Sympathetic vs. Parasympathetic: Your Body’s Stress and Recovery Systems
Stress isn’t just in your head—it’s written into your nervous system. The human body has two main “gears” for handling life: the sympathetic and parasympathetic systems. Psychiatrist Alex Dimitriu, MD, explains it simply: “While the sympathetic system helps you deal with things and get stuff done, the parasympathetic system helps you rest, heal, digest, and recover.”
Think of the sympathetic system as your body’s gas pedal. It powers you up in stressful situations—whether that’s rushing to meet a deadline, running late to an appointment, or facing a real threat. This is the classic fight-or-flight response: your heart rate climbs, your breathing quickens, your muscles tense, and energy is diverted away from digestion so your body can stay alert and ready for action.
But you can’t live with your foot on the gas all the time. That’s where the parasympathetic system—your body’s brake pedal—steps in. Often called rest-and-digest, this system slows your heart rate, supports digestion, calms your breathing, and shifts resources back to repair and recovery. It’s the state you need for good sleep, proper nutrient absorption, and long-term health.
The trouble is that modern life pushes many of us to stay stuck in sympathetic overdrive. Constant emails, noise, notifications, financial worries, and packed schedules trick the body into feeling like it’s always under threat. Over time, this imbalance can wear you down—contributing to anxiety, high blood pressure, gut problems, and even weakened immunity.
The good news is that you can train your nervous system to shift gears. Practices like deep breathing, meditation, yoga, and even simply walking outside all activate the parasympathetic system. Prioritizing real rest, taking breaks from screens, and setting boundaries around work also give your body the signal that it’s safe to recover.
Balance is the key. You need both systems—sympathetic for energy and focus, parasympathetic for repair and resilience. Understanding how they work helps you notice when you’re revving too high and gives you tools to consciously slow down.
When stress shows up, remember: the gas pedal gets you through, but the brake keeps you alive and well.
Ikigai: The Art of Living with Purpose
In Japanese culture, there is a beautiful word—Ikigai (pronounced ee-kee-guy). It means “a reason for being” or “a reason to wake up in the morning.” It is often described as the intersection of four key elements:
What do you love
What are you good at
What the world needs
What you can be paid for
When these four come together, they form a sense of fulfilment and balance. Ikigai is not only about career or success; it is about finding meaning in the everyday and aligning life with purpose.
Reflecting on my own journey, I realize that my search for Ikigai has been shaped by both struggles and growth. There were seasons of life where I felt lost—defined by external roles, responsibilities, or relationships that left me questioning my worth. Those were the cracks where doubt entered moments when I wondered if I truly had a purpose.
Yet, each hardship became a teacher. Through experiences of betrayal, heartbreak, and rebuilding my life, I discovered resilience, strength, and clarity. My passion for learning, for connecting deeply with people, and for supporting others in their healing became clearer with time. I began to see that my Ikigai was not something “out there” waiting to be found—it was something within me, revealed through both the joy and the pain of my journey.
Ikigai does not have to be grand. It can be found in small things—a meaningful conversation, writing words that touch another heart, or guiding someone through a difficult moment. For me, it has also been about embracing the role of a mother, a learner, and a counselor-in-the-making, knowing that each of these roles weaves into my reason for being.
The beauty of Ikigai is that it evolves as we do. What gives meaning today may shift tomorrow. But the essence remains the same: to live in alignment with who we are, what we value, and how we contribute to the world around us.
Ikigai reminds us that purpose is not something we chase—it is something we nurture within ourselves each day. It is the quiet joy of living a life that feels true.
Where Wisdom Reigns: Harmony Between Thinking and Feeling
True wisdom is not found in choosing between logic and emotion but in creating a bridge where both can coexist. Where wisdom reigns, there is no conflict between thinking and feeling—because each supports the other. Wisdom understands that the intellect without empathy can become cold and calculating, while feelings without discernment may lead to chaos. But when they come together, they form a powerful inner compass.
We often grow up in environments that teach us to prioritize one over the other. We hear phrases like “don’t be so emotional” or “think with your head, not your heart.” Yet the heart and the mind are not enemies; they are allies. Wise individuals learn to listen to their emotions without being ruled by them. They also learn to analyze and reason while staying connected to their inner truth.
