Set Free

(NKJV) Blessed are those who keep His testimonies, who seek Him with the whole heart

Trust His wisdom and obey His commands

All of us, from when we were young, had been inclined to disobey the rules we encounter on a daily basis. We either think that we know better, or we don't understand what the rules are for. For me, the lack of understanding of the purpose of those rules stem from a lack of trust that the person (or authority) that created those rules has my best interests at heart. When I don't have a relationship with that person / authority, it would be difficult for me to trust that they created those rules or asked me to do something because they want good outcomes for me. 

But God is looking for people who will obey Him, and He promises blessings for faithful obedience (Deuteronomy 28:1-14).

I came to the Bible College of Wales because I needed to take a sabbatical from work. 2019 was a year of Life Plans Not Working Out - from career to running, to mental health. I had a lot of anxiety and eventual burnout in the second half of the year. A sabbatical was certain, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do. BCW was suggested by a few different people, but I still had fears.

I loved you. I hope you knew and felt that in your heart in your last moments. I hope you didn’t have any doubt how much you were loved by the people you have had an impact on. I am sad to think that when you left us you were alone. I cannot begin to imagine what was running through your mind, and I think if I were to try, I would cause myself more grief because I would never come close to an answer.

I loved you. You were kind, so kind. You opened up your heart to me when I was trying to make sense of a life in London in the beginning, and then many, many times after. When I felt unloved, you showed me love. There were no limits as to what I could pour out to you. And your quiet wisdom almost always followed.

I loved you. You had an infectious zest for life, and you didn’t let work troubles or frustrations get in the way of that. Your laugh, your easygoing laugh, still echoes in my mind, especially at the end of that latest track you put out. And the stereo sound effect when Bobby chimed in with his laughter too.

I loved you. I loved how you use to say my name in fond exasperation. When I didn’t stop talking about work, or when I didn’t want to put myself out there (in the dating scene). It’s like you wanted me to live life and not let anything hold me back. Because you knew how to live life. No matter what had happened, I still believe you knew how to live. And in all the possible scenarios my restless mind has run through, none of them fit.

I loved you. I loved your creative, brilliant mind; yet you were still humble and kind in nature. I loved that in all our projects you pushed me to be a better researcher, and a better manager. We were partners; we celebrated little project wins. We moaned over projects that resurrected long after being put to bed. Oh how I wish we could have gone on that two-week US fieldwork trip together. We could have added US road tripping to our list of memories.

I loved you. Though I did not love your combining white wine and lemonade at first. But like everything else about you, I warmed up to it, and it grew on me. Your music especially, because I could feel you poured your heart into it.

I loved you. I loved how you would light up the room with your vibrance and energy, and yet could still make each one of us in the same room feel important to you. Because you made it a point to make us feel important to you. In the process, and through your lifetime, you created such a great impact on us and our lives.

You were very much loved, Nicky. We feel the void without you now. Yes, for now it is goodbye… until the next time we would meet again.

My heart hurts. My head hurts. I'm wrecked.

I would never have imagined in a million years how attached I would be to you, not after the gulf that had built between us. And now here I am, feeling like a part of my heart, my soul, left on that airplane with you.

I don't believe in soulmates. But I am willing to concede that we just, fit. Our hands, our bodies, our thoughts, our desires. Well, almost all our desires. And that dose of realism is enough to bring us out of the momentary blissful fairy tale bubble.

I will have to live with having this part of my life be tinged with parts of you. Your scent on my jacket. Your laughter in my ears. Your disdain for the terrible English weather when I'm out in the rain.

I don't know what my heart will be like from now on. And I wonder if I should have just not allowed it to happen in the first place in order to protect my heart. So that I could live a life without the existence of your soul.

I think 2017 might have been one of my best years yet, and it isn’t because it was all good. I started off the year on the tail end of a diving trip. Now, here I am, sitting in the lounge with the pattering of the rain against the window - yet another bout of crazy with the London weather. I’d ceased to make ambitious resolutions, but instead had opted for ‘life philosophies’ or ‘life mantras’. This year it had been ‘Do things that scare you’.

And I think I had been sufficiently ‘terrified’ in navigating 2017.

