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Life has felt a little up and down lately. Some days are perfectly fine. Other days, nothing particularly bad has happened, yet I feel low. It could be because I have spent the whole day at home, hardly spoken to anyone, or simply because I am not seeing much result from the things I have been working on.
One of the questions I keep carrying is whether I should find a job again. I have sent out applications for months with almost no response, and sometimes I think perhaps I should stop waiting and simply do something practical, even drive Grab for a while.
At the same time, there is another part of me that still believes I am meant to do something different with this stage of my life. I have this picture in my mind of building something online, eventually having enough financial freedom to truly retire without worry, travel, and live more freely than I have ever been able to before. The picture feels clear to me. The way towards it does not.
Yesterday, while I was out running errands, I was listening to a sermon by Pastor Joel Osteen on Spotify. He was speaking about God's plan and not worrying so much about what lies ahead, and somewhere during the journey I suddenly realised how little I had been stopping to simply thank God.
I opened the group chat for my care group and wrote a longer message than usual. I thanked Jesus for being able to move freely and go wherever I needed to go, for waking up with a fresh mind, energy and strength, for the good weather, and for the smooth journey on public transport.
Then I found myself thanking Him for things that were less visible: the peace that has been growing in me, the faith and trust that have slowly deepened, His presence, and the blessings I sometimes overlook because my attention is already on the next thing I need to solve.
It probably looked like a very ordinary message, but for me it was not. It was the first time I had openly shared something so genuine about the gratitude and peace I was feeling. Nobody had asked me to, and I was not trying to sound faithful or positive. The words simply came because that was honestly how I felt at that moment.
Later, I realised that this peacefulness did not begin yesterday. Something has been changing quietly since the end of last year.
There were two unexpected moments with two different people that shifted something in me. One helped me finally release much of the painful past I had carried for so long. The other helped me recognise something I had never seen clearly before: how deeply control had shaped the way I lived.
For much of my life, I believed I was simply being responsible, careful and prepared. I thought planning ahead, analysing situations and trying to anticipate what might happen were signs of strength. Only later did I begin to see how much of it came from a need to make myself feel safe.
Since then, I have started noticing small differences in myself.
Things that once stayed in my mind for hours are sometimes easier to leave alone. I still worry, but I do not automatically follow every worry into another round of thinking. I still make plans, but I am beginning to accept that not everything can be planned into certainty.
Even patience feels different to me now. There used to be a strong urgency to know what was happening, what someone meant, what I should do next, or whether something would work out. That urgency has softened.
Nothing in my practical situation has suddenly changed. I am still without a clear answer about work. I still do not know whether the things I am building will eventually lead where I hope they will. There are still lonely days and moments when doubt returns.
But yesterday reminded me that those uncertainties no longer occupy all the space they once did.
There was room for gratitude instead.
Perhaps that is what I have been noticing all along. Life around me has not suddenly become quieter.
Something inside me has.