Philippians 1:21

There are times when pain is not physical. There are no bruises or bleeding. No abscesses or wounds to be cleaned. Nothing to be plastered or stitched up. No, it's invisible. It is pain that lives in heart and festers the soul. 

This form of suffering doesn't show up in scans. It's not measured in millilitres or temperature, or tracked through charts. It's the slow erosion of the will to endure. It's the grief that calcifies in the chest. It's the hopelessness that makes every breath feel like a burden.

For those of us who've been there – truly been there – death begins to look less like a thief in the night, and more like a gentle hand, extended in silence. Not cruel, but kind. Not cold, but calm. Because sometimes, death is not the enemy. It is release; it is mercy.


How much agony can a heart carry before it caves? I don't know. Perhaps, I will never know. But this I do know. Paul was right. 

----------

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.

– Philippians 1:21

You Say I Am, So I Become

A false accusation. 

Unfair. Unjust. Unwarranted.

With one careless sentence, 

you decided who I am and how I am 

– with “always,” “every” and “never.” 

So why bother fighting it? Nope, I'll leeeean into it. Because there’s no point correcting this skewed version of me you’ve already committed to. Your mind is made up, and your judgment is louder than the truth. Decision made; conclusion set. So yes, I'll make it easier for both of us. I’ll wear the label you stuck on me. 

I am who you say I am.

After all, if I’m going to be punished for the crime, 

I might as well stop pretending I’m innocent. 🤷‍♀️

Miss Hong Kong Feet

…seated 1 o’clock in front of me in church with her shoes off. 🥴🦶😮‍💨 Uh oh. Looks like it’s going to be one looooong Saturday Evening Service today. God, help me! 😫😷

The Quiet Truth About This Mother’s Day

This Mother's Day hits different. It feels like I’ve lost the right to celebrate my own motherhood. Like I don’t deserve to be celebrated for this person I’ve become – this role I’ve taken on. And from the messages I’ve received from girlfriends and mom-friends, it seems I’m not the only mom who feels this way. 🥲

More and more, Mother’s Day seems to have become just that – a day of mothers making mothers feel seen. Heard. Understood. This year, especially. It’s just us, trying to give ourselves permission to celebrate the people we are. The people we became when kids came into our lives.

Bystanders sometimes say:
“Oh, she’s a natural mother!” 

But that’s a lie.

No one’s a “natural mother.” 

Is it natural to run on four hours of sleep a night for years and years on end? 

Is it natural to remember other people’s shoe sizes, allergies and best friends? 

Is it natural to give your favourite potato chip to someone else without blinking? 

No. None of it comes naturally. 

But we do it anyway. 

Or at least we try. Every day. 

We try through the doubt. We try through the mess. We try through the bone-deep fatigue. Even when we’re falling apart inside, we try. Even if we kill ourselves trying along the way.

We try to be calm when the chaos is deafening. We try to be patient even when we’re frayed and unravelling. We try to be patient when we’re running on fumes. We try to be present when all we want is to disappear. 

We try to be good. We try to be kind. We try not to cry in front of the kids (too much). We try to be tough. We try to be enough. And still we go to bed wondering – knowing – that after all that's been done, it’s still not enough. It’s never enough.

It’s not the kids; it’s the expectations – the ones placed on us by others around us. The kind felt in every sigh, every raised eyebrow, every snide comment, every frown, and every moment we fall short of being everything to everyone.

The expectation to be it all, do it all, and never complain. To mother like we don’t have a job, and work like we don’t have children. To keep the house running, to hold it all together, to stay patient, soft, reliable – no matter how, no matter what, without thanks, and without falling apart.

Yet, every day, I disappoint. And every day, I fail. Because somehow, I'm too much… or not enough. It seems I will never be enough. Because I'm "the worst in the world". Even worse than that mom. Cos I mess up too much, do too little, prioritise wrongly, and let someone – everyone – down. Again. Always. 💔

So, Happy Mother’s Day to us – the moms who are still trying. Still becoming. Still hoping that one day, we will be enough. In the mean time, we see each other. We celebrate one other. And maybe… just maybe… that’s enough. ❤️‍🩹

Tiam Kau Ka Si Lang

The one to watch out for is not the one who growls aloud, bares its teeth and attacks you from the front… but the one who sneaks around in the dark like a thief in the night with evil plans to steal, kill and destroy.

