When I first started traveling in Southeast Asia, I’d stop by every Chinatown there was, shop at the largest malls I could find and eat at the highest-rated restaurants. That was what I thought traveling was — adventure and excitement from seeing and eating the same things others before me had done. It was fun, no doubt, but at times I would wonder if there was more I could do.
Hearing the term, work-life balance, has always made me cringe because honestly, it’s not my strong suit. I always think about work, whether or not I’m taking the right direction in life, and this often leaves me feeling like I’m not doing enough, which makes me want to keep working. If I had to describe this feeling more accurately, it’s like an itch I can never scratch.
Last night, I couldn’t sleep.
I tried to, but no matter how many freaking sheeps I counted or how slow I tried to breathe, I couldn’t get myself to fall asleep. The Hong Kong milk tea I had drank earlier (which surprisingly has the same amount of caffeine as a cup of coffee does) that evening was a lot stronger than I had anticipated.
So what did I do?
I’ve been called ‘stupid’ for about a decade — for making trivial mistakes, for being a disappointment, for asking for help — by someone who once cared about me.
And the unimaginable part is, I tried to take it all in. I convinced myself that being told so was a good thing because if anything, it’d be a lesson to not make the same mistake again.
“So what motivates you to put in your greatest effort?”
If I ask this question to people, their response usually revolves around money or passion or people they admire.
For me, it’s this: