The Diary of a CEO's Wife

This morning started with a kiss goodbye at 5am. My husband quietly slipped out of bed, and gently kissed me before driving himself to the airport. He parked right at the terminal and made it just in time for the early morning flight. Only to find out: it was delayed. Still, he kept texting me from the lounge, keeping me updated as if I were his anchor in the middle of a long, blurry day ahead. I remind him to pray. At 10:45am, I finally got another message. Just one word: “Landed.” I knew what came next. No time to chat. He’d be diving into meetings with investors, going through rounds of negotiations that, honestly, have started to feel like déjà vu. The kind where you don’t know if it’s the last fight or just one more in a long series of battles to keep something alive. For anyone watching from the outside, it's just another business trip. For him, it's battle. A quiet one. A costly one. You have no idea how much effort he puts into keeping the company afloat. And truthfully...

I’ve learned that when I don’t claim my morning to write, the day slips through my fingers like fine sand. It passes in a blink, like a fast-forwarded scene, and I’m left empty-handed. I can feel it in my chest, this vague discomfort of a day lived but not captured, like I lost a conversation I was supposed to have with myself. Just like that, I missed three days. Three days without jotting down my thoughts. And it wasn’t for lack of something to say; it never is. Life is always speaking to me, through small moments, through feelings I can’t name just yet. Three of my last posts were backdated. Patches stitched on an old journal entry, written only after I could finally sit, breathe, and let my words catch up to me. Take yesterday, for example. I got pulled into the current of routines. It started with cooking, then running to the lab, grocery shopping. I told myself I'd rest while tidying up. That led to Netflix on the side. Then a bath. Then reading. And just like that, lights of...

Today, I was busy being a student again. Not in a classroom, not wearing a uniform, but still deeply immersed in learning. My calendar wasn’t packed with meetings or errands, but with space to read, write, and feel. And weirdly enough, it felt more nourishing than a full-course meal. I joined a writing class called BNN Ultimate, guided by Okki. Writing has always been a part of my life. So has reading. They’re like breath and sleep. So basic, so automatic, that sometimes I forget to ask: Is the quality good? Am I writing with presence, or just out of habit? Am I reading to expand my heart, or just scrolling to fill silence? That's why I joined this class, to be mindful again. To honor the act, not just the output. I also started something softer but just as powerful: “21 Days of Receiving” by Rahne. It comes with a receiving tracker, a workbook, and modules that feel like gentle invitations to slow down. During the intro session, we were asked to check in with our bodies. “How’s yo...

Monday morning, 8 a.m., I found myself walking hand in hand with my eldest daughter to a newly opened nail salon in our neighborhood market. The manicure and pedicure combo only cost IDR 115,000, which felt like a steal. The therapist had just moved to Jakarta after spending two years in Bali and TEN years in China. Her stories of adaptation and courage reminded me how many quiet warriors walk among us, their strength tucked into everyday jobs. After our nails were freshly done and our hearts warmed by stories, we headed for early lunch: comforting bowls of bakmi. Followed by chamomile tea and Uno cards at a cozy corner café. This place was a gem, offering board games and a surprising collection of imported books you can browse freely. I already knew I’d want to come back. Time moved slower there, right in the modern market.   Before heading home, I picked up a pair of shoes I’d sent for repair. They looked like new, and something about that felt symbolic: like small things can be ...

How we accidentally packed an entire weekend into one Saturday Yesterday started strong. My husband and I had just finished a casual, energizing stroll with some fellow startup folks in the morning. Two and a half hours on foot, non-stop convo, not-so-fresh air, and plenty of laughs. We got home a bit sweaty (okay, I was very sweaty), and barely had time to breathe before we had to rush 26km away to our previous home.  While I went to the john and showered in record speed, my daughter made a quick lunch: an instant nasi daging rendang from Lanana, that came from a Ralali goodie bag. I took one bite in the car and surprised because it was shockingly good. Warm, comforting, spicy, but not too much. I finished it right there, happily chewing through traffic.  By 1 PM, we arrived at the property just in time. Five people were already waiting, ready to help us maintain the place. The timing was perfect.  First up: two awesome guys from Cleansheet . They’re part of a service t...

What started as a simple invite: “let’s go for a walk near my place”, turned into a small, happy gathering. Rhein jumped on board, said it’s one of the nicest parks around, and invited Vio, Jo, Steph, and Hendra.  So there we were, walking and chatting like it was the most natural way to start a Saturday. It wasn’t about steps or fitness goals, just a chance to be present together and talk about life while moving our feet.  We began from private botanic garden, and made our way to a public city park. The air wasn’t exactly fresh, but the company made it easy to ignore that. Somewhere in the middle, we stopped by a café owned by a fellow founder. Ordered drinks, sat around, and just talked. No agenda. No fancy brunch. Just coffee and beer, conversations, and the kind of back-and-forth that fills you up more than food ever could.  Our topics jumped everywhere: startup pains, parenting stories, school choices, house repairs, health hacks. Nothing was off limits, nothing was ...

Being the co-initiator of StartupLokal Community since April 2010, I’ve had the honor of witnessing the unpredictable rhythm of startup life up close. I’ve personally seen how startup founders dream, build, soar, crash, recover, and reinvent.  It’s never linear, it’s rarely easy. But it’s always inspiring. I didn’t just watch from the sidelines; I helped connect them, and I carry these founders’ journeys like pages of a living book. If conventional businesses age like humans, startups age like cats. What takes a traditional business 30 years to mature, a startup might live through in just five. For context: a one-year-old cat is roughly equivalent to a 15-year-old human. By the time a cat turns 10, it’s considered a senior, like a human in their 60s. Similarly, startups that make it to 10 years are practically legends. Many don’t even survive past year three. So when I see a startup hit a decade milestone, I know it’s nothing short of miraculous. That’s why I was grateful to join ...

Everything I do is intentional. To some, my life might look spontaneous. Like I do whatever I want, whenever I want. They see the changes I make, the things I post, the words I choose, and maybe they assume I’m just trying things out without direction. But if you know me well, you’ll know: I rarely do things without a reason. There’s always a thread connecting my decisions. Everything I do is by design. Even the smallest things carry intention. It may not be obvious, but I promise you: there’s always a reason underneath. “Why do you write in English?” some people asked. A fair question. To them, it might seem I could reach more Indonesian audience if I wrote in Bahasa Indonesia (after all, that’s what most of my audience speaks). But again, it’s intentional. I write in English to sort my readers. Not by status, but by mindset. I choose more educated audience. By “educated,” I don’t mean fancy degrees or academic achievements. I simply mean: those who are willing to learn. Those who don...

The idea of becoming just 1% better every day has been quietly reshaping how I live. That’s the whole premise of Atomic Habits by James Clear. And that’s what I’ve been trying to live out ever since I finished reading the book. Not in big, dramatic moves, but in small, quiet shifts that add up to something meaningful. One thing that truly stuck with me from the book is the importance of tapping into existing habits. That was a lightbulb moment. Instead of building a brand-new routine from scratch, I just had to attach a new habit to an old one. Like adding a note to an already familiar melody. This strategy has helped me far more than sheer discipline ever did. I’ve added a few habits that feel almost second nature now. Every night, after my usual bathroom trip before bed, I brush my teeth and put skincare on my face, just to mark the end of my day with care. I also read at least one chapter of a book daily, either around 4 p.m. in balcony or right before bed. Whenever I’m cooking or e...

Yesterday was one of those days that reminded me why I love being present in real life. I met Bunga, a good old friend of mine, for a long overdue catch-up at The People’s Cafe. We talked non-stop for two and a half hours: from personal updates, projects, religion, family, trip, to powerful wanderlog app demo, lol. Just the two of us, no distractions, no scrolling. Pure, heartfelt conversation. By the time is running out, my husband dropped by to bring a gift I had forgotten to bring earlier for Bunga’s son. Shortly after, Bunga’s husband also came, along with their 10-year-old boy. The sweetest moment was when the very first thing their son said to his mom was a sincere apology because he didn’t get the test score he was hoping for. No cover-up, no delay, just “sorry” and a confession. I found that moment so pure. It showed the kind of openness and emotional trust that’s rare these days, even among adults. Another interesting thing happened at the same time was when I saw Okki, not fa...

My first day after deleting every social media app from my phone felt liberating and deliberate. I began by announcing on my feed that I was officially on hiatus for the joy of missing out. In parallel, I shared a story with a link to this very blog, so anyone curious about my experiment could follow along in depth rather than bite‑sized snippets. With each tap of “uninstall,” the digital clutter on my home screen vanished, and I swear I could feel the invisible weight of all those apps drop away. I was already noticing pockets of calm where I would normally have reached for my phone. My mind felt lighter, more spacious. Instead of reflexive scrolling, I found myself reaching for a book, or jotting down ideas that had been buried under a mountain of memes and hot takes. It was astonishing how free I felt when I finally broke the habit of letting every trending topic dictate my mood. As I'm writing this now, I realized how much I miss uninterrupted thought. The silence felt like a g...

I’ve been seriously considering deleting all social media apps from my phone. Lately, I feel like I’m consuming too many “snacks” (i.e. mindless scrolling through feeds) instead of enjoying “real food” like reading in‑depth articles or engaging in deep thinking. Social media has become a buffet of bite‑sized distractions that leave me feeling hungry for something more substantial. Back in 2000, when I first embraced the internet through mIRC chat rooms and blog posts, the online world felt like a safe haven. Only a few could afford to use it, mostly educated and curious people who valued thoughtful discussion. The barrier to entry was high, and that created a community of like‑minded individuals who were genuinely interested in ideas and exchange. Today, that barrier has collapsed. Everyone uses the internet, but rarely with conscience, and while smartphones are smarter than ever, genuine curiosity seems in short supply. The viral nature of social media is both mesmerizing and terrifyi...