Tag: writer

Today, I feel content. I may not have checked every box on my to-do list or been super productive, but I’ve done enough. And sometimes, enough is all we need.

This weekend was a reminder of how joy can sneak back into our lives in the most unexpected ways. On Sunday, I met a close friend after fifteen years. You’d think time and distance might change childhood friendships, but it was as if no time had passed at all. There was no awkwardness, no pauses—just endless conversations flowing from one topic to another. It took me back to those carefree days when my biggest worry was passing high school with good grades.

Later that day, I connected with two other close friends over a video call. Even though we weren’t together in person, seeing their faces and their expressions brought me so much comfort. Back when we worked together, they made the tough days bearable. We had long venting sessions that always ended with laughter, and for a moment, everything felt lighter. That call reminded me of those times, and it filled me with gratitude.

I’m carrying an overdose of happiness from the weekend, and I don’t know how long it will last—but for now, I’m holding onto it. I’ve decided not to give away my happy days to worries that can’t be solved. Today, I am happy. And that is enough.

This morning I woke up with pain sharper than it’s been in weeks. For a moment, I panicked—was I slipping backward again? The thought drained me. All the hope and motivation I’ve been clinging to since my diagnosis seemed to vanish in that instant. I couldn’t help but ask myself: What’s the point of all the pills, the careful eating, the effort—if I’m not getting better?

I never imagined that “being normal” would become something I yearn for. I hate the limp. I hate the fear of falling. I hate rushing to a chair every ten minutes because standing any longer feels impossible. And being obese makes the weight of it all heavier—not just physically, but emotionally. I worry people look at me and think, She’s fat, of course she has health problems.

Part of me knows these thoughts live mostly in my head. I know not everyone will understand my situation, and I can’t expect them to. But even so, the fear of judgment lingers, and it weighs me down.

That’s why I’m writing this today. Putting my emotions into words helps me release them instead of bottling them up. It’s my way of lightening the load. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up still in pain—but hopefully I’ll also wake up with a little more hope, a little more strength, and a reminder that even on the hard days, I’m still moving forward.

There are days that feel strangely heavy, even though nothing much happens. Today was one of those days for me.

The morning began with a power outage, which meant no work could get done. Truthfully, even if the electricity had been there, my motivation wasn’t. Instead, chose the ever “productive habit” of endless scrolling of YouTube shorts. It ate up hours of my day but do I remember anything I saw? Absolutely not!

Later, I found myself browsing through stationery websites, adding pens, notebooks, and organizers to my cart. It felt like I was about to make a purchase, but deep down I knew it wasn’t because I needed them. It was boredom disguised as desire. Thankfully, a moment of clarity struck before checkout. I abandoned the cart, realizing it was just impulse shopping waiting to happen.

Now I am drained. Not from work, not from effort, but from the doing “nothing” all day. I am exhausted. and all I want now is the comfort of a warm blanket & soft pillows.