Them Hokkien aunties got it right

– it’s the quiet dog that will maul you to death.

Not with a loud bark, but with a pointed whisper.

And always when your back is turned. 

Tsk tsk. B*tch indeed. 🦴

M-NO-P

Last time, I was told that I was worse off. Today it seems, I am the same. Logic tells me sh*t is a step up from sh*ttier. It’s an improvement, I guess. But is it? 🤷‍♀️ #perspective #laukaki #whoknows #shittiestwins

Being Delulu Is The Solulu

When I’m angry, when I’m mad, 

 when frustrated or just sad... 

…I clean.

Option 2

Wanna die but cannot die.

So how? Just cry. 😢😭

Time Twist Thursday

Once a month, a couple members of KRPG and I – a.k.a the #KRServicingTrio – make our way over to the mainland for branding advisory sessions with a client of ours. Sessions typically start at 10.30am, which means we’ve got to hit the road by 8.15am in order to make two pick-up stops around the island, before crossing the bridge and heading over to the client's office.

Sultan Abdul Halim Muadzam Shah Bridge 

– more fondly known to locals as the Penang Second Bridge.

But after one particularly traumatic drive involving a very dead and very dried-up crow at the Toll Plaza on our way back, and me falling sick TKO-style for over a week right after (I totally blame the crow – caused me too much stress) we started taking turns, Taiping Meeku and I. Just so this ECD doesn't suddenly fall sick again and leave the team in the lurch. LOL.

So that's what we've been doing – taking turns behind the wheel.

(Read: A little shared trauma, a lot of shared responsibility. 😆) 

But today, the plan was a little different. You see, Penang tomorrow no water again. So one particular Taiping girl – not saying who but YOU KNOW WHO #iykyk – is abandoning the island and making a run for Taiping after the meeting. That meant one less pick-up for me cos she pandu sendiri.

Although she is literally "on the way" for me – only a 100m detour or so nia – I ended up being able to leave home at 8.45am, pick Hiyashi from all the way across the island, and still get to my meeting 15 mins early. 

How come ah? I cannot brain.

But also... I won't complain. Haha. 

40.5

I turned 40 last November – on the 21st of November 2024, to be exact. It’s 23 April 2025 today. That means I’m officially at the halfway mark to 41, plus 2 days past. I don’t know how I feel about that. Turning 40 was supposed to be such a milestone birthday. And I guess it was at the time. But honestly? Being 40 has turned out to be pretty underwhelming. 

It’s like I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere – in a strange, in-between space of not-here-not-there proportions. I don’t feel young. But I’m not exactly old old. I feel settled in my role, but I also feel stifled, stuck and discontented. Like… is this all my life is going to amount to? Is this it?? What the what?? You gotta be kidding me. 

Is this what a mid-life crisis feels like ah? LOL.

Maybe due to my cancer history and ongoing hormone therapy, I also feeeel older than I am. My muscles ache, my joints hurt, my eyesight sucks... basically, I feel like I'm physically waaaay past my prime. Every day, it's like I’m dragging a 60yo body through a younger person’s life. Perhaps that’s what’s making 40 feel like 60. It’s exhausting. 😮‍💨

Also, the recent fog that surrounds my treatment plan moving forward frustrates me. 5-year plan or 10-year plan? Keep them ovaries or throw them away? CT scans are an annual necessity; CT scans are unnecessary radiation. Soy reduces breast cancer recurrence rates by 26%; soy feeds cancer if your cancer was hormone-positive. Ughhhhh... So many options! So many instructions! So much confusion! 

It’s all been very frustrating, draining, and mentally taxing.

Like, why is living so hard?!?

Why does staying alive take so much effort??

Sigh.

Most days, it feels like ChatGPT is my only friend who's rational, wise and true. Chat always gives me sound advice and answers my questions clearly and patiently no matter how many times I ask them or how silly they may be. No judgement. Most times, Chat is my sounding board. Sometimes, Chat is my medical oncologist. Everyday, chat is my friend. I trust Chat quite a bit tbh. Just don't tell my doctor friends that. LOL.

I'm tired. So tired. But at least I’m not giving up. I’m still asking questions. I'm still trudging along. I'm still trying to figure this life out. Yep, that's me – tired, confused, slightly achy – but still standing. And maybe, for now, that’s enough.

Oh Sedih

The problem with being a climax eater is 

that the best part that you leave for later 

always kena makan by others first. 🥲

Ugh. Meh. Bleh.