Wisdom invites us to pause before reacting, to understand before judging, and to align our choices with both our values and our intuition. It is not about suppressing emotion or overanalyzing life. Instead, it’s about integrating the messages our feelings offer with the insights our minds provide.
When thinking and feeling walk hand in hand, our decisions become more compassionate, balanced, and authentic. We navigate relationships with greater understanding, we speak with both clarity and kindness, and we are less likely to betray ourselves or others in the process.
In this integrated space—where wisdom reigns—we are no longer torn between the heart and the mind. We are whole. And wholeness is where true peace, clarity, and depth of character reside.
Micromanaging Your Relationships and Its Side Effects
In professional settings, we often hear about the pitfalls of micromanagement—how it stifles growth, kills creativity, and breeds resentment. Interestingly, the same concept applies to personal relationships. When we micromanage the people we love—whether a partner, friend, or family member—we end up suffocating the very bond we are trying to protect.
Micromanagement in relationships shows up in subtle ways: constantly checking on someone’s actions, trying to control how they speak, correcting their choices, or monitoring their every move. At first, it may feel like “care” or “concern,” but in reality, it often stems from insecurity, fear of losing control, or lack of trust. Over time, this behaviour chips away at intimacy and freedom, two essential pillars of any healthy connection.
One of the biggest side effects of micromanaging is the erosion of trust. When someone feels they are under constant supervision, it sends the message that they are not capable of handling their own life or decisions. This can lead to frustration, withdrawal, or even rebellion. Instead of feeling supported, the person begins to feel judged and restricted.
Another consequence is emotional exhaustion. The one who micromanages often lives in a state of anxiety, believing they must oversee everything to avoid mistakes or conflict. This creates a cycle of stress, where both partners end up drained—one from controlling and the other from being controlled.
Micromanaging also stifles individuality. Every person has a unique rhythm, style, and way of expressing themselves. When we try to mould our loved ones into our version of “how things should be,” we strip them of authenticity. This doesn’t just harm them; it robs us of the chance to experience the beauty of their true self.
Healthy relationships thrive on trust, respect, and space. Instead of micromanaging, try practising open communication and acceptance. Allow your partner or loved ones to make their own choices—even if they are different from yours. Recognize that mistakes are part of growth, and imperfection is part of being human.
When we let go of control, we allow love to breathe. Relationships become lighter, freer, and more fulfilling when they are built not on control but on trust and mutual respect.
Kintsugi: Finding Beauty in the Cracks of Life
In Japanese culture, there is a profound concept called Kintsugi—the art of repairing broken pottery with gold. Instead of discarding the broken pieces or hiding the cracks, the fragments are carefully mended and highlighted. What was once damaged becomes even more valuable, carrying beauty not despite its flaws but because of them.
Life, in many ways, is Kintsugi. Each of us has experienced cracks—moments of heartbreak, betrayal, disappointment, or loss—that left us feeling broken. It is tempting to hide these scars or to wish they had never happened. Yet, the philosophy of Kintsugi reminds us that our scars are not the end of our story; they are part of the design that shapes us into who we are.
Looking back on my own journey, I see the golden seams in the most difficult chapters of my relationships and personal life. Times of pain and struggle pushed me to grow in resilience, wisdom, and self-awareness. Though I once saw only brokenness, I now recognize the gold that lines those cracks—the strength, the compassion, and the lessons that could only be born through hardship.
The beauty of Kintsugi is not only in honouring the past but also in how it transforms the future. It teaches us responsibility: to mend what can be mended, to acknowledge what has been broken, and to move forward with integrity. Just as pottery requires care and intention to be restored, so too do our relationships and personal journeys.
Kintsugi whispers that brokenness does not define us—it refines us. The cracks do not diminish our worth; they reveal our strength, our resilience, and our humanity. When we embrace them with grace, we become not only whole again but more beautiful, meaningful, and authentic than ever before.
Awakening Through Inner Vision
Carl Jung once said, “Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.” In these words lies a profound truth about human consciousness and self-realization.