First quarter of the year was filled with marathon training for Nagoya. It was also the first time I’d been on a proper marathon training programme, having done my first one on the fly, and the second one was riddled with injury. I’m thankful to have found and been on Coached, which taught me to look at running differently. It wasn’t all about pace or pushing myself anymore, but about listening to my body and training smart. I did get tired of the forever rolling hills though, but the hard work paid off. In the lead-up to Nagoya, I got a PB of 2:19  for my half marathon, which I wasn’t even gunning for. I completed Nagoya with an official PB of 5:07, and an unofficial one of 4:58 (as I’d wasted 10 minutes at the loo with a gut bomb).

Learning point: Trust in the training, even with nutrition. I am now no longer dependent on gels like a security blanket.

I wish I could say that I rode on a post-marathon-PB high for the next couple of months, and ran my next few races well. Yet, when my sub-215 goal half marathon race came up, it was one of my darkest races. I had three friends running with me as my personal pacers, but I just couldn’t push through the heaviness I felt from 10k onwards. I remember I couldn’t find the emotional strength, and instead felt ‘emotional darkness’. I could not finish with joy. 

Learning point: Five races in four months was way too much, so this year, I’m cutting back.

I turned to trail running to recuperate emotionally, mentally - to breathe life back into my running soul. In the process, I’d signed up for my first trail race, and went into it with no goals, no expectations, except to emerge injury-free and not sobbing my eyes out. That day was my first ever DNF, but it was Definitely Not Failure. I made it to the highest peak in the course - 1825m, and I didn’t get injured, although the many downhills did scare the crap out of me and stressed me out. 

Learning point: Now that you’ve attempted a hilly jungle, and know you don’t enjoy it, choose a different type of trail route the next time - forests, woods, flat grass, rather than hilly jungles.

The move away from road races and dropping training runs to three times a week also meant exploring other types of fitness. I went back to the ETL Fit Fam, and did weekly bootcamp and PT training. Running was straightforward, but strength training was challenging. There were days I felt was ‘one step forward, two steps back’, where box jumps were terrifying, days I felt the body just didn’t want to go anymore, days I didn’t believe I was seeing progress. But oh, how wonderful it felt when I could do two-minute wall-sits, one-minute planks, and beast mode with the ropes.

Learning point: You are stronger than you would believe.

Third quarter of the year threatened to pull me back into the spiral of darkness, defined by uncertainty and a lot of anxiety. I didn’t know how to cope with that. ‘Balance’ was something that somehow ceased to exist in my dictionary. It was a struggle, affecting my relationship with food, my body, my sense of worth, my identity. I had let myself be defined by running races, and when the season was over, and I didn’t have RD pacing duties, I felt... like I was swimming endlessly in the ocean without a glimpse of the shore. I had to really make myself embrace whatever good days that came by. And then never let them go because these moments are what would be my life raft.

Learning point: Claim the victories, no matter how ‘small’ they might seem.

This year taught me to cut myself some slack, to not strive for perfection all the time. Life is hard as it is, it doesn’t help if I make it harder for myself. I’ve had to learn to accept what I cannot change, to let go a lot more, and to believe. Believe in the goodness of people, believe in the orchestration of the universe, believe in miracles, believe in a far greater purpose than what my human mind could even begin to conceivably imagine. I could not have gotten through this year without the people who love, encourage, and support me, and above all, the greatest love - my God, my rock, my King.

“I will build my life upon Your love It is a firm foundation. I will put my trust in You alone And I will not be shaken.”

So this 2018, I just want to continue to trust and believe in His love, no matter when I feel unworthy. And through His love, I hope to be His light for others. 

December. Christmas. Almost the end of 2017.

The past month has been a whirlwind - a really intense whirlwind. While the festive season in the lead-up to Christmas has been really welcoming to take the mind (and the body) off the cold, it’s also been really busy and bordering on stressful. There were Christmas socials, parties, get-togethers, and being surrounded by decadence and indulgences all the time. The festive season kicked off with a Christmas social with London City Runners, and I really got a taste of how much people can drink and stay up / out here. I had run an LSD early that morning, and didn’t manage to take an afternoon nap. So by the time 10pm came around, after a 3-course dinner and five drinks, I was ready to call it a night. But people were still, “Mingle! Mingle!” Still, however exhausting it had been for an #introvertforlyfe like me, I’m glad I went out of my comfort zone, and put myself out there. And now I have some semblance of a running ‘family’!

