How to live a life that doesn’t make sense

Becoming the villain in other people’s stories

The first time I listened to my gut was in 2016, when it told me I liked girls.

It came from a part of a depth within me that I didn’t know existed. Up until then, at twenty, I was a person moulded by expectations: my biological family, my Catholic school, my Indonesian neighbourhood. I chose the subjects they said would “fit my potential.” I dated the guy they deemed “mature enough for me.” I went to university and picked a subject that “would open doors for me.”

In the midst of being shoved and prodded along by my environment, I lost myself. I didn’t know what I liked or what I didn’t like. I didn’t even think my preferences mattered — anything I showed an affinity for would be swiftly crushed by an adult bellowing, “you don’t know what’s good for you.”

So every time I felt a pull towards something, I’d ask: Is this the decision my parents would make? Would my school teachers approve? I didn’t even buy a dress without WhatsApp approval from my mother.

At the peak of it, I couldn’t even tell you my favourite colour.

Somewhere between the blinking lights of undergraduate dorms I became attuned to a frequency I hadn’t noticed before.

My gut.

At first it was a quiet nudge — “The girl from operations class today was pretty, eh?” Then it coughed and cleared its throat and squeaked louder — “Sooo that girl from the year above looks pretty cute.” One day I couldn’t ignore it anymore — “I think you might be gay.”

I hadn’t made many decisions for myself until then. Everything I knew said being gay was “wrong.” My family would disown me. My religion wouldn’t want me. My country would definitely hate me.

And yet, in one irreversible and irrevocable decision, I came out.

By no measure was this a decision anyone would call “rational.” The smarter, safer route was to keep it inside and live a life that ruffled as few feathers as possible, leaving the world undisturbed by my natural impulses.

Instead I chose to listen to my gut and accept whatever consequences came. I lost friends, received unsolicited “hey do you wanna come to church?” messages from my high school teachers, and ignored the incessant WhatsApp pings from my mom whenever she heard gossip — which she took out on me, the source of her problem.

The path I chose didn’t make sense to some people. So they whispered behind my back as I followed my gut, walking further and further away until I couldn’t hear them anymore.

But I couldn’t ignore my family. I tried to reason with them. They were scared my career would be jeopardised. I told them I was receiving recognition from senior management because of my leadership in the LGBTQ+ space.

They weren’t happy, so I tried “don’t ask, don’t tell.” I spent trips hyping myself up to be the perfect daughter. I wanted them to know that despite my sexuality, I was still the same daughter they knew. I could still be the perfect daughter if they overlooked this part.

But I was already a disappointment anyway. So why stop there?

I got angry. I was angry they didn’t see me. I was frustrated that I’d had to hide this part of myself from the two people who raised me. So when they berated me over the phone once more in October 2022, I cut them off.

The path I chose didn’t make sense to some people. They would tell me, “ya ga gitu juga lah, Beck” — You don’t need to do that, that’s too much. So I walked on and followed my gut, further and further away until those voices ceased to exist.

And in the meantime, I was toiling my way in the drab, grey walls of an investment bank. We had office views overlooking the Victoria Harbour, but we were all trapped in a tall financial building, unable to gallivant away without helping The Man add more digits to his income statement.

The career ladder existed. Healthcare was good. Time off was paid. Job security was a given.

Yet something kept pulling me away from the cubicles. Instead of spending lunch breaks complaining to colleagues, I took a sketchbook and a video camera outdoors to film a YouTube video. Instead of Netflix and chilling after hours, I typed words on this orange-and-black platform (yes, I’m on dark mode) and published my thoughts to some 500 strangers. Instead of spending Easter offline, I was editing newsletters for an online-first writing course.

This March, I handed in my notice and traded skirts and heels for jeans and sneakers. I left corporate to join the creator economy.

A few months later, before the dust from blowing my life up had settled, I detonated a second bomb and packed my whole life in twenty boxes.

The path I chose didn’t make sense to some people. They would say, “I guess you can do it because you’re still young.” So I walked on.

They’re still in earshot, though. And boy, do those voices get to me.

I wish walking away got easier each time. But the words sting. The whispers keep me up at night. The echoes bounce off the walls in my head even after the interactions have long passed.

And it’s in those moments I am reminded to attune the frequency to my gut. It’s been right this whole time. It’s been true this whole time. It’s just surrounded by the ghosts of people walking a different path.

I saw my therapist Angie again recently. I said, “My truth lies in the complex story, in all of its nuances and crevices. But I know how stories spread. People will latch on to the simpler, juicier narrative. Even if it’s wrong.”

“Well,” she countered, “how comfortable are you being the villain in other people’s stories? You’ve survived this before. You have taken so much backlash for coming out and listening to your gut. You have what it takes to live a life that’s true to you.”

People who go on the pathless path makes it look so easy. Optically it does. They are living the life that is true to them, so of course they are thriving, of course they are glowing.

But what often goes unsaid is the pain of shedding people who were around for a season. When you made pacts that you’d be BFFs, included them in milestone photos, shared your deepest secrets, you did it in faith they’d stick around.

Then you decide to walk a different path, and your decisions don’t make sense to them anymore.

So you part ways.

And each goodbye stings.

In consolation, the path you choose is rarely solitary. I’ve met other mapless wanderers, all as confused as I am. A bunch of us gather around a campfire every other Monday, trying to recalibrate our compasses, as if rubbing the needle with a magnet will eventually point us somewhere. We give shoutouts on social media — a proverbial megaphone for fellow directionless folk. We tie bright ropes to tree branches to signal to new explorers: this path has been travelled and is safe to try.

Because at the end of the day, when night falls and rain pours, the path I chose doesn’t make sense to some people. I look through a telescope and they seem sheltered in comfortable, cookie-cutter houses. I can almost hear the chatter of their dinner conversations. I was once part of them. Their dialogues centre around work, family, and weekend birthday parties.

But I walk on and follow my gut, going further and further away until those voices cease to exist.

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Update log:

• 📣 Wrote about the makings of a 1 of 10 video for Ali Abdaal on LinkedIn and I got a snazzy shoutout in his newsletter. (Bonus: Samir commented on the post!)

• 🌀 Allegedly, the biggest typhoon since 2018 is about to hit Hong Kong, shutting down the city for