Posts

Permission to Pause

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Today was pure delight. Three things I’d been wanting for ages finally happened: a creambath, smoked tuna jaw (so good!), and meeting Mba Fit again. Jackpot. Of course, I still have to be careful not to move around too much (I don’t want to risk spotting again), but honestly, it was safe. Basically just self-pampering, food, and conversations. That’s it. And yet, it felt like a full day. Mba Fit picked me up at 10am. We went straight to our favorite salon in Bintaro. She had reflexology and a creambath. I had a creambath plus blow-dry. We walked out glowing. Not just from shiny hair, but from that smug little joy you get after pampering yourself. Next stop: smoked tuna jaw. While waiting for the food, we bumped into the owner, someone we know. He dropped some behind-the-scenes stories and business tips. A side of gossip with our fish. Perfect. By 2 p.m., I was back home. My husband was still locked in endless meetings, no lunch in sight. I whipped something up and sat with him for a la...
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When Life Forgets to Press the Button

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It was one of those days that felt like a sitcom episode written without a script. You know, the kind where the main character thinks she has everything under control, only to discover she forgot the most important part: literally pressing the “cook” button on the rice cooker. Yes, that was me. And yes, the rice remained uncooked until it was too late, and my guest left with an empty stomach but a full care package of fried cassava and tofu.  To make it worse (or funnier, depending on your sense of humor), the boiled eggs I packed for our guest weren’t even fully cooked. Turns out our shiny new egg maker wasn’t as foolproof as we thought. The yolks were still runny, which would have been fine if we were making ramen, but less ideal as a polite snack offering. LOL.  The guest wasn’t actually mine. My husband invited our eldest daughter’s best friend for a free mentoring session. Except my daughter wasn’t home; she was stuck in class all day. So it was just the three of us, me h...
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Chill to Heal

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I woke up from a strange long vivid dream this morning. The kind of dream that felt so real I had to blink twice to make sure I was actually back in my room. My brain apparently runs its own cinema franchise at night. I rushed to open my laptop before the scenes slipped away, and yes, I also asked ChatGPT what it could possibly mean. When I copy-pasted it to hubby's whatsapp, his comment: "Your dream is like Korean drama series, long and detailed. How come you could memorize it all?" LOL The day started pretty well. I had scheduled ShopeeFood from last night: twelve kinds of veggies and proteins from the nearest warteg. I opened the fridge and it looked like I was ready to survive an apocalypse. Or at least a busy week without cooking. My oldest daughter took charge of Monday’s cooking shift anyway, frying calamari without all-purpose flour. Breadcrumbs did the job just fine, and honestly, it tasted like restaurant food. Good job!  Later I munched on roasted almonds, sti...
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Hurt vs Harm

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Sunday, 14 September 2025 I don’t know if this happens to you too, but sometimes my days feel like a long grocery receipt filled with random items that don’t seem to belong together. Like today: I went to church, had communion, heard a sermon about distinguishing hurt from harm (profound, right?), then later found myself eating pork knuckle while listening to live saxophone in a food court. By evening, I was hunting down half-cooked kue cubit on ShopeeFood, and because that wasn’t enough, I threw in a 50% off Sate Padang for good measure. Somewhere in between all that, I also watched a hilariously awkward Filipino movie called   Kontrabida Academy . See what I mean? Grocery receipt. But out of all those bits, what stuck with me wasn’t the pork belly or the kue cubit (though trust me, they were memorable). It was the sermon by Pastor Sidney Mohede :   the difference between hurt and harm . I think many of us confuse the two. I know sometimes I still do.  When something hu...
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The Rooms Inside Us (MBTI)

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Saturday, 13 September 2025 I first learned about MBTI back in 2014 during one of my postgraduate counseling classes. My lecturer told us we could bring our partners to sit in because, according to him, MBTI wasn’t just useful for clients; it worked wonders for couples too. Out of all the students, guess who was the only partner who showed up? My husband. Not only did he come, he sat right in the front row and took meticulous notes like a model student.  That day gave us a lot of   aha   moments. For instance, we finally understood why our fights often escalated into mini soap operas. It turned out I was very   Judging;  my motto being “if it can be done now, why wait?”. On contrary, my husband was peak   Perceiving , living by the philosophy “if it can be done later, why rush now?” Naturally, the collision was inevitable. MBTI helped us laugh at these differences instead of weaponizing them. It also explained why I often felt “too emotional” (hello, Feelin...
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Micro Moments in Midnight Meatballs