Second Christmas party of the season was our Kadence Christmas Social! It wasn’t an afternoon of activities like what we did in Kadence Singapore. But we did have Secret Santa, pre-dinner Prosecco, and then we headed off to Glitterball! It’s sort of like a pop-up event, where several companies book out tables, and there’s an open bar with unlimited alcohol, a three-course dinner, acrobatic acts as entertainment, and a dance floor to let loose! I had initially braced myself for a crazy night of debauchery (not from our office, of course! We are cool and wholesome heh). But it was surprisingly milder than I thought. Still a lot of fun with lots of people dancing, but no drunken craziness. Phew!

Other fringe Christmas events we had was Lisa’s MME, where we made our own mini Christmas trees to place on our desks, to get in the festive mood. And our Christmas Jumper and Charity Bake Sale Day, where we would make a donation of 2 quid to wear a Christmas Jumper, and bring baked goods to share, with the proceeds going to charity. It was the first time I baked something, and had a good response to them! I’m going to make baking more of a thing now!

It was also the first time I’d had an Advent Calendar to open, and even Wens-Tea in the last week of work was Christmas themed, where we had Christmas turkey sandwiches!

And Christmas isn’t really Christmas without trips to Christmas markets, with copious amounts of mulled wine and Bailey’s hot chocolate!

The festivities hadn’t even officially begun, but the feasting has. Especially with so. many. minced. pies. Coming to London, I knew I was going to battle one of my biggest demons - gaining weight - remnants of which still lingered after leaving Flamingo London in 2013. I knew people here eat sweets and chocolates and buttery pastries and bread all the time, so I made sure I was more adequately prepared this time than I was the last time. I sought out running groups, I bought myself a Frame card to go for strength and cardio classes when it got too cold to run outside. And then I started counting calories again. And from there, I not only started counting calories in, I was also occupied with counting calories out, and to make sure that my net was large enough. It started to become exhausting, especially when running here was getting too cold to enjoy anything more than 40 minutes, and my heart rate remains too low to have bigger numbers of calories burned. When I ended up crying one night after a run around Clapham Common, stressed that I had eaten almond croissants but only expended 250 calories, that the old ‘head knowledge’ clicked back in - “What’s the point if you’re unhappy?”

December is already a stressful enough time of the year, I didn’t need to be so hard on myself. I needed to cut myself some slack. I stopped keying in my food intake on 20th December. I knew I would not be able to focus on what’s ultimately more important - loving myself, loving the people I was spending time with, loving the food I’m eating - if I was stressed about it half the time.

So yes, I had a wonderful Christmas. Lunch was lovingly prepared by Kelvin and James. And yes, it was decadent and rich, but how often do I get to eat French cheeses, and roast goose with parsnips and potatoes roasted in goose fat, and white chocolate and strawberry pudding, and Lindor chocolate? Not very often. And especially with friends, over Christmas? Not often at all.

Christmas dinner was Chinese food sharing style with Pamy, Amos, and Walter. I had not had Chinese food in the 7 weeks I’d been here, and of course, Chinatown was the only part of London that was not shut down. My heart longed for bakchormee and bak kut teh and char siew and roast pork belly though. Can someone transport me some please???

No matter that December was a stressful, tough month. I am thankful that on my fourth Christmas Day away from home, I was able to go to church and worship God freely (although it took a 50-minute harrowing cycling trip, which I will never do again), I had more than enough to eat on my plate, and I didn’t spend it alone.

Until the next post, which will probably be pretty soon, seeing as it’ll be a reflection on 2017 and it’s almost the end of 2017!

It’s my fourth weekend here in London, and in some ways, it still feels surreal that I am living my London dreams, seven years in the making. There have been fleeting moments in the past several years, in my childish impatience, to want to pack my bags, go to London and do anything and that i would make it work. Now, having gone through the tediousness of UK admin (and my visa was quite a straightforward one too!), I’m glad I didn’t give in to that naivete. My transfer and settling in here had been intense. The day I landed from Singapore, I had two house viewings scheduled and several more lined up through the week. I was caught in a place where I wanted to make sure I found a really good flat with lovely housemates, and taking the time to find that, but I also needed to find somewhere rather quickly because everything depended on having a proof of address. By the end of my first week I had gone to see thirteen flats. And each one felt like a job interview because it’s not just you liking the flat, the other flatmates / landlord have to like you too. 

In the end I decided on a flat in Clapham Common with two lovely flatmates, one of whom is the landlady. It checked off all my boxes:

Close to a park or river for running

Close to the Tube station

Minimal transfers for my work commute

Not more than two other flatmates

Not a student / party house

Live-in or very involved landlord

No agents

And for an added bonus: I live with a cat too!

I really love my room and my flatmates!

Clapham is also a really vibrant, up-and-coming neighbourhood with a lot of bars, restaurants, cafes and shops on the high street. I feel like I don’t ever need to go into central London - especially the cray Oxford Street area - much!

I love how residential it is on the street where I live, and yet it’s not too far from the all the main stuff going on on the high street.

We have a cinema.

Nearby Northcote Road where I do almost all my shopping.

Best part is Clapham Common, for running!

Work-wise, I came at a really good time. The UK office is busy with the pre-Christmas rush, and having someone that could just hit the ground running, take up, and lead projects helps a lot. I like that because we’re still the same company, the way projects are run are more or less the same, with the difference being the type of clients and projects! In the past month I’ve done / am still doing:

A beer positioning study, which really gave me some fascinating learnings on the pub and drinking culture here. They go by ‘rounds’, and people are expected to buy each other ‘rounds’ (”Oh hey, this is my round now. What would you like to drink?”). They also perceive the more foreign the beer, the more premium it is. I personally would never place Tsingtao in the ‘premium’ bucket.

A usage and attitudes study talking to key business decision makers in Latin America, on seeking consultative advice for their companies.

A product concept evaluation and development study with vets on pet healthcare. This one is going to be interesting because it’s quantitative and it’s a pricing study. One of the outputs would be a price simulator tool that our client can use to assess the impact of price changes in their products, in comparison with their competitors.

A more artsy, creative project, to curate stories of how business professionals use news and information in their daily lives - professional and personal - and to show the critical role of news and information in their careers. The final output would be a video, which we hope would be similar to this one by Spotify.

And one that’s upcoming, a positioning study with dairy farmers and veterinarians, to evaluate some product concepts and messaging. I would be conducting the interviews for this one, which is completely new and exciting because I’ve never spoken to a farmer before! I wish it was a face-to-face interview - can you imagine me on a dairy farm?!

On the social front, I’ve been incredibly lucky to have people whom I already know, to hang out with, and make it just a little less lonely. And I’ve also had people who come to London to visit! Thank you Rachel-Kim, Holly, Kelvin, Mark, Joash, Jasper, Nurul, and Maggie!

December will be a really fun and exciting month because it’s Christmas and there are parties and get-togethers, and beautiful lights, and carols by candlelight. It will be busy, so I hope I will still be able to put time in to upload photos and write.

My race season for the year ended with all the toughness that a Cameron Ultra Trail could hand me. I had already battled a string of less-than-ideal A races, none of which I managed to hit the goal I’d set. But at the end of each race, I cried it out, reflected, and just looked ahead to the next one.

Nagoya Marathon: No sub-5, but got a PB. Look forward to Eco Run HM.

Eco Run HM: No sub-215, no PB. Look forward to trails and Cameron.

Cameron 30k: DNF, but what do I look forward to now?

This is why I’m still processing and trying to get over the disappointment of this race. I realise that one of my coping mechanisms has been to just look ahead to the next race. Without the next race, I know I’d lose motivation, wallow in self pity, emotionally binge est, and let myself slip into the downward rabbit hole spiral. I remember feeling dangerously close to this after Gold Coast last year and I wanted to stretch my recovery from two weeks to three weeks to a month. But then GE pacing came along and that was what got me out of the emotional rut - especially knowing I would not be doing it for myself.

I’m counting on London to help; it’s the city where I first fell in love with running. Until then, I just have to hang in there. Take a break from constantly running. Be ok with doing other fitness stuff with Lucy and the ETL Fitfam. Make the most of my remaining time to enjoy running with my running family, many of whom had sent me so much love and encouragement. And yes, eventually go back and hit the trails.

