The serpent plants the first doubt: “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?”

It wasn’t just about disobedience. It was suspicion and distrust.

Maybe God is holding out on me.
Maybe He’s not as good as He says.

And this moment is all of us as we grow up out of childhood.

We start off as babies trusting completely. We rely on caregivers for survival. But when we become 2 or 3, we begin to lie. Not because we’re taught, but we discover it somehow.

As we grow, we begin to sense what we can or cannot do. We find out the boundaries.

Will I be punished if I do this? Can I bend the rules and get away with it? If I tell the truth will I get hurt?

The Eden moment repeats.
“Did God say…?” becomes “Do I really have to tell the truth?”

We doubt God’s word and promises. We crave autonomy and want to be God.
And when we get caught, we shift blame like Adam:

It wasn’t me. It was her. It was You. You gave her to me.

Unapologetic and protecting ourselves.

And if the Fall changed us and our nature toward self-preservation, autonomy, and suspicion, then we’re invited by God to come back.

To relearn how to trust. Trust that truth leads to life, not punishment. Trust that we don’t need to hide, or spin, or cover ourselves anymore.

A few days ago, my husband donated $10 to someone who knocked on our door asking for money. Said it was for charity. He checked it out, deemed it legit, and handed over the cash.

I immediately rebuked him.
“You WHAT? How did you know it was legit?”
“What website was it?”

But it wasn’t about the money.

It was about trust. My lack of it.

What does it say about me that my default assumption is that people are lying?

I’m not even mad that he gave. Not really. I’m mad that I couldn’t. I would never.

There’s the idea that everyone’s probably out to trick me.
That person in the street walking up to me is probably going to sell me something I don’t need.

But what kind of person have I become, if I can’t even believe people?

And maybe that’s what the Fall really was.
“Original sin” sounds so banal, so boring but what if it was not about eating the forbidden fruit?
What if it’s about the moment we stopped trusting? The moment we traded the innocence of a child for the suspicion and distrust.

And here I am repeating what Eve did.
Defending myself with logic, skepticism, and reasons to withhold.

But maybe being human isn’t about protecting ourselves with doubt.

Maybe the braver, riskier thing is just to believe.
Like Fulton Sheen, knowing there’s risk but choosing to hope anyway.
To give, and let God decide if the recipient did good with your gift.

Even if it occasionally funds someone’s KPods addiction.
Even if it stings to know I might be cheated.

Started the day teaching, then threw myself into serious biz mode in the afternoon by literally putting pants on over my tights in the office, then back to teaching again, then executing some marketing material..

My power is taking on many things, but not doing any of them at a high level.

The big meeting in the middle of the day I’d been low key dreading because big business negotiations are just not something I am familiar with. I was just hoping not to agree to anything catastrophic.

But I was already wearing the pants, and the nature of our small family business (and perhaps how green and inexperienced I am) helped me continue to be the harmless player in the game and allowed the other stakeholders to guide the discussions.

Everyone wanted to make things work.

No one tried to throw a curveball or play power games or seemed like they were hiding anything and I was able to get clarity because of how pro-business and understanding these much more experienced people were.

Even though now as I’m trying to collect our response to their proposed agreement, I’m still trying to see how we can protect ourselves better. I’m literally praying to God to open my eyes to anything I need to know going in because even though I’ve got a tiny bit more confidence now, this whole project is a lot of work once we take it on, and it’s a lot of risk.

It’s not a sexy deal for us.

It just adds a bit more income for the staff and eats up a whole bunch of our time and effort that no one will ever see. But we have to do it, because otherwise we won’t survive in this industry.

So I felt somewhat useful today. My teaching was even solid and I felt like I added value to everyone today. I was stretched thin but I showed up. It was just much easier to be satisfied with myself today.

I didn’t go into the office today.

And even though that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve done nothing with my life, that’s not helping me feel good about myself.

I fixed a broken website before lunch or coordinated a whole corporate matchmaking situation.

I submitted next month’s promotions, followed up with the bank, negotiated business terms, and somehow navigated three jobs and a volunteer task on just two slices of bread and some dried mango.

But I still feel crappy about myself.

Because I wasn’t in the office physically taking up space, breathing the same air as my mother. Who is also my boss, but is also my mother.

She hasn’t asked for anything, btw. She hasn’t looked at me like I’m slacking, or said a word about my absence in the office.

