key measure of success.

Don’t get me wrong, financial literacy is important, and financial independence is something we should aim for in the long term. Money after all can secure a good life for yourself and your family, so it has to be considered as a need for one to be financially sound.

But the pursuit of wealth should not be at the cost of our relationships.

We are driven to work harder, and longer hours, hustling to get ahead of the others and chase down promotions and work opportunities.

Some may even put off having children in adulthood or sacrifice time with family members due to having demanding jobs with the promise of high gains.

This may fit some people, and career ambition is probably something that we can push ourselves towards in our younger years, but eventually, we got to ask ourselves what is the end goal of having money

Let’s say you have gained sufficient income to take care of yourself and your family for years to come, and have managed to put yourself out of the ‘survival mode’ mentality where you were constantly pushing yourself to earn more money.

In other words, you have gained financial security and are now capable to continue to keep this status.

Would you still push out the relationships in your life in order to pursue even more wealth?

Instead, maybe we can work towards some semblance of work-life balance, as elusive as it sounds.

Maybe we can try to work smarter and set aside the needed time to see our aging parents, kids, and close friends.

Even if you are passionate about your work, which is a great thing to have, we still need to manage the relationships in our lives so that those do not fall apart.

In my opinion, good relationships are also investments, although their gain is not in monetary form.

The key message here is this.

In your pursuit of wealth, do not neglect the relationships with your loved ones your life.

Instead, money should be a tool.

A tool that is used not only to secure better health, better education, and opportunities, but also to nurture or grow the good relationships in your life.

Because life is a journey, and one of the end goals of having money is to be able to take care of our loved ones and friends, be it to have the ability to have more time with them or to meet their needs.

Without good relationships in our lives, it will feel pretty lonely to have all the cash but no one you love to spend it with.

So if you play your cards right while you are in your prime, then years from now, you would still be able to cherish the bond you have with your children, your spouse or partner, your parents, and your friends.

It would be a great loss to lose the important people in our lives along the way while we are pursuing wealth.

And let us take some time to think about this.

On our deathbed, who and what would be on your mind?

Money, will not be in mine, but I would think my love for my family will be one of my final thoughts.

Unfortunately in today’s trend, we often see one’s own views and ideals overtly expressed and voiced out without any filter.

However, some caution is needed as we may possibly be wrong in our views, or we lack our filter, which may lead us to say something which we later regret, especially when it’s publicly shared over social media.

The same goes for the decisions and actions we make day to day, at work, at home, in our relationships, or even the choices that we make personally for ourselves.

I think we need to take a step back to verify if we are right to say and do what we have chosen to do. 

Maybe, we could possibly be wrong.

It’s a step to avoid being overly confident in ourselves and getting things totally wrong, which will impact us and those we love negatively.

So, take caution.

But here’s one other thing.

Humans are funny, aren’t they?

Subject one, me myself and I.

I have self-esteem issues, but I realized one of the effects of having low self-confidence is to try to be right in situations, and to avoid being wrong in front of others.

Because I didn’t want to view myself as incompetent, and neither did I want others to view me in this light as well.

But at the same time, this meant that I was insecure about myself and wanted validation from others. Now it sounds like I have a self-pride issue.

In my view, the ones who are really secure about themselves, do not need validation from others.

And they are open to admitting their mistakes because they feel comfortable doing so.

Progress cannot be made if we do not admit a flaw, right?

So in my particular case, a balance is needed.

Some confidence and trust in myself that I can do things well, and also some self-doubt in order to check in on myself from time to time.

Anyone can relate to these feelings?