The Diary of a CEO's Wife

This morning started with one of those walks that make me grateful we live where we do. At 8 a.m., my husband and I wandered down through the botanical garden tunnel and, fifteen minutes later, found ourselves at the nearest mall. He headed into a hybrid meeting with his team scattered between Indonesia and Singapore. I had my own appointment: a catch-up with my friend, Aulia Qisthi . Funny thing is, Aulia started out as one of my Instagram followers. She slid into my life years ago with kindness, the sort of kindness that doesn’t feel performative but steady, like a friend who notices when you’re quiet. When I was in the hospital, she kept checking in, asking if I needed anything, if I wanted something to eat. Last week she messaged again: “Can we meet up? I want to celebrate your health, your recovery.” How could I say no? If you peek at her world, she’s the founder of   @ powermom.id ,  a community she started to uplift mothers. But before she was building that, she was sim...

If Mondays could talk, today’s would sound like a mix of sighs from my husband’s endless meetings and my own moans of relief from an afternoon nap, and maybe one more kind of moan later, LOL.  Daydreaming back to Imerovigli Honestly, there wasn’t much story today. It was just another Monday, the kind that slips by quietly, leaving almost no trace behind. My husband spent the day locked in serial online meetings from morning till evening. I, on the other hand, did my usual Monday ritual: ordering vegetables from warteg. Enough stock to last until Friday, because Saturday and Sunday are usually our eating-out days. I also added proteins like eggs and marinated  fish. Because if you have an oven airfryer, simplicity is the love language of survival. By late afternoon, I managed to sneak in a nap while my husband was still in front of his screen. And at night, we watched   Anora   on HBO. Well. Let me just say this: it’s basically a semi-p*rn film. Way too many scenes I ...

If you had walked past my apartment this morning, you would have caught me sitting far too long in the bathroom, typing away on my laptop like a philosopher trapped in the least glamorous corner of the house. It’s my guilty pleasure: toilets are the most undisturbed writing studios in the world. No one interrupts you (unless you live with toddlers, in which case I salute your courage).  Today I was updating my long-neglected LinkedIn profile after getting a gentle nudge from the app. Apparently, it’s been ages since I refreshed anything besides my posts. The realization came after last week’s IPC networking event; proof that sometimes it takes being in a room with new faces to notice the cobwebs in our online ones. Meanwhile, my husband and our youngest were in deep conversation about a “fun project,” which in their language means brainstorming business model, drawing diagrams, debating revenue models, and laughing at their own brilliant jokes. Seeing them huddled together over ima...

Today’s trivia: went to the mall to drop off my husband, who supposedly had a Cursor meetup. Spoiler alert: the event was postponed to next month and he didn’t read the email. Lol. So instead, we had sushi for lunch at Sushi Wa, grabbed Kopi Kenangan, and stocked up on fruits at the farmers market. Not a bad trade-off. But the real highlight of my day was something else: writing. It’s funny how this habit has become like a quiet drumbeat in my life since July 20, 2025, when I committed to writing at least 1000 words a day on this blog. What started as “let’s see if I can actually do this” has turned into a ritual so familiar, I almost treat it like brushing my teeth. Or, if I’m honest, like going to the toilet. (More on that later. Sorry in advance.) The spark today came from our BNN Ultimate group. Okki Sutanto wrote this cheerful post inviting everyone to join a #30DaysChallenge of daily writing. He even promised a book for those who finished.   Andina replied, saying she was i...

