On leaving a full-time job, losing friendships, meeting my eight-year-old self, and discovering that starting over is equal parts terrifying and exciting.
It’s been a while since I last wrote anything here.
A lot has changed. And by a lot, I mean the kind of change that comes at you like a typhoon. One minute, everything seems perfectly manageable. The next, you’re wondering who gave your life permission to become a roller coaster without a seatbelt.
The highs have been high. The lows? Quite something.
Where do I even begin?
Perhaps with the part where I quit my full-time job in Ubud.
I handed in my notice two months in advance, knowing very well that I didn’t have another full-time position waiting for me. Just an idea, a few possibilities, and the slightly terrifying thought of doing something entirely on my own.
After more than a decade of working in marketing and public relations, I decided it was time to offer my expertise independently. To help more brands find their voices, get discovered, and hopefully make something meaningful out of what I’ve learned along the way.
Sounds exciting, right?
It is.
It’s also terrifying when you’re the one who has to make it happen.
I started talking to people in my inner circle. Asking questions. Sharing ideas. Revising my presentation deck for what felt like the hundredth time. Thinking, rethinking, overthinking, and occasionally wondering whether I’d completely lost my mind.
Everyone had an opinion.
Some were encouraging. Some were practical. Others made me question things I thought I’d already figured out.
But somewhere in the middle of all those conversations, I learned something important.
Listen to everyone. But don’t hand everyone the steering wheel.
Feedback is valuable. Perspective is necessary. But not everyone knows you as well as you know yourself.
And sometimes, the most important opinion is the quiet one you’ve been trying to hear beneath all the noise.
Your gut.
I’m learning to trust mine a little more.
Because I don’t think anyone is ever fully ready for a big change. You can read every book about swimming, watch a hundred tutorials, and buy the most expensive swimsuit.
But eventually, you have to get into the water.
So, here I am.
Swimming.
Occasionally swallowing seawater.
But swimming nonetheless.
Apparently, Growing Also Means Losing People
Leaving a job was one thing.
Losing an old friendship was another.
You know that familiar advice about letting go of people who no longer align with your values?
I used to think it sounded like something people posted on Instagram after a dramatic breakup.
Until I found myself living it.
I’ve always believed that honesty matters. That people should be able to speak up, disagree, and express what they feel without automatically turning a conversation into a battlefield.
But apparently, honesty can be complicated.
There’s a saying I came across:
“If it’s hysterical, it’s historical.”
The idea is that sometimes our reactions aren’t entirely about what’s happening in front of us. Something from the past may have been touched, even when we don’t realize it.
And while I initially wondered whether someone else’s reaction came from something deeper, I eventually had to turn that question toward myself.
Why was I so affected?
Why did a friendship falling apart make me question my own character?
Am I really that bad a friend?
Was I wrong for being honest?
Could I have handled things differently?
I tried sleeping on it.
Usually, a good night’s sleep helps me put things into perspective.
Not this time.
A week passed, and the questions were still sitting somewhere inside me, making themselves very comfortable without paying rent.
So I called my therapist.
The one and only, Sab.
Then I Met Eight-Year-Old Anne
I expected our session to revolve around friendship, boundaries, and perhaps a few lessons about communication.
Instead, Sab asked me something I wasn’t expecting.
Where do you feel that emotion in your body?
I paused.
What do you mean, where?
As we talked, I started noticing things I’d never paid much attention to.
Upset felt like a knot in my stomach.
Sadness sat in my chest, almost like a slow burn.
Different emotions seemed to have different places to live.
And for someone who spends a considerable amount of time analyzing everything with her brain, discovering that my body had been participating in the conversation all along was rather fascinating.
We began identifying those feelings, one by one.
Not judging them.
Not rushing to fix them.
Just acknowledging that they existed.
It was surprisingly liberating.
Then Sab guided me toward something much deeper.
Eight-year-old me.
The little girl who had experienced loneliness and abandonment. The one who didn’t always understand why certain things happened, but somehow learned to carry those feelings anyway.
I could picture her so vividly.
And for a moment, I wasn’t the grown woman trying to navigate friendships, career changes, and the uncertainties of adulthood.
I was simply sitting with that little girl.
I wanted to hug her.
To tell her she didn’t have to spend her whole life questioning whether she was good enough.
And then I told her:
“You’ll be fine. You’ll grow into a strong woman. And you’ll become the kind of person you once needed around you.”
I also told her that she would grow up to have qualities she wished she’d seen in her father.
And gosh.
The tears.
An actual waterfall.
I didn’t expect a conversation about friendship to take me all the way back to childhood.
But perhaps that’s the thing about growing up.
Sometimes the person who needs your kindness the most isn’t someone standing in front of you.
It’s the younger version of yourself who never quite received it.
I left that session feeling lighter.
Not because everything had been resolved. The friendship hadn’t magically repaired itself, and I hadn’t suddenly become an emotionally enlightened human being.
Far from it.
But I understood myself a little better.
And perhaps that was enough for now.
Meanwhile, Freelance Life Has Entered the Chat
Just when I thought life couldn’t become any more interesting, I started navigating the wonderful, chaotic world of independent consulting.
And what a ride.
Some days, I feel like I’m standing on top of a mountain, looking at all the possibilities ahead.
Other days, I feel like I’ve been buried under the sand at the beach.
Not the glamorous, sun-kissed kind.
More like someone forgot I was there.
But here’s the funny part.
I’m enjoying it.
I’m working on projects that genuinely excite me, collaborating with different brands, and meeting people whose perspectives challenge the way I think.
From Gen Z creatives to Baby Boomers, Millennials, and Gen X executives holding senior positions in international companies.
Different generations.
Different working styles.
Different definitions of urgency, creativity, professionalism, and success.
And somehow, I’m learning from all of them.
It’s fascinating how much you can discover when you’re no longer operating within the same organizational structure every day.
Of course, there’s a downside.
My dating life?
Practically abandoned.
Somewhere between client presentations, meetings, deadlines, and endless WhatsApp conversations, romance has quietly taken a back seat.
Would I like a lovely dinner date and someone to share stories with at the end of the day?
Absolutely.
Am I currently choosing to finish my projects instead?
Also absolutely.
Perhaps romance can wait until I’ve cleared a few more deadlines.
Or perhaps someone will eventually find my calendar management skills incredibly attractive.
Who knows?
So, What’s Next?
I don’t have a perfectly curated answer.
For someone who has spent years building strategies, planning campaigns, and helping brands figure out their next move, it’s rather amusing that my own life currently comes without a presentation deck.
No five-year forecast.
No guaranteed outcomes.
Just a growing collection of experiences, a little more courage, and the occasional emotional breakdown that apparently comes with personal development.
But something has shifted.
I’m no longer waiting for everything to feel certain before allowing myself to move forward.
I’m learning that I can be confident and vulnerable.
Ambitious and afraid.
Independent and still need people.
I can miss an old friendship without wanting it back in the same form.
I can be proud of my decisions while still wondering whether I’ve made the right ones.
And I can build something new without having to prove to everyone that I know exactly what I’m doing.
Maybe adulthood isn’t about finally having everything figured out.
Maybe it’s about becoming comfortable with the fact that you probably never will.
For now, I’m choosing the projects that excite me, the people who bring something meaningful into my life, and the uncomfortable conversations that help me understand myself a little better.
And somewhere along the way, I’m learning to be kinder to the eight-year-old girl who helped me get here.
Life has been unpredictable, exhausting, occasionally heartbreaking, and wonderfully exciting.
And for the first time in a while, I’m not particularly interested in knowing exactly how the story ends.
I’m just excited to see what happens next.