I always tend to overthink, oftentimes to my own detriment. Sometimes, rather most times, I would suppose that it isn’t personal but I also tend to take things very personally and assume the worst of everything when someone does something or some shit things happen. It’s not a very helpful way of thinking I know, and techniques such as CBT would probably help although knowing about it theoretically and being able to apply it practically are two different things.

That said, I know it also doesn’t serve me any good despite that I am aware of this overthinking tendency but am either unable to snap out of it or unwilling to put in the effort to do so because it involves a huge move of inertia. It has been an exhausting few months ever since COVID hit us. The isolation that comes as a free add on that nobody asked for, when we started the distancing measures that began with telecommuting, although initially a welcomed change but over a protracted period that got skewed when the distancing included social movements and interactions, took a massive toll.

For months, I’ve had reduced interaction with people beyond the superficialities of hi-bye/how’s the weather/how are you doing, with people I “socialise” with when I purchase food from them. For a period I couldn’t even meet my family or friends, and even now it’s harder to meet up with friends due to various reasons that included a renewed sense of priorities when people start to become more selective of how to spend their socialising time after the coronavirus situation that made us all rethink who are really worth spending time with perhaps? Living alone, I think even for someone who is used to being alone and need a lot of personal time, it’s becoming hard to bear when I start to get tired of talking to myself, that often is predated by triggers that are negative and get me into a monologue of tirade lashing out at God and people or things that are the triggering factors. There’s too much negative self talk and too much unhealthy and messy outbursts that only end up exhausting me even more. Whatever little interest I’ve had in day to day life, the tiny little bouts of fleeting joy, no longer seem to be enough or felt. Life just lost its meaning altogether, not that I’ve ever felt there was any in my life. As time drags on, each day just seem like any other and I just kept wishing I could leave for good. There’s no purpose worth going on for and nothing to live for or look forward to, no one for me to even look forward to seeing, meeting, talking to… what gets one going each day, to want to see the sun rise the next morning? As I stay stuck in places, physical and metaphorical, the sense of hopelessness continues to perpetuate and grow deep roots that further latch me to the sinking feeling of desolation. I cry out to be liberated and for a way out, an open door, but each passing day just seem to dim out the light a little more.

This morning as I woke and went about my usual routine of tidying up the room and making the bed, it came to a part where I came to the window to pull it shut. I stood looking out as a cool dawn breeze lightly floated in, carrying a crisp freshness of air as the sky began lightening. I glanced about and looked down at the rooftop terrace atop the multistory car park and wondered, ‘How painful would it be?’, ‘Would my heart really stop beating on my way down, or would I be conscious all the way till my body, or maybe my head, smashes against the hard concrete?’ These thoughts somehow just came so naturally but as I thought them, I couldn’t help but feel my eyes misting up.

Do I wish for something better to make the flame start to burn a little brighter, if there’s any to begin with? I don’t know. Why am I feeling so tired. How did I end up here like that? Why has it become this way?

Then… I also need to constantly remind myself and acknowledge that in life, things and people happen for seasons and reasons. Some things or people may seem to be fitting for a period, things that we may enjoy doing or love having and using, people whom we feel a kindred connection to like no other, yet when the season is over, there is no merit in hanging on and holding on to them. It’s an overused and stale cliche now to say how it is useful to “Marie Kondo” one’s life, things and surroundings and it includes everything even people. When people choose to stop engaging for whatever reasons, I need to tell myself it’s not personal and if upon early reflection it really isn’t due to anything wrong I’ve done then I should let go and quit hanging on desperately. Even if it means my already small and dwindling social circle or support network constricts even further it’s a veracity of life I have to accept and live with, and be grateful or happy when new ones pop up and come into my life, if they do. Life shouldn’t be able the size of this network and certainly it shouldn’t be that my own feeling of self worth hinges on it.


Is seven supposed to be a lucky number? I think in different cultures the magic number for luck differs. But I do recall ever coming across ‘lucky number 7’.

As usual, I am and have been in a funk. It somehow seems that I can never extricate myself from this pit that I have slipped into, even though I know that to people looking from the outside, there really probably isn’t anything wrong and that I just need to change my mindset or frame of thinking, and start being thankful for what I have in my life, or make the best of what I have.

I don’t know… if it’s something that I will ever be capable of.

There is just no longer any will or desire to try, yet day-to-day there is this constant battle being waged between the angel and devil, where on the one hand I let myself sink into the abyss and think all the negative and pessimistic thoughts with myself just short of taking any tangible action to end it, and on the other, I am admonishing myself for not practising positive self-talk and speaking what I want to see into reality. Does that actually work anyway?

I have been driven to my edge of my sanity by the unsavoury species of the homosapiens who happen to my neighbours, all 3 sets of them. I have tried to speak to them, even lodged complains to the town council where these were unhelpfully forwarded to the relevant government agency that nonchalantly told me that high-rise living brings with it neighbourly considerations (which they are obviously not giving a f*** about) and they cannot do much about it.

I resorted to even submitting a case to the CMC to request for mediation, as that is supposedly the first step I should take since I do not have a lot of evidence/materials to prove my case if I were to approach the CDRT. I read that police reports do nothing too because apparently that is beyond their jurisdiction, unless the neighbours are creating noise disturbances within certain hours.