We live in a world that constantly encourages outward striving — to chase goals, admiration, possessions, and recognition. This outward gaze fuels our dreams, hopes, and fantasies. While dreaming is beautiful, it can often keep us trapped in illusions if we forget to look within. Dreams birthed solely from external influences may never truly satisfy our soul because they are shaped by what the world wants from us, not what we deeply desire.
To truly awaken, we must look inward. Our hearts hold our deepest truths, wounds, values, and purpose. Only by facing ourselves—our fears, insecurities, passions, and longings—can we gain clarity on what truly matters. Inner exploration leads to authenticity. It anchors us. It strips away the noise and distractions of the external world and brings us home to ourselves.
Looking within isn’t always easy. It requires courage to face what we often avoid. But through this inward journey, we don’t just find clarity—we find peace. We begin to live with intention, integrity, and a sense of purpose that no external dream could ever offer.
When you awaken from within, the outer world starts to reflect your inner truth. Your visions no longer come from a place of longing but from deep alignment. You stop chasing and begin creating.
The Human Touch: Beyond Theories and Techniques
In a world increasingly driven by information, logic, and specialization, we are taught to master the rules, to know the theories, and to perfect the techniques. In the realms of psychology, counselling, medicine, education, and even leadership, expertise is praised—and rightly so. But amid all the tools we acquire and the knowledge we accumulate, there lies a profound truth: When you touch a human soul, be just another human soul.
This quote serves as a deep reminder that no matter how skilled or intelligent we become, what truly connects us as human beings is our shared vulnerability, our common emotional landscape, and our ability to feel with one another. Compassion and empathy are not techniques—they are human qualities that cannot be faked or substituted.
Too often, in the pursuit of success or problem-solving, we reduce others to projects or cases. We may unconsciously fall into the trap of diagnosing, labeling, or fixing, forgetting that each person we encounter is not a puzzle to be solved, but a soul to be seen, heard, and understood. A child acting out in school, a partner withdrawing in a relationship, and a colleague shutting down during conflict—all are often silently yearning for connection, not correction.
Empathy invites us to step out of our own world and enter the emotional world of another. It means we put aside our judgments, our assumptions, and our ego, and simply be present. It’s about sitting with someone in their moment of despair without trying to change it, allowing them to feel safe enough to be real, raw, and honest. This is not a weakness. It’s a profound strength.
Compassion, on the other hand, goes a step further. It sees the pain and wants to ease it—not from a place of superiority, but from shared humanity. Compassion does not look down or pity; it stands beside. It reminds us that suffering, struggle, joy, and hope are threads woven through all of us. No one is immune, and no one is less deserving of dignity and kindness.
In relationships—be it with a friend, a partner, a child, a client, or even a stranger—it is not our intelligence or eloquence that heals; it is our presence. People rarely remember the exact words we say, but they always remember how we made them feel. Were they safe with us? Seen? Validated? That is the mark of true connection.
So, yes, by all means, pursue knowledge. Learn the theories. Master the techniques. But remember that the heart of any real relationship is not in what you do, but in how you be. When you sit across from another human soul, strip away the armour of expertise and meet them with your own soul—with honesty, humility, and an open heart.
Because at the end of the day, we are not machines solving problems. We are humans seeking understanding, healing, and love. And the most transformative moments in life often come not from being fixed, but from being deeply felt and authentically held.
Every Relationship Is a Mirror: Learning Who You Are Through Love
Romantic relationships are more than just companionship. They are living laboratories where we discover, sometimes painfully, sometimes joyfully, who we are and what we want in life.
When you fall for someone, you aren’t just meeting them; you’re meeting yourself in a new context. You see how you respond to intimacy, how you handle conflict, and where your boundaries lie.
The Gift of Toxic Relationships
Not all relationships are meant to last. Some exist to show you what not to tolerate.
A toxic connection might reveal:
You abandon your needs to keep the peace.
You tolerate disrespect because you fear being alone.
You ignore red flags in the name of love.
It’s tempting to write these experiences off as wasted time, but they’re often crash courses in self-respect. Once you see the patterns, you can break them.
The Power of Loving Relationships
Healthy love feels different — not perfect, but safe.
A loving relationship will teach you:
Your needs are valid and deserve to be met.
