Thursday, 04 September 2025
And the secret? My self-imposed “no onion, no Yakult, no chia seeds” rule. Harsh? Maybe. Effective? Apparently yes. Though honestly, I still don’t know which of those three sneaky culprits is the real villain in my stomach saga. Is it the onions that I used to love in every dish? The supposedly good-for-you Yakult? Or those chia seeds that look harmless but might secretly be plotting against me? Who knows. All I care about is: today, I am free.
Two days now without painkillers. Sure, I still have a small stash of them from the doctor, but they’re staying in the drawer like an emergency-only squad. (Hopefully never needed again.) It feels like I’ve passed a level in some strange survival video game: “Achievement unlocked: live without painkillers for 48 hours!” And I didn’t even need cheat codes.
Food log for the curious:
Breakfast: panada isi ikan from Mbak Ike, plus American Mix Salad to Go!
Lunch: Sumo rice + kangkung + ikan kembung (but doesn't betray with extra “kembung” or gassy)
Dinner: another round of ikan kembung, with sawi ijo + mushrooms + tomatoes.
Safe, simple, satisfying.
Now, even though today’s menu didn’t bring any culinary drama, life never fails to throw in a bit of side plot. This time, courtesy of function room management. Long story short: a whole mess about the function room booking for my upcoming birthday. I reserved it last month while still in the hospital, and they confirmed. But suddenly today they tell me, “We're sorry, actually someone booked it two months before.” Excuse me? If that were true, why confirm me in the first place?
I asked for proof of that earlier booking, of course. Spoiler: they couldn’t produce any. After some failed calls and apologetic WhatsApps, they finally admitted I could have the function room at the time I originally asked; thanks to a “coincidental cancellation.” Hmm. Coincidence or conscience? Let’s just say I’m too tired to overthink it, so I’ll take the win.
By the evening, things turned brighter. My daughter came home from her dorm, along with my husband who's carrying delicious martabak. We also got an Independence Day hampers from Aksoro that had been mistakenly delivered to our old apartment. Dinner stretched into laughter as my kids brainstormed games and food ideas for the birthday gathering. The theme: efficiency. Which in family language means “everything homemade and handled by us.” I love that energy.
My upcoming birthday will be small, just the inner circle: my family, my mom, my sibling’s family. My mother-in-law and brothers-in-law are away, and the only guest outside family will be my eldest daughter’s good friend. A tight-knit, cozy celebration. Honestly, perfect for someone still in recovery.
And maybe that’s the point of today. Health, peace, a little drama with a neat resolution, and love that shows up in the form of martabak, laughter, and homemade party planning.
I keep thinking of something Anne Lamott wrote: “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” My stomach had to unplug itself from onions and Yakult and chia seeds. My birthday had to unplug itself from big, complicated plans. And I had to unplug myself from the pressure of making everything look grand or Instagram-worthy (thank God I left social media for almost 2 months now!)
The older I get, the more I realize life isn’t about big explosions of success or giant parties or congratulations from people who barely know your middle name. It’s about these quiet wins: one smooth bathroom trip, one drama resolved without too much heartache, one meal where everyone laughs more than they chew.
And maybe that’s why INFJs like me find so much joy in these tiny victories. We notice the undercurrents. The subtle shifts. The small mercies. Sometimes it feels like no one else sees them; but that’s okay. They don’t need to. We see them, and they’re enough.
Healing, I’ve learned, doesn’t only happen in hospitals or clinics. Healing also happens at the dinner table, at the family planning session for a homemade birthday, even in the act of telling your body, “Okay fine, no more onions for you.” Healing is a decision we make, sometimes daily, to choose what nourishes us and let go of what doesn’t.
And yes, sometimes it’s frustrating. Part of me still wants to be able to eat whatever I want: load up on onions, sip Yakult like it’s a magic elixir, sprinkle chia seeds on everything like a wellness influencer. But my body has made its point loud and clear. Boundaries exist even in digestion. The trick is to honor them instead of fighting them.
Pay attention to the small victories. Notice the days your stomach doesn’t rebel, the nights you sleep without painkillers, the family dinners where laughter drowns out stress. They may not look like much from the outside, but inside, they’re proof you’re moving forward.
And when life throws you a function room management fiasco or a food trigger mystery, don’t forget to laugh a little. After all, isn’t it funny how often we humans complicate things that could’ve been simple?
May we keep choosing peace; whether in our stomachs, our celebrations, or our daily dramas. May we learn to unplug when we need it, and plug back in with more grace. And may we keep celebrating, not only on birthdays but on random Thursdays when our stomachs finally behave.
Cheers,
Nuniek Tirta