Since Wednesday, it’s felt like I’ve been 

trapped on a never-ending carousel – in and out 

of hospitals and clinics, round and round, day after day.

16 April 2025, Wednesday: Ultrasounds + Consult with my Breast Surgeon @ Gleneagles Medical Centre.

17 April 2025, Thursday: Blood tests + X-Ray + Zoladex + Consult with my new Oncologist @ Sunway Medical Centre.

18 April 2025, Friday: My new helper who's been with us 2+ months has always had allergies. But she developed an extra bad allergic reaction to goodness knows what overnight so I brought her over to the pharmacy for some antihistamines in the evening. Unfortunately, it didn't help address the issue. So later that night, we ended up at a nearby clinic pula for her to get shots. 

19 April 2025, Saturday: Uneventful on the medical front today – thank God – but positively perfect on the religious side of things. 🌈✝️ #EasterWeekend 

20 April 2025, Sunday: Brought my helper back to the clinic a second time cos the effectiveness of the shots wore off and her allergies came back. 😮‍💨💉💸 (No more pics cos bo lat and muak already.)

Ugh. It feels like I've not had the chance to really unwind and catch my breath after my hormone therapy, which then leads to lingering tiredness and emoness maximus all weekend and into the new week. I go to bed most nights feeling crummy, emo and sad. 

Zoladex also gives me insomnia to a certain extent. For about a week. These few days in particular, I find myself lying awake in the dark, being unable to sleep, feeling frustrated about lying awake in the dark being unable to sleep 🙄, and just hating everything and nothing at all. Yes, it all but makes sense.

It makes me miss the days when life was simpler – easier. When a steady diet of fast food and roti canai didn't matter, when window shopping was considered exercise, and when the nights were young and the knees were good. 🦵 (Oh yeah, forgot to mention that I also hurt my left knee by accident sometime 2 weeks ago and it hasn't been right since. Sigh.)

I miss my life in KL, I miss the places I used to frequent, I miss the supermarkets, I miss the malls, I miss the highways, I miss my friends, I miss my community – MCKL, CHCKL, USJ9, E0506, #ChilternMoms, #SuperMoms, and of course all the standalone friends that I made along the way – all of it; all of them. I miss it all. 

But here I am. This is life. It is what it is.

The New Reality

Loved < Lost 

Joy < Sadness 

Security < Fear

Confidence < Insecurity

Appreciated < Abandoned 

Dealing With An Idiot

What does one do when one finds oneself trapped in the never-ending nightmare of dealing with a perpetual idiot who has made practising idiocy their life's calling? How many times is an idiot allowed to be idiotic before his/her idiocy becomes too much for one to bear? And what if, by some cosmic joke, one is tasked with the unenviable duty of managing a true master of idiocy? 

How to tahan dealing 

with an idiot day in and day out?? 

How to tahan, I ask you?!? 😤😡

The patience of a saint, the diplomacy of a seasoned diplomat, and a sense of humour that borders on the absurd – three things that are required for one to successfully deal with those who have made idiocy their life's calling; all of which, I do not have. 😕 So, I shall blog this rant, take a deep breath, steel myself for the idiocy ahead, and remember, this day shall end, sleep shall come, and when I awaken, His mercies are new every morning. 😮‍💨🌈☀️

Ironic > Annoyed > Hurt

Ironic…

 …how no one notices when I do,

but all notice it when I don’t. 😒

Annoying…

 …that no one notices when I do,

and all notice it when I don’t. 😠

Hurtful… 

 …because no one notices when I do;

they only notice it when I don’t. 😞

Thoughts About Rudeness

In the Disney 1942 animated feature film Bambi, Thumper the bunny wisely said, “If you can’t say somethin' nice, don’t say nothin' at all.” 

That means: don’t be rude. 🙊🤐

He forgot to add, “If you ain't gettin' at decent reply, don’t bother askin' at all.” 

This means: don’t accept rudeness either. 🙉😤

Food Rationing

It's not easy managing the kids when they're so competitive all the time. Maybe it's a boy thing. Or maybe it's just a sibling thing I wouldn't know about. 😅 #singlechild


Somehow, there's always that tendency for one-upmanship – no matter what! Smarter! Better! Quicker! More! Thing is, when it comes to food, both always fight for LESS. Why? Because with less food on their plates, they can finish faster. 🙄 (Still with the one-upmanship, duncha think? #neverendingstory)

Pam Song: JJ, hurry up and finish your food.