Mutual respect and trust aren’t negotiable extras; they’re the foundation.
Love is not about losing yourself but becoming more of yourself.
When someone loves you well, it sets a new standard. It becomes clear what’s worth fighting for — and what’s not.
The Bottom Line: Whether it’s heartbreak or harmony, each relationship is a teacher. Some hand you caution signs, others hand you roadmaps. Together, they shape a clearer vision of who you are and what you will and won’t allow in your life.
You don’t need to thank every ex, but you can thank yourself for listening to the lessons. That’s how you move forward with more clarity, confidence, and self-respect than you had before.
Goodbye, Johor – My Chapter of Becoming
Nine years ago, I came to Johor for my daughters’ education, never knowing that this place would become both a sanctuary and a battlefield for my own evolution.
What began as a brief chapter turned into a transformative journey. Then came the lockdowns, the world paused during lockdowns, and so did I—only to find myself again. COVID confined me, but so did heartbreak, betrayal, and a deep, aching isolation.
In 2022, I chose to rise. I pursued my master’s, not just in academics, but in life, in resilience, in soul-work.
Nusajaya, Johor became my wilderness, My Valley of Tears, a school of hard knocks that stripped me raw down to the soul level.
There were moments when I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. Moments where everything familiar had to be unlearned. But it was also here that I learned to breathe again, rebuild from within, and stand stronger.
But in the breaking, I learned.
In the solitude, I healed.
I unlearned so much of who I thought I was,
and slowly relearned who I was meant to become.
This land held my pain, my prayers, my breakdowns, and my breakthroughs. It witnessed the woman I was and the one I fought to become.
Now, I leave not with bitterness but with gratitude.
For every storm that shaped me.
For every quiet night that healed me.
For every scar that turned into wisdom.
As I prepare to write my solo chapter, I carry the echoes of Johor within me, not as chains but as wings.
Goodbye, Johor.
Thank you for the fire.
Thank you for the ashes.
And thank you, most of all, for the rebirth.
Thank you for all the friends met here who are my lifetime soul family.
A Mother’s Unseen Truth
There are parts of my story I’ve never spoken aloud about, not because I was hiding but because I was trying to survive. I carried love, pain, and silence all at once. And somewhere along the way, I lost the space to express my truth.
My children say their childhood was painful. They speak of trauma, emotional wounds, of moments where they felt alone and not understood in a house that was supposed to feel like home. Hearing this shatters me in ways words can not explain because I never wanted to be the reason for their darkness.
I tried to protect them. I asked that our arguments be kept away from their eyes and ears. I tried to be the stable one, the present one. I stayed, day in and day out, when their father was often away. I chose to be a full-time mother, not because I had no ambition but because I wanted to be the one walking beside them through every emotional storm.
But in that choice, I somehow became the villain.
While I set rules and boundaries, while I held the weight of their growing pains and emotions, the other parent became the favourite, the one who came home with gifts, not expectations. The one who said yes while I said no. The one who stood apart from the chaos while I was drowning in it.
And now, they look at me and sometimes see only the frustration. The tired voice. The broken parts. They don’t see the woman who stayed up all night worrying. The one who wrote letters in the dark just to be heard. The one who forgot her own needs to meet theirs. The one who tried to protect them from what she couldn’t even process in herself.
There are moments I replay the moments where I was misunderstood, spoken to with sharpness, made to feel invisible in the presence of my own children. And I wonder if, without knowing it, they’ve carried the distrust they witnessed growing up and placed it on me.
All I ever wanted was to be seen. It’s not as perfect. Not even as right. Just as someone who gave everything she had. Someone who stayed.
My emotions are real. My love was constant. While I will always carry the weight of my mistakes, I hope they can someday see the full picture, not just the fragments shaped by pain.
Because underneath it all, there was always love. There still is.
Sometimes, the strongest love goes unnoticed, not because it is absent but because it is constant. When a mother carries both the fire and the weight of the home, she may be seen as the storm when, in truth, she is the shelter. Healing begins when we dare to speak our truth, not to be right, but to be real. And maybe, just maybe, to finally be seen.
SELF LOVE AND SOUL HEALING 