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  • Writer's pictureSquid Wan

Lost and Found – What 37 feels like

If you’re like me, this will be our second time trying to kickstart a professional but personal blog. And by professional, I mean, a blog I intend to commit to writing once a week, and for these personal reasons:


1. To reunite with my inner writer, the creative self who has been mothering my inner child all these years while I seek healing for us all

2. I read that journaling is highly recommended in the journey of healing

3. Lastly, I’d like to add and give back to the growing content bank of resources online, that has helped me through my personal struggles, in hopes that my voice will help someone too.


As this will probably be a moment that will go down in history *ahem*, I’d like to add that I started writing this at a window seat in a cafe on South Bridge Road, Singapore, after consuming their Big Breakfast with a tiny glass of Ginger Beer, and cruising the rest of the afternoon with a 6oz latte. This is not how a typical day looks, but it's definitely one I don’t mind having on the regular.


Circling back to today’s topic: Lost and Found. My identity was lost, and what needs to be found is a new, improved one. I’m 37 and it’s too early for a mid-life crisis, yet also at the same time I am at risk of losing my bottom two front teeth to a gum infection. This was definitely not how I envisioned ending the year and I am determined that it will not end this way — not if I can help it. After HUGE strides, I made this year, I feel entitled to a more pleasant ending.


You see, when the year started I was in an unhappy, unfulfilling relationship, it was a relationship I felt I needed to stay in to make it work, but truth be told, we were miserable. As much as I can blame it on everyone and everything, deep down I know that it's nobody’s fault and if I wanted to blame someone, I could only blame myself. I had opened myself up to a new relationship before taking the time to heal from the last one and boy, the last one was SO BAD like BAD BAD. I could have been wiser and more disciplined and should have insisted on taking the time and space to not be in a new anything-ship because I truly needed time to heal, and more importantly, I needed to know myself on my own again.


So here I am, at the end of 2022, finally, single. It’s been a month and a half of being solo, and it has been filled with discoveries of self, and of the world around me. I’ve managed to come out of the social anxiety I developed during the pandemic and I’m reshaping my identity by closing the chapters to the past that no longer serve me and learning to be besties with the version of me that I want to grow old with. I’m not closed off to meeting someone new but I’m not eager to meet them on dating apps. Truth be told, I’ve always wanted to meet someone at a library, or a cafe, or when I’m working out or on my walks, or while I’m invested in my work or a book, or while I’m listening to a podcast — smiling and nodding in agreement, just laughing to myself — because that’s what I want them to love about me. That's what I love most about me. I know what you're thinking, But Squid, that’s not how you meet lovers these days. I guess right now I am willing to wait.


On the bright side, I’m a flosser now who brushes two times a day, and will see the dentist not annually but every 6 months. I suggest you do the same. That’s the best advice I can give you right now. Oh, and always, love yourself.


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