“Never failing may be good but tasting 'failure’ is what pushes you to go even higher." 

I made it to 17km. I made it to the highest peak in the course, 1825m. I didn’t get lost or injured. And surprise, I didn’t end up hating trail.

At the end of a training session a few months ago, my personal trainer asked me about the stretch marks on my arms. I told her I was very fat during my early teenage years. She hardly believed me.

Growing up, I was a very skinny and gangly kid. And then, puberty hit, and it seemed to all disappear overnight. I never became skinny again. 

My struggle with my body seemed foreign to me at first. The body was never an issue before I became a teenager. Sure, kids would compare weight when it came to height and weight measurement, but I always thought that, because I was taller than everyone else, I didn’t have anything to worry about. I could justify me being ‘heavier’ than most people. In fact, it got quite ‘competitive’ to see who was taller. And my attitude to the body was simple and dichotomous. You either are of ‘healthy weight’ or ‘unhealthy weight’.

It was when the curves started appearing, though, that I started to scrutinize the change in the way I looked. I became more acutely aware of where weight was distributed across my body. It bothered me that I was carrying more weight in the lower half of my frame, when I thought the whole point of puberty was to grow breasts and become more womanly. And I didn’t know how to really categorize myself. I was tall but I wasn’t lean. I had curves, but I wasn’t typically curvy. And it didn’t help that in Singapore, I felt I didn’t fit in because I didn’t see anyone else who looked like me.

This led to many battles, fights, and frustrations in my relationships - with my then-boyfriend, with food, with my sanity, with my self-esteem. Even when I thought I was winning the tiny battles, the ghosts of Endless Scrutiny, Criticism, and Condemnation would sneak up on me, and linger in my mind. And they would continue to stay there, ebbing, sometimes even growing, for the next decade of my life.

In secondary school, I lost a bunch of weight (20kg), and I managed to get my freedom from TAF Club. That feeling of your school uniform hanging off your shoulders, being very roomy around the waist - I felt that I had accomplished this amazing feat. But my old friends, Endless Scrutiny and Criticism didn't really allow me to celebrate for long. And because I didn't lose all that weight in the healthiest of ways, a few months later, I felt miserable again. I didn’t want to wear anything that showed off my arms because the stretch marks showed off more prominently than ever. I didn't look satisfactorily ‘thin’, I just looked unhealthy.

I went through another bout of weight loss in my final year of university after a breakup that happened around the same time as when I was working on my honours thesis. I hadn’t meant to lose weight, I just forgot to eat. I hadn’t realized it, but I had lost 5kg within 2 months. It only really hit me how much weight I lost when I was getting dressed for a party and everything looked big on me. You would think I’d be elated because it seemed an effortless achievement. But no, at that moment, I broke down. I sat on the floor, bawled because my favourite size 12 dress was too loose on me, and almost never made it to the party. 

At that point I was the smallest I’d been, but just because I was at my smallest, it didn’t mean I was at my happiest. It did appear that way though – I thought that maybe I was happy. And the feeling was amplified when I went to live in London for a few months. I felt satisfied with myself because I could see people who looked like me – there, there was a wider range of shapes – my shape too! There was happiness in finally being able to believe that I belonged, that I fit in. The elation disappeared when I came back to Singapore. I didn’t realise I’d gained most of my old weight back again. And I felt severely disappointed. I felt that I’d let myself down with my lack of self-control, my lack of discipline, and my lack of care for the way I look. It’s ironic how I berated myself for not “loving” my physical body enough to not get carried away. In actuality, without truly loving myself for who I am, and not how I look, or how well I fit in wherever I happened to be living, the ‘happiness’ I thought I’d felt in that span of 3 months could only have been temporary.

9 years of perpetual struggle, swaying from one extreme to another, was exhausting me physically and mentally. No matter that I lost weight, became smaller, I realise I was still the same person as when I was a teenager. Endless Scrutiny, Criticism, and Condemnation were still inhabiting my mind, creating turmoil in my spirit. “You could have been perfect if you had just kept up your discipline, if you had just said no to desserts, if you had just run more, run further, if you had just not been so complacent.” I felt like I had slid all the way back to square one. So I turned to one of the constants that I knew could bring me a sense of freedom. I put on my running shoes and started running to try and find that inner peace and make myself feel better again. 

