daily, ponderings


The past months have flown by almost too quickly.

The multiple visits to the embassy,
The late nights I’ve clocked sitting in front of the laptop with bloodshot eyes reading about processes and paperwork,
The tiring hours I clock on the road, driving people up and down,
The fatigue of packing things into boxes and multiple trips to the storage unit,
The countless times I had to pack and repack my luggage,
The number of times I had to say goodbye,
The pain of having to let the people I love go,
The amount of tears I had shed in the days leading up to my departure.

And i’m finally here, yet still unresolved. Still unable to settle in because months of research doesn’t help make getting paperwork processed any faster.
Knowing that the weeks to come will be just as stressful as moving my life halfway across the world. Knowing that I’m still not able to kick back and relax until everything is sorted out.

The excitement still hasn’t hit me because I was/am so busy figuring shit out. Flying 6,000 miles across the globe felt more hollow than anything. I read letters from friends and loved ones, looked at pictures; all the things that I can only stare at but can’t have.I didn’t ever imagine it to be so difficult to say goodbye. Who knew leaving the place I grew up in and grew to detest was so hard?

The journey to Germany was rough, I almost couldn’t get on the connecting flight in Doha. My luggage was misconnected. I re-wore what I could, and tried not to stay cold. The first day was even rougher. Arriving here, at my ~dream city~, yet still no sense of excitement.

I’ve had people yell at me when asking questions. I avoid eye contact with people I pass in the streets, on the train, because I’m bummed. I’ve had impatience and passive aggressive shit waved in my face. I block out everything with music blasting in my ears and tweedle my thumbs. Still having no luggage, desperately wishing there was a way to fix this shit.

Helplessness is what you feel when you move somewhere new.
Not excitement, helplessness.

That evening I got my luggage back, with no thanks to any of the 10 phone calls that I had made. At this point I feel a little better, but the helplessness doesn’t go away. The only thing making my day a little better are the little visits to the supermarket; I stare at the cheese and chocolate selection and it’s enough.

The fatigue, the jetlag, the odd growling from your stomach, the lack of appetite because your brain can’t tell why you’re trying to eat dinner at midnight when it’s really 7pm on this side of the world. When you don’t know where to go and you’re too exhausted to do anything but stay in bed. When you fall into this space of pessimism and you’re not sure what your purpose is here anymore. But it’s only day 1 after all – it’s 24 hours that feel like 48. And then I get reminded that it’s only day 1. Staying eternally grateful for the people who keep me sane with words of encouragement.

It’s day 02 today and I visited a flea market. Stood in the crowd and felt overwhelmed, had some incredible tasting vegan gyros and fresh OJ, watched quirky musicians play in Mauerpark. Met a colleague for coffee and was shown around her neighbourhood. Being a little bit more warmed up, it didn’t feel so empty inside anymore. Next up’s prepping myself for first day of work upon my third day of arrival; Helplessness departs, nervousness arrives.

Things will probably slowly look up, guess I just have to be patient. Perhaps take more trips to the supermarket to gawk at the selection of fresh produce that we don’t get back in Singapore.

Whoever told you chasing your dreams was easy must have merely climbed up a flight of stairs to plant a flag with their face on it.



That feeling of atrocity, the unjust knots in my gut from the inability to speak reason; The Defeat. The 20 year old me would look at me now and spit in my sorry face for letting an unreasonable woman call me names and get away with it. Perhaps it’s growth, being able to let things go. But I can’t help but notice the disappearance of my ‘Never Say Die’ spirit. I’ve always hated losing but somehow, the will to fight for what’s right just isn’t there anymore.

So these days, encounters with strangers are often unpleasant, social situations become awkward, I stop remembering the right things to say, I secretly wish my phone would explode so nobody can contact me. While traveling, 8 out of 10 people I cross paths with result in good vibrations. Back home, 6 out of 10 cause me suffering to the point that human interaction becomes tiring.

All the entitlements everyone feels they should rightfully receive, the self-centered egotistical ugliness that reflects in daily mannerisms, the wall of defence that everyone has built even higher than the wall in the North. What is the point, really?

Maybe I’ve had a real good life for the past 2 years, maybe it’s a part of my life I will never get over until the next epic part comes along. But right now, I’m struggling. I’m struggling to find a place, my worth, a foreseeable future.

I’m standing in the middle of an overly packed forest, looking through the thick dense trees that tower on and on into the sky. Clueless on which direction to go, following filtered streams of what little sunlight there is, praying that it leads to a way out. But each time there seems to be a morsel of hope, I’m plunged back into the darkness of the woods. I’m unable to escape so I hug a majestic baobab; clasping onto the energy from these deep rooted beings of the earth. And alas… Nothing. Nothing happens. I’m stuck in a maze of perennial beings, that’s all.

Have I lost myself along the way of being grounded ?