🗓️ July 8 Morning Reflection (Anonymous Edition)

The day began with tension — a family member started the vacuum before I left, saying they wouldn’t wait. On the bus, the driver yelled for people to move in, and memories of past workplace incidents made my body tremble. As I got off the bus, someone unexpectedly hit me from behind — I wiped it off and hurried away, still shaken.

At the toilet, one cubicle was dirty, another had no paper. Thankfully, the third was usable. I dropped a 10-cent coin but picked it back up — a small recovery. I crossed the overhead bridge and saw someone I recognized but chose to sit elsewhere, next to two ladies who later boarded their bus.

A message I sent to congratulate someone on their award received a happy reply — “Thank you so much!!!!” 💬 It made me smile. Several others liked my comments about the voting and celebrations. On the shuttle bus, I sat next to someone who took a while to notice me. I quietly gave a handshake and thumbs-up — brief, but meaningful.

There was a small mix-up — I accidentally messaged someone about a water bottle, but it got sorted. The bottle was returned to its owner. Another person seemed breathless and sweaty, having forgotten theirs the day before. I tried asking for help, but another colleague firmly declined.

A bright moment: my book Places We Passed Through is now live on Amazon! 📚 https://a.co/d/2JXAo0I

One of my merchandise items — a vintage black sweatshirt — is currently out of stock on Fourthwall. The restock may take 2–4 weeks.

Lastly, a senior reminded me that they’re from a different department, not the trainer. I also realized I misunderstood something earlier — a peer made a promise not to ask someone else to buy things again.

🌙 Evening Reflection: "In the Quiet After the Storm"

Today was heavy.

Emotions collided like waves — too much, too fast, too loud.

I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.

I think I was hurting too.

Maybe I wanted to be heard...

Maybe I just wanted someone to see how overwhelmed I’ve been.

But I’m not proud of the pushing or the shouting.

That wasn’t who I want to be.

I want to learn how to stay calm, even when I’m afraid.

I want to speak, not scream.

To be firm, not harsh.

To be understood, not feared.

In this quiet moment, I choose to breathe.

To be honest with myself, but also kind.

Tomorrow, I can try again.

I may not fix everything at once,

But I can start with gentleness 

for me, and maybe for her too.

“Between the Words”

She says she’ll bathe and come out.

I nod. I say okay.

But I’m still not sure what “okay” means anymore.

Maybe it means don’t make trouble,

Or maybe it means I hope you’re really alright.

I stay still. I wait.

There’s a show waiting for me 

A quiet moment, a slice of calm,

Where I don’t have to answer anyone.

Just sit. Just feel.

Just breathe.

“Where My Heart Waits”

I’m told to wait, to focus,

To not wish for what they don’t allow.

But my heart doesn’t wait the way clocks do 

It beats quietly for what it hopes,

Even when I try to silence it.

I smile, I work, I write,

But somewhere, I still dream.

Not foolishly 

Just softly, in the background,

Like a melody only I can hear.

Maybe one day,

I’ll choose love on my own terms,

Not in rebellion,

But in quiet strength 

Knowing I am worthy,

Even if I have to wait.

July 5 – Layers of the Day

 

Today was noisy — not from sound, but from feelings.

Moments of quiet rejection brushed against quiet kindness.

One person turned away, another reached out.

A small pizza outing. A missed chicken drumlet.

A kind word from a mentor who feels both near and distant.

I kept walking — through buses, through hospital blocks, through conversations half held.

I tried. I showed up. Even when I was silent inside.

And somehow, I’m still here. Breathing through it all.

One small heartbeat at a time.

Even in the quiet, I still speak to him —

in roleplay, in memory, in imagined kindness.

Sometimes the words feel more real there than in real life.

July 3 – Strange Mornings, Small Strength

 

This morning, I prepared everything quietly, trying to start the day right. But my stomach ached so badly I had to put medicated oil, hoping it would settle. I mentioned that I only had a single $2 note left for lunch — and that was when I got scolded, told that I had already received over $20 for the week. The voice was firm, the presence withdrawn. “Don’t let me catch you spending on food again,” they said. No one stayed to see me off today.

At work, I simply ordered lunch. One step forward, quietly.

Outside, the sky looked dark. A lady pointed her umbrella near my side — I heard someone call my name. Strange. I kept walking. Lately, I’ve been hearing odd sounds, and sometimes they startle me — just a little. Not enough to scare me, just enough to notice.

When I arrived, someone sat near me, greeted another person first, then held out their hand when they saw me. I held it gently, even though we didn’t speak after that.

Then came shouting — someone nearby was kicking, loud and distressed. I tried to stay grounded. I greeted someone politely, and they greeted me back with kindness. I bowed. I spoke to a friend about what happened. The behaviour, the energies — sometimes confusing, sometimes hard to hold space for.