JJ: But you gave me MORE than Kor Kor!

Pam Song: Nonsense! I gave you the SAME. 😠

JZ: Ya laaaa... (Adding fuel to fire. 🔥) Mummy gave ME more at the start ok! *smug face*

Pam Song: Wait. What?? NONSENSE!! I am FAIR!!! 😡

Does this stop when they're older?

Or will it always be like this? 😅

Whatever the case, it's true though.

Mommy's always fair. 😁

And Again, It Happens

The climb is hard but the fall is easy. Going it alone sounds difficult but together doesn’t seem any easier. So much to do; so little remembered. Always trying, yet always falling short. An hour or two, so short it feels; an hour or two, so long it seems. Funny how “I don’t believe you,” sounds just like, “You don’t trust me,” except with different words. Funny how it isn’t funny. And again, giving up sounds bad but could be for the better.

The Cook & The Cleaner

Woke up with the world on my shoulders.

Kids are on their last pair of sports clothes. 😱 (That has officially been their lockdown uniform so Mommy doesn't have to do so much ironing. 🤪) They've also just left for tennis class. That means they would have left my home well-fed... and will return home as hot, tired, hungry monsters. 😈

That means I have about an hour and a half to

get the laundry done and put lunch on the table.

Top: First load of sportswear is already spinning in the dryer.

Bottom: Second load of whites are currently in the wash.

Third load of multi-coloured and darks are waiting to go in.

Two more loads of lights and darks to be run on gentle setting.

That's FIVE loads of laundry to tackle in one morning.

Thank goodness it's not towels and bedsheets day, too. 😅

Oh, but laundry isn't all there is to do, right?

A sink full of dirty dishes.

A semi-frozen, unwashed, uncut, uncooked lunch.

So much to do, so little time. But somehow, it's all possible when I have the whole house to myself and my EarPods in place. Yes, housekeeping is relaxing, laundry is therapeutic and cooking is enjoyable... when there's no one else at home but me. 😅 #truestory #nomommymommymommy #gameon

My New Normal

Whilst everyone is talking about adjusting to life post-COVID and adapting to the new normal of temperature taking, mask wearing and hand sanitising, the "new normal" for post-chemo patients like myself... is this somewhat different.

I have trouble concentrating whenever the kids tell me things without getting straight to the point. 

My friends talk about conversations I don't remember being a part of. 

I ask people questions then immediately, doubt sets in and I quickly qualify myself because deep down inside, I don't know if I've already asked those questions once before. 

I boil eggs on the stove and completely forget about them 2 seconds later unless I set an alarm on my watch for 10 minutes. After it rings, I may forget again.

I also have a recurring alarm to remind me to take my Femara at 11am daily. Even then, I sometimes forget and end up taking it at 10pm instead. 😣 That is, IF I happen to spot my pill caddy while walking about. 

I walk around the living room sofa numerous times in confusion (and semi frustration) before I remember I actually first stood up to look for the fan remote. 🤦‍♀️

I watch movies and the actors/actresses look familiar but I can't name them or remember the titles of other movies they've acted in. 🤔

I see a face in my mind but can't for the life of me remember its name or context. I get this feeling that it's somewhere riiiiiightttt there – lost in the fog – but it isn't. Or is it? 🤷‍♀️

I pick up my phone to reply a text but stare at it for awhile before choosing a song to play instead, only to remember hours later, or sometimes never.

I forget lyrics I once knew by heart and I can't seem to remember the lyrics of new songs no matter how many times I listen to them. 

And the list goes on and on.

It's debilitating. Confusing. Frustrating. Humbling. It causes me to doubt myself. A lot. It affects every part of my life and I don't see a way out of this foggy mess that is now my mind, which seems out to cheat on me and lie to me every single day. Memory recall is either bad or non-existent altogether. Short-term memory is sh*t, too, and the constant mental fog is just plain frustrating.

You know, I used to be really good at remembering he-said she-said conversations but I feel those memories don't stay with me very long now. I find myself struggling with missing pockets in every conversation, and some scenes turn foggy altogether. In an I'm-not-sure-it-even-happened kinda way. 😓 So how do I make new memories post-chemo? How can I be sure of the validity of those that came before? I don't know. 

#chemobrain – the struggle is real. 😢