Six weeks post-hysterectomy, I got back to the hospital for a follow-up with my ob-gyn/oncologist. My husband came along as my chauffeur, cheerleader, and lunch date. Multitasking at its finest. We made a pit stop at the Padang restaurant next door, and I have to say: the crispy   dadar barendo   was worth every calorie.  The good news: everything is healing well. The weird part: there’s still a spot on my belly that feels like a hidden bruise, painful when pressed but invisible from the outside. My doctor assured me it’s normal, probably just nerve damage from surgery. He handed me Methycobal 500 mg to help with nerve repair. So yes, I’m basically popping “vitamins for nerves” now. Beautiful real orchids in hospital's waiting room This week, my eldest decided to camp out at her friend’s dorm in Pondok Kukusan, Depok. She retraced the legendary noodle stall her dad used to frequent back in his student days. After that, she’s going to spend an entire week at her grandparen...

Starbucks was supposed to be my sanctuary that morning. Tempo Scan Tower, drop-off spot, safe plan: mix juice, Wi-Fi, a corner table where I could disappear into Headway . Except, plot twist: Starbucks was closed for renovation. The shutters were down, my drinking plan collapsed, and suddenly I had nowhere to go. It’s funny how such a small inconvenience can throw you off balance. For a split second, I considered loitering awkwardly in the lobby. Instead, I spotted a Bluebird taxi that had just dropped someone off. Rp 9,000 later, I was on my way across the street, supposedly to Starbucks Menara Kadin. But halfway, on instinct, I asked the driver to switch course: “Pak, Erasmus Huis aja ya.” That detour turned out to be a gift. Erasmus Huis , the cultural wing of the Dutch Embassy, is one of Jakarta’s underrated havens. The library is cool, bright, and lined with shelves of Dutch and English books. It also has Warung Belanda, a cozy little café with both indoor and outdoor seating. Per...

Nothing dramatic, nothing spectacular today. Just random little things strung together in a way that somehow made sense, at least to me. The day started with brunch: three people, warteg food, reheated from Monday. (Yes, Monday. Don’t judge, it’s called being resourceful.) There’s something oddly comforting about eating humble food together, like it sets the tone that the rest of the day doesn’t have to try too hard. After brunch, we headed to Vintage Vibes. The plan was practical: pick up a few things, maybe browse. Of course, I ended up finding something I didn’t know I wanted until I saw it. Isn’t that always how it works? The universe has a way of surprising us when we least expect it. Now here’s the thing: I was way too comfortable in my pleated dress to change. You know that rare feeling when an outfit makes you feel at home in your own skin? That was me today. So instead of switching, I just threw on a ceruty babydoll outer in the same tone, slipped into my matching Skechers, ...

After a full month of hibernation since my hysterectomy on August 15, I finally started opening myself up again to the social life other than family and church.  Last week it began with a day out with Mbak Fithri, and today it continued with a hangout session with Mbak Ike, who came all the way just to “kidnap” me for a few hours. Here’s the thing about me: I can get along with anyone, but I’m extremely selective with whom I give my time. My heart is like a little guesthouse: many can knock, few are welcomed inside. And when I do let someone in, I give my full presence. No scrolling, no gadgets, no half-hearted nods. Just talk. That’s what happened today with Mbak Ike. Posted with consent We sat at Hygge BSD, facing a wide glass window that overlooked the busy highway. Strangely, it felt like the perfect backdrop. Two women catching up on life, while cars and buses rushed by like background noise in a movie. We talked for one and a half hours straight, and honestly, it felt like f...

There are few things in life that test our character more than waiting. Not the kind of waiting where you’re stuck in traffic with your favorite playlist on, but the heavy kind; waiting without certainty. The waiting that weighs on you because you don’t know if it will end tomorrow, next month, or next year. I’ve been thinking a lot about this today because something big just wrapped up. A long-awaited promise was finally fulfilled. And in the process, I witnessed firsthand how differently people behave when placed in the uncomfortable chair of “ the waiting room of life. ” Imagine a waiting room where everyone has been told their name will be called someday, maybe soon, maybe late. You’d see at least two kinds of people. Some people sit quietly, open a book, maybe start a new project on the side while glancing occasionally at the clock. They don’t need to narrate their suffering to the entire room.  They choose dignity over drama.  They know that patience doesn’t have to be ...