About Balance

When I was younger, my life didn’t follow any clear direction. Things just happened—and often, they hurt.

My parents separated. My grandparents—who were more like parents to me—passed away. There weren’t many adults around to guide me. So I made most of the decisions in life based on survival.

I loved art. I still do. But I chose law because it felt like something I could build a life on. Something stable, something respectable.

And as strange as it sounds, I grew to love law in its own way. There’s a structure to it. A certain logic that made the world feel less chaotic.
I pushed myself. Studied for the Malaysian Bar on my own. Passed.
I joined one of the top medical law firms and practiced in areas I genuinely found meaningful.

I ticked all the boxes.
Job. Car. House.
I had what many would call “a good life.”

But at some point, I noticed a heaviness. Not sadness exactly—just a quiet exhaustion. Like I’d been running on adrenaline for years.

I realized I wasn’t chasing a dream anymore.
I was just trying to stay afloat.
And that’s when I began slowing down.

I turned inward. Read more. Sat in silence more.
Started meditating—not to escape, but to listen.

Over time, I learned to let go of expectations—of who I should be, or what life should look like.
I stopped needing the highs. And I stopped fearing the lows. I surrendered my life to God.

Now, I find comfort in balance.
In the kind of life that isn’t dramatic or explosive, but steady. Like a straight line. Quiet. Peaceful. Full of small, soft joys.

If you’re somewhere in between—trying to make sense of your own highs and lows—know that it’s okay to rest.
To not rush. To not chase.
Sometimes peace doesn’t come from achieving more. It comes from gently coming back to yourself.

Balance isn’t always loud.
Sometimes, it feels like a deep exhale.
And that’s more than enough.