The thing is, these noises, from slamming of doors repeatedly from 11pm to 12midnight, dragging of furniture across the floor, hyperactive kids jumping the whole damn time or basically someone seemingly slamming themselves or something against the wall/floor, they can occur anytime and throughout the day, yet these are difficult to capture with the amateurish quality of my phone’s recording functions. A lot of ambient noise is collected as a result, and these can hardly help to solidify my case.

I don’t know if my only option now is to just look for a new place to move to, and to check out all the neighbouring units of the new flat, hopefully to determine the quality of the neighbours. I hate my neighbours, for causing me my mental health, especially during this extended period of telecommuting. What was supposed to have helped me prolong my stint at my current role, because of the increased flexibility of my work hours, has morphed into a living hell for me when I have to put up with the noises all day long, and even when I go to sleep at night, I get jolted awake when the door slamming begins.

Working-from-home needs a lot of discipline for the person to draw boundaries and stick to them. Unfortunately, I have not done well in this aspect and have allowed myself to let the email-checking and work creep into the nights and weekends, as a way of compensating for the time when I may not be engaging in work when I should be. Although I do not mind it, I think it has affected the quality of my sleep, and sometimes contents of some emails have not sat so well with me; so it isn’t just doing work (that I absolutely can and will do) but rather doing work that probably should have belonged to someone else, which gets me into a tirade on my own.

There is so much uncertainty right now, in the environment in the society in my work and in my life. Uncertainty translates into a loss of control and I have also personally experienced that loss of control over many things. I no longer have the willpower to control what I eat, how often I eat and how much I eat that I frequently get myself into a state of deep guilt for overindulging and overeating, on all sorts of unhealthy junk food.

Where is all this leading? What can I ever hope to look forward to at all?

I abhor my job. Hate my life. Detest everything about myself.

looking forward to nothing

Just as the rain has mostly stopped its torrential outpouring on our warped new world, I also wish that my tears would stop flowing.

There’s really nothing to live for and nothing to keep me going on. Everything just seems meaningless and everything just demands effort that I don’t have any to give.

Is it resilience I lack or have I really come to the end of myself that aside from weeping there isn’t anything tangible I can do, to stop all that is causing me this anguish, desolation, frustration and hopelessness?

once broken, forever damaged

When someone get afflicted with some variant of mental health issues, damage is done permanently and a flaw will always remain. No amount of time will heal the cracks and scars that have formed even if they were to slowly fade away.

Nobody really understands what a sufferer goes through, each time he/she undergoes a meltdown, a breakdown, a collapse, a relapse. Even another ‘fellow sufferer’ would not be able to empathise with what someone is going through because we are such unique beings, and all of us are wired so differently that psychologists and psychiatrists can only but guess what is it that traps our minds in a constant prison cell, with us pacing back and forth or going round in circles, a Pandora’s box that locks up a whole host of past trauma and hurts.

Back story. I have been and am in a bad place. Mentally. Physically I am constantly fatigued and tired. Mentally, I have been veering on the edge of overwhelm and burnout. I don’t know what is happening and why this is happening. Some days, I ask God to bring me home because the anguish that is threatening to envelope me is just too much to bear. I scream at God amidst angry and frustrated tears, every-single-day, asking why He is allowing this to happen to me. I have surrendered myself haven’t I?

I have tried to live each day at a time, take the tasks from my boss one thing at time, try to ignore each and every single knock, hammering, thump, slam, whatever, that 3 of my surrounding neighbour units make. But where has all these led me? I am nowhere closer to finding peace and solitude. I feel like my sanity is breaking with the endless emails that are sent my way, asking me to explore/find out/think about/consider/etc., that often leave me wondering if I am the only person in the organisation who has to work or if my boss thinks I am just idling at home all the time so that there is a need to flood my inbox with probably close to a hundred new items over the course a leave day and a Saturday.

When is it ever enough, when am I ever enough?

I have felt that life is unfair. And I acknowledge that. It’s just that, it is never unfair to my advantage. I am always on the losing end, even if this sentence is making me sound like I am victimising myself. Maybe I am. But I just feel aggrieved that I was denied a promotion but ended up having to take on tasks of those who were promoted – and I do not know what they are actually doing now. I am so close to resigning. But everyone tells me no, because times are bad.

They tell me, I am the only one who can help myself, that I need to change my mindset. Is mindset that easy to change? If it is, all the mental health professionals would probably go out of job because we just need to ‘change our way of thinking’. I wish it was that easy. I didn’t ask to be depressed. I didn’t ask to feel this way. It isn’t fun to watch myself washing my face daily with tears, crying my eyes swollen, unable to sleep peacefully each night. I, too, want peace. I, too, want happiness. But how?

Once broken. Forever broken. And always never good enough, always not doing enough.


I can’t…..



think of a reason to carry on living.

Why does life just seem and get harder and harder no matter how much I try to climb and crawl out of the darkness that’s enveloping me like quicksand swallowing me up faster than I can claw my fingers onto anything to keep me from drowning into a massive ocean of oppressive forces crushing every cellular membrane of my embattled body, mind and soul.