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Friday, 12 September 2025 “ Aku suka nih yg kayak gini, banyak insightsnya ,” my husband said when he read my post the other day, the one titled   Living Light Without Decision Fatigue . I grinned, because honestly, I liked that piece too. It felt like my brain finally had the space to stretch and walk around barefoot. Writing something that goes beyond daily events, something with depth, with meaning, always feels nourishing for me. But here’s the thing: the everyday stories matter too. Without them, I’d forget so many details. Like how I remember exactly that my surgery was on August 15, simply because I wrote it down here. But now, when I’m trying to recall when the itchy spots on my hands and feet first appeared, my memory fails me. Why? Because I didn’t write it. That’s the price of not documenting. So maybe my new strategy is to keep writing my deeper reflections   and   sprinkle in some bullet points or short lists of daily happenings. Just little markers, like bre...
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Learning Patience Through Pain

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Thursday, 11 September 2025 At 01:30 am, I was shuffling my way to the toilet, when I suddenly realized something was wrong: my inner thigh had swollen into this soft, hand-sized lump. Not firm like muscle, but squishy like water under the skin. Exactly like what I saw when I first came home from the hospital. Naturally, the one I asked for help was... guess who? Doctor GPT. Because really, who wants to text their real doctor at almost 2 am in the morning? The answer popped up instantly: most likely caused by a massage that was too strong. And bingo! Just the day before at 10 a.m., I had endured the world’s most painful massage. Imagine lying there, promising yourself you’d breathe through it calmly, only to end up screaming and lifting your leg because it hurt so much. I had told the therapist to go easy on me. But apparently, “gentle” was translated into “press as if kneading bread dough.” That same day, I had actually shortened my massage package from 15 days to 7. My excuse was “to...
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Living Light without Decision Fatigue

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Wednesday, 10 September 2025 Today I finally picked up the last of my things from Vintage Vibes, while also dropping off some items my daughter entrusted me with. A bit of an errand run, but with a nice twist: I got to sneak in another “date” with my husband over a bowl of soto tangkar in The Broadway. Yes, we still call it dating, even after all these years. Don’t take that away from me; it’s one of the secrets to keeping marriage alive. Last night’s “date” was mostly us focusing on the food. Today, though, since only I was eating, we ended up talking more. Somewhere between spoonfuls, I told him something that even surprised me: ever since we stopped having a house helper and an admin, my life actually feels   lighter .  Not lighter because we’re spending less money on salaries. Lighter because I’m no longer drowning in the endless stream of small, repetitive decisions that used to flood my days. For the first time in years, I feel free from decision fatigue. Here’s the thin...
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Small Ripples, Big Waves

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Tuesday, 09 September 2025 I’ll be honest with you. The past few days I’ve been doubting my decision to write long reflections and publish them only here on the blog. A part of me kept asking: does it even matter? Does anyone get something from it? Am I being selfish, writing just for myself instead of sharing with the 24,000 followers I still have on Instagram? Wouldn’t it be better to show up there, where the attention is, where the “numbers” live? These questions have been running circles in my head like kids after too much sugar. But then... life has a funny way of answering doubts at the exact moment you need it. Last weekend, my youngest daughter casually told me a story. “Mom, remember Vibi? My friend who’s a Sunday school teacher?” “Yeah, why?” “She said reading your blog really helped her during her recovery after her appendectomy.” I blinked. “Wait, she reads my blog?” “Yes. I didn’t even know she did.” “How did she find it?” “No idea. Maybe she follows you on Instagram.” And...
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Monday Meals and Massage

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Monday, 08 September 2025 This morning, work pile stares at me with judgmental eyes, but my kitchen insists on being part of the narrative. Leftover yellow rice from my birthday was sitting there in the refrigerator, looking too precious to waste. So I threw in some   kecombrang   and tongkol . Voilà, brunch was born. The side dish: stir-fried green beans with pork slices, sautéed with white wine. Yes, wine. And yes, I shamelessly asked ChatGPT for the recipe just by sending a photo. Technology, my friends, has gone from solving equations to fixing dinner. And it turned out delicious. A little fancy, a little rustic. Exactly like how I want life to taste. By noon, I decided to spoil myself. Birthday gift, self-issued. A two-hour body treatment at home. The package was originally designed for post-partum care, but I had it tweaked for my own post-hysterectomy healing journey. The difference is, of course, nobody’s massaging my belly, no steaming herbs, no breast massage (serio...
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