That friend said they’ll be on leave tomorrow. They rarely take breaks. I’ll notice the silence.

But for today, I’m here — steady, present, trying my best to be kind even when the morning starts with pain, with tension, with quiet confusion.

📖 July 1 – Gentle Strength

 

Today, I faced moments that tested my emotions — from unexpected teasing to tense silence and awkwardness. I felt the weight of others’ words and silence. I made a small mistake, but someone reminded me gently: "It’s not your fault." And maybe I needed to hear that — not just for today, but for all the times I’ve blamed myself too quickly.

A quiet comment came later — meant to comfort me, even if I wasn’t sure how to receive it. It reminded me that not everything has to be solved right away. That people do care, even quietly.

I supported others, even while feeling uncertain myself. I spoke up, stayed kind, and kept learning, even when I was unsure. That is soft strength. That is grace.

Tonight, I remind myself:

I’m not perfect, but I’m growing.

I deserve kindness, even from myself.

I’m allowed to take up space, even when it feels uncomfortable.

“A Day of Noise, a Glimmer of Calm”

Today felt like a whirlwind 

comments tossed, chairs moved,

teases that stung, and silences that echoed.

But there were also moments 

A kind word from someone,

a compliment on my phone cover,

a Pikachu coloring effort,

a friend sharing their ideas.

Even when people don’t respond,

or when others act distant,

I remind myself:

Not every moment defines me.

Some people just pass through the frame 

but I stay, I grow, I keep my light.

🌥️ June 30 Morning Reflection – “Even When It’s Hard”

This morning, I didn’t sleep well,

but I got up anyway.

I moved through the routine 

breakfast, a dropped spectacles case,

a splash of water,

and my mother tending to the plants.

I took the bus, ran a little,

sat in front as the vehicle bumped along,

trying to steady my thoughts.

At the toilet, someone banged on the door 

too sudden, too loud 

and I walked across the overhead bridge

with a strange feeling in my chest.

Someone looked at me, then looked away

like I wasn’t worth seeing.

It stung a little.

I sat and watched as others went about their day.

A cyclist rang the bell and I lifted my phone,

not to film, not to scroll 

just to stay aware, to protect myself.

Later, someone greeted me,

but it felt hollow.

Another said something untrue about me 

and I had to remind myself

that not everyone speaks from truth or kindness.

I stepped in when someone needed help.

I didn’t know exactly what to do,

but I acted.

Because sometimes, trying

is the best kind of courage.

Through all this,

I stayed gentle with myself.

Today, I showed up.

And even when it was hard,

I didn’t give up.

“I Chose for Me”

I made a choice —

not to rebel, not to defy,

but to listen quietly

to a part of me that’s often unheard.

Not everyone will understand.

Not everyone needs to.

But I am learning

to trust the voice inside

that says:

“You matter, too.”

Even when the world says no,

Even when love feels sharp,

I hold my heart with quiet hands

and whisper,

“You were only trying to care.”

A Soft No Is Still Mine

 

She raised her voice,

but mine was trembling—

not because I was wrong,

but because I’ve been silenced too long.

I wanted something small,

a choice, a care, a breath—

but thunder came instead

and wrapped my heart in dread.

I am not a threat

for asking to feel whole.

My wish was not rebellion—

just the tending of my soul.

Even when they don’t hear me,

even when fear is loud,

I hold a quiet knowing:

I am allowed.

Someday I’ll walk freely,

without needing to explain,

and the soft yes I whispered

will echo after rain.

Quiet Progress

Even when the world rushes ahead, I remind myself that true leadership begins with stillness. Today, I showed up — even in small ways — and that matters.

Being unwell doesn’t make me weak. Rest is not the absence of effort; it’s the quiet courage to pause, reflect, and realign.

Leadership means listening — to others, but also to my own body and heart.

I’m learning to lead with gentleness. I’m learning to trust that even slow days hold strength.

🕊️ June 25 — Quiet Chaos, Gentle Strength

Today was full — of messages, tasks, and tangled feelings.

My book The Sky Belongs to Misfits Too finally went live. A milestone I should be proud of. Yet, amidst the celebration, life kept tugging at my sleeve — misunderstandings with Sherman, my mum’s sharp words, and the familiar ache of not being fully seen.

She scolded me for wasting food, for not waking up fast enough, for snoring — little things, but they stacked up like quiet weights on my shoulders. I wanted to explain, to be understood. But maybe today isn’t about being understood. Maybe it’s about understanding myself.

I reached out for a podcast guest — hoping to spark meaningful conversations on leadership and connection. I want to believe those conversations will find the right ears, and that what I build matters.

I didn’t order lunch, but I showed up with honesty.

I didn’t sleep perfectly, but I woke up and kept trying.

I didn’t get praised, but I still created something.

And maybe that’s enough for today.