But I still feel.. down. Just guilt with a side of imposter syndrome.

Because even when no one says anything, there’s that internal pressure I put on myself. The feeling that comes when someone trusts you and doesn’t micromanage.

I’ve been given so much freedom and flexibility at work. A front-row seat in the family business.

And I know not everyone gets this.

So I feel like I have to be present for it. Be visible.

But today, none of the work I did was visible. My body heat absent from the office. Cobwebs growing at the corner of my desk. I’ve just been at home on my laptop being invisible, working on my mother’s other child (the biz).

Then because of that, I feel like a bum. Even though, logically, rationally, I know I am not.

I asked ChatGPT how to reframe this. Because writing it down, I know I did stuff today. I know I’m doing my best.

It told me to remind myself that being invisible isn’t the same as being idle. That work done in private is still work. That I did do something today, and it wasn’t big, it wasn’t noticeable, but it took time.

But because no one saw it. Because it wasn’t in the office. It feels like it didn’t happen. It described all my tasks as having disappeared into a cloud of invisible usefulness and that sounds exactly right. How there’s no trophy for “made twelve micro-decisions that prevented bigger problems later”.

Decisions to stall on the job are still decisions nonetheless. Decisions that I have to make because things from the other parties don’t make sense for us to be involved yet.

It’s ridiculous. But the feeling is real. Like I have to be visibly busy for my self worth.

So it’s just me here, still in the shirt I woke up in, wondering if I’ve done enough to not feel like a bum.

Welp. I’ve got to go teach group class now.

Many moons ago, the phrase “No guts, no glory” was what motivated me to get myself out there and do the things that terrified me. It was the kind of thing I found on tumblr, printed and pasted at my work desk.

I was just trying to put myself out there and be something.

Today, I’m sitting in the waiting room at SGH Centre for Digestive and Liver Diseases, thinking about my literal guts. And there is zero glory to be found.

I’ve never been very regular. It’s just such a chore to have to stop whatever I’m doing to visit the toilet. Even worse when it’s out in public. 

So it was a huge change when I had really painful constipation early this year and every successful poop became a cause for celebration and a mark in my poop tracker on my calendar.

Papaya worked like magic. So, we began buying papaya like some people buy Hermes bags. 

One for today, tomorrow, the day after..

C and I have created sign language in relation to this beautiful orange fruit. We even have a papaya song. He is now also an expert at cutting papaya beautifully.

But after meeting the doctor, if glory was something younger me thought the guts were in control of.. 

There’s no glory with showing a stranger your most intimate parts. Getting my anus probed by two doctors has also decidedly not been glorious. 

Welcome to the first of potentially many more hospital visits as I get older.

Very human, mildly humiliating, and ultimately helpless but grateful for the strangers doing this work.

I’ve scheduled my colonoscopy for June, and as I walked past a very handsome man in scrubs, I texted C.

No (properly functioning) guts, no glory..?

It has literally been a full year! But having a diary that I update yearly is better than not having one. What’s a year in the grand scheme of things anyway? When I’m much older, I’d be able to check back on the years of my life through these entries and that’s kind of romantic, isn’t it?

When we came back from Spain in 2024, my skin started to get really bad. The humidity in Singapore borders on oppressive, and my skin has always been a battleground.

Trying to put moisturisers on my dry skin, when the air is thick with moisture feels pointless at times, as though my skin can’t decide whether it’s too dry or too damp. The moisturisers feel heavy and thick and they just don’t penetrate.

But the 2024 eczema flare up was the worst I have ever gotten.

The itch felt like prickly ants crawling under my skin, relentless and impossible to ignore.

The dermatologist offered very little relief for a lot of money.

So I collected clues. I realised that it felt better when I was out of the house, and after one incident, I soon uncovered that it was mould in my home. In my air-conditioner, on the ceiling, under the table, possibly in the books and everywhere, turning my days and nights into a battle against invisible triggers.

Dust was something I had known I was allergic to. But mould – invisible mould spores – was something I did not know how to fight.

My auntie offered me to stay over at Marina Bay Sands for a night, and I took it wanting to get away from the flat. I could instantly feel my body relax from not having to keep its defences up.

At home, we tried everything we could. I would wipe down every book and surface with vinegar and alcohol, while C tackled the ceilings with bleach—though the fumes got to him, leaving him irritable, and in his frustration, he managed to get some in his eye. Eventually, we gave in and hired professionals.

I packed up the entire house to ensure every inch could be treated. Every wall was repainted with the most expensive, highly recommended anti-mould paint we could find on the market, determined to reclaim our space from the invisible spores.

But I soon discovered that my parents’ house had an even worse mould problem. Their bathroom ceiling, once white, had turned a deep, spotty gray.

Trying to escape the paint fumes and lingering spores, I spent a night in my old room, only to end up crying in the dark from the relentless itch.

By morning, the deep lines under my eyes felt carved onto my face. I was convinced that the mould was behind my mum’s persistent stomach pains and gallstones. A new dehumidifier was bought, more expensive anti-mould paint splashed.

The mould exposure left me with side effects.

As I worked to heal, I noticed certain foods that used to be okay for me now triggered my eczema – another puzzle that needed solving. I discovered that salicylates, compounds naturally present in many healthy foods and skincare (Salicylic Acid!), had become troublesome for my sensitised system.

2024 has been a step toward rebuilding my skin. I now take a cocktail of vitamins to manage my gut health and immune system, and the dehumidifier is always running.

2023 was a good year, where I made sure to do the things that I wanted to do and to spend less time and effort on the things that I did not want to.

I spent a lot less time in the office, and took up teaching one regular group class and covered some reformer group classes. I really enjoy these because they keep me feeling involved on a bigger scale. You really get a sense of your teaching ability because the students do give you feedback and you do see the popularity of your classes too.

C and I also started Classpass in 2023 which allowed us to experience some other group classes and I did learn from those classes – the things I enjoyed and the things I did not enjoy in those classes helped me decide the type of teacher I wanted to be.

Feeling optimistic about 2024, but aren’t we all optimistic about the beginnings of things?

Found out about personal agency yesterday and this (the lack of it) feels like the answer for why I feel so unmotivated and lazy sometimes. I’ve been searching for the reason why I’m so lazy and trying to find answers and solutions to it but articles always seem to assume that it means I’m stressed out or burnt out or overwhelmed.

I simply am not.

I am the definition of privilege. I can cruise by life without much effort. I attract opportunities and wealth (thanks to the laws of attraction), and even though I’m not part of the super rich or the super elite, I’ve always been able to get more than I needed, and more.

I know it’s such an ugly thing to say and this isn’t the type of thing I would want out there in the world for people to think that I’m an arrogant person. But typing it out here and thinking about this makes me feel like I can start fixing this. And I do want to fix it so much.

Some people get their personal agency from posting about what they’re doing everyday and getting validation from others, but that’s not me. Or maybe it’s just not good enough for me. And I don’t yet know what button I can push to activate this in myself.

It’s funny because I was listening to a podcast that mentioned how social media and our devices are creating that overload and overstimulation, how “we are like trained monkeys, tethered to devices that prompt us at all hours of the day” and where we put our attention is the most important decision that we make. That makes us less in control of our lives and our levels of agency declines.

Also a lot of the times when we want to reach out for our devices, we are just looking for a moment to recharge. And reaching for the device doesn’t actually recharge us. Even multi-tasking takes that control away from us.

This was hilarious to me because I was listening to the beginning of the podcast while I was ironing my clothes. And then I took a break and began eating and listening to the podcast. And then unknowingly I was scrolling through Facebook and eating and listening to the podcast. In fact, I had unconsciously opened Facebook and then consciously closed it about 3 times during the entire time. My mind was blown.

I arranged for an interview with a candidate looking for a job. He cancelled on me last week citing an illness so I arranged for another date. He flaked on me again today because he couldn’t find transport to get here and I cancelled the interview.

I don’t know how small businesses are supposed to survive when the talent pool we can afford are only out looking for gains for themselves without adding value.

Are you looking for a job or am I digging through trash searching for treasure?

For small businesses, the search for those who will stand with us, shoulder to shoulder, in the quest for progress remains an elusive journey.

Sometimes when I feel like it, I go onto Linkedin and look at the things I could potentially be doing with my life, the roles and responsibilities I could probably take on and the ones I would not. I imagine kao-pehing at some of the unreasonable workload and being thrilled by exciting projects and inspiring mentors and creative minds.

But most of the time they become unappealing and I close the windows, resuming my regular routine.