Letting Go Without Losing Yourself

Detachment was never something that came naturally to me. As a child, goodbyes always felt heavy — whether it was parting with the nannies who cared for me, saying farewell to old friends, walking away from past relationships, or facing the loss of loved ones. Letting go wasn’t just difficult; it was painful.

One of the most defining lessons in detachment came when I moved to the United States to study. I hadn’t realized how deeply my roots had grown into the soil of my hometown — into my culture, my language, and even the comforting taste of the food I’d grown up with. Living abroad forced me to loosen my grip on the familiar and open my hands to the unknown. It was uncomfortable, even lonely at times, but it shaped me. And it taught me a truth I carry to this day: nothing in this world is permanent, and everything — in its own time — must change.

Now, with my wedding just four months away, I find myself in another season of letting go. Slowly, I’m preparing to detach — from my family, from the daily joy of being with my dogs, from the small rituals that make home feel like home. The process is bittersweet: part sadness, part anticipation. Each step away from my parents is a step toward the life I am about to build — toward the moment I’ll meet the children I hope to have one day.

But here’s what I’ve come to realize: life never waits until we feel ready. It keeps moving forward, quietly and relentlessly. It takes the people we love, the things we treasure, and in time, it will take us too. Nothing — not joy, not pain, not even us — will last forever. We’re only here for a little while, aren’t we?

And so, I find myself returning to one question, again and again:
Is it selfish to guard my heart by detaching, just enough, so that if someone hurts me, it doesn’t pierce so deeply? Or so that when they leave, they don’t take a piece of me with them?

I don’t know the answer yet. Perhaps detachment is self-protection. Or perhaps it’s simply learning to love in a way that doesn’t cling — to hold people close, but not so tightly that we lose ourselves when they’re gone.

Maybe letting go isn’t about caring less. Maybe it’s about trusting more — trusting that even when something ends, life has a way of unfolding into something new.

And so, I will keep loving fully, releasing gently, and walking forward — knowing that every goodbye is also an opening to what comes next.

Penang Vlog

 

Overthinking, Over-caffeinated, and Overly Ambitious

I can’t seem to fall asleep tonight. Maybe it’s the aftermath of a heavy leg day, or perhaps the matcha latte I had a little too late in the afternoon. Either way, my mind is wandering—and suddenly, the thought hits me: I should practice singing. Completely random, I know. But then again, aren’t we all a little unpredictable sometimes? 

That led me to another thought: what if, after I’m married, I still have these sleepless nights? What if I feel like singing at 2 a.m.? Would that even be possible with my in-laws asleep nearby? Now that’s a horror scenario. Maybe I could watch a movie instead, but that sounds kind of dull in the middle of the night. Or maybe I’ll just reach for a book—quiet, harmless, and always there.

And yet, here I am—two paragraphs deep, and still very much awake. My brain’s on overdrive. One moment I’m dreaming of becoming a peaceful, cozy homemaker like Honeyjubu… the next, I’m picturing myself crafting the dreamiest home café like Cafe Maddy. There’s a part of me that’s drawn to a more feminine and demure lifestyle, much like the one Kika Kim seems to live, while another part just wants to vlog my quiet life like Michelle Choi. I want to be it all—the perfect daughter, wife, mom, daughter-in-law… the whole list. Is that too much to ask?