In my running journey, it was when I crossed the finish line at my first full marathon that something broke through. It then became hugely important to me that I realise I’m able to do great things with my body. Even when I hadn’t been accepting it for the way it was, my body still carried me through to cross that finish line. I was not at my fittest or my leanest, and it was something I never thought I could do. But my imperfect body can – and did – achieve something huge. Now running has become my life, an inherent part of who I am. It has become a way to accept myself and what my body can do. In running, I feel both invincible and vulnerable. I celebrate the records and the achievements, but I am also confronted by the losses and injuries and setbacks. And being able to bounce back from these is what makes running so much more than just a “weight loss method” for me. People see my training logs / posts and they might think it’s easy, that runners are “special people” imbued with a rare sense of grit, determination, and discipline. But in all honesty, running is my lifeline. The people I run with, my running family, they’re my lifeline. They keep me grounded, they help me look beyond running as a means to lose or maintain weight, and instead they inspire me to continuously challenge what my body can do. The moment I feel like letting myself spiral down the rabbit hole, they pull me out (and then they make me run hill repeats). 

I'm not at the end of my journey, and it's still not easy. Sometimes, when I least expect it, thoughts of not looking like a "typical runner", threaten to break me. But one of my running inspirations, Mirna Valerio challenges that mindset. When you're 250 pounds and can run ultra-marathons, it shows all the more that great things can be achieved by any body type or shape. The people who inspire, support, and encourage me – they’re not all elite runners or super lean either, but that doesn’t make them any less awesome. I love that secretly, we’re actually just one huge makan club. I mean, when our running routes and start / end points are determined by where we can eat after the run, it clearly shows our priorities. 

Do I love myself just the way I am now? Well, I’m still working on it! For Christmas, my sister gave me a Reminder Band, and it says ‘Be Kind’ on it. It is a reminder to always be kind to myself, as I often don’t do, especially when it comes to my body. A reminder to not always give it a hard time. A reminder for progress not perfection. 

In the meantime, I choose to focus on the positives. This body climbed a mountain and a volcano crater. This body ran two marathons, and is about halfway training for a third. This body can run hill repeats, rolling hills, and Marina Barrage loops three days a week.

And when I’m training for my first ultra, there will be days where I’ll feel like my body has been hit by a truck. But this body isn’t quitting.

Do not be deceived: “Evil company corrupts good habits.” (1 Corinthians 15:33)

The righteous should choose his friends carefully, for the way of the wicked leads them astray. (Proverbs 12:26)

As an INFJ, I yearn for authenticity and sincerity. Trust and loyalty are very important to me, and I take these very seriously. I’m quite a private person, and if I’ve opened up to you on anything sensitive or deep, it means I’ve considered you as someone I can place my trust in. I don’t readily share my feelings or thoughts, which means changes in my friendship circles takes some time for me to adjust and get used to.

Really, the way to be counted among my ‘true friends’ is to be authentic. 

And once you’ve gained my trust, and I count you as my friend, I will be the most loyal and supportive friend to you that I can be. I will be there to encourage you, to motivate you, to help nurture your growth. I will care until my heart hurts, and sometimes I will care too much. Quality trumps quantity, and there have been people that I ended up distancing myself from because their motives are less than trustworthy.

Two years ago, I arrived in Shanghai for the last bit of my year-long STRAT program, to be based in the Flamingo Shanghai office for three months.

Two years later, I returned.

Back to the city that bore much chaos and confusion for me. A city that I did not immediately like; in fact I hated my first two months there. A city that awakened my transient nature. A city that forced me to question my desires, my goals, my life. 

The city where I began walking down the road to the end of seven years of plans, hopes, dreams, frustrations, and compromises.

Shanghai had been a turning point for me. Being there illuminated paths and crossroads I had never considered before. Or maybe paths I had been afraid to veer onto. Two years ago, I would like to think I had been content and happy. In hindsight, I think I was comfortable. Who I had been two years ago was someone who was willing to ignore the peripheral signs of a relationship that wasn’t thriving, just so I could escape from my own fractured family. I was caught up with the idea of marriage and starting anew, making a family of my own that would be different from the one I came from. I realise I was less discerning about the person I was about to enter marriage with. A family - any family - I felt was better than mine, even if that family was just as fractured.

Yes, the girl before Shanghai March 2014 was a different one. I wanted to just get through the three months, come home to my fiancé, and then put our wedding plans into place. Shanghai changed me. I felt it at the end of my three months; Tim knew it too. I didn’t want stability anymore. I wanted to be uncomfortable with my life. I didn’t want to just be content, never wanting to explore the other pages of our world. And yes, I told my fiancé I didn’t want to be married anymore, because I was “inherently too selfish to want to put anyone else above myself”.

I wanted to do my own thing.

For months after that, I accepted and retold this as the official narrative of the ending of our relationship. We were each heading in different directions, but I was the one who drove the sledgehammer into the relationship. I was the one who picked at the loose threads, and pulled and pulled until the whole fabric unraveled. I was the one who lit the match to the bonfire.

And I condemned myself for it. I felt that God was punishing me and giving more love to Tim when everything for him just simply worked out. He received prophecies, exciting new directions, a new partner. I, on the other hand, was left stumbling around in the dark, not knowing how to proceed, feeling stuck in the midst of the murkiness. I was struck and burdened by the belief that God loved Tim more because I had deliberately caused him sadness, even though rationally I knew it wasn’t true. 

Returning to Shanghai, being there this past week, those sentiments, those dark thoughts bubbled just beneath the surface and threatened to spill over. I was surprised at how I could still feel affected by seemingly small moments - the xiao long bao place near my old apartment, the restaurant on the Bund where we celebrated our last anniversary, the sheng jian baos we both loved. It was surreal, and for a moment, I thought I would be brought back down the rabbit hole, back to two years ago, back to feeling stuck.

I needed to pull myself out of it and not allow myself to go back down that underground spiraling maze.

I’m not exactly sure how I came to this realisation, but just as soon as I started thinking about the good, I also remembered the moments when it was just so bad. The moments when my warning bells had gone off but I chose not to heed them because I had been in the haze of faux-joy.

I remember the times when I naively went with whatever plans he had made even if it meant he put my needs aside. I remember the times I weighed my happiness against his and chose the outcome that weighed heavier in his favor. I remember the times I would put myself in his shadow so that he could come off as the more exciting, interesting, intelligent person, the centre of attention. I remember the times I was a follower, and not an equal.

And I remember the times I let myself be put aside when I was no longer needed, when someone better came along.

So yes, I had been selfish in my desire to finally head in the direction I felt was true to my heart and at the same time didn’t feel it was fair to put the marriage on hold while I had it figured out. Yes, I had been selfish in almost singlehandedly ending the relationship.

But the narrative doesn’t end there anymore.

Yes, all those amazing Godly things happened to him and led him to this glorious destiny that God had in store for him. But in that journey, there had been hurts too. Reconciliation failed on so many levels because I allowed him to define, on his terms, what our friendship would look like, and how it would benefit him. I wasn’t allowed to protect my heart because, again, “that would be selfish of me”. How could I make this decision solo?

I had to face reality. Without the fog of love that I had enveloped myself in, I realise that underneath the veneer is someone whom I actually wouldn’t be friends with. Friends don’t hurt repeatedly. Friends don’t discard friends when the time proves convenient to do so. Most importantly, friends don’t catalyse and allow for bridges to be burnt.

I’ve constantly revisited this question: Do I want him to seek forgiveness? The truth is, I’m afraid that I might find we’re past the stage of forgiveness, perhaps a case of too little, too late. Maybe I should have spoken up more for myself, when things weren’t okay with the way I was being treated, so that a precedent couldn’t be set. Because it led to our fragile friendship being perceived through the same distorted lens of our broken relationship. And then we hurt each other in the same ways all over again. 

But I know eventually that forgiveness would have to come. I just don’t know when, or how. Perhaps it first comes with an awakening. And for me, at least, that awakening has come.

"You can be a good person with a kind heart and still say no." —D.K. aka cloudkiddo #ThingsToNeverForget artwork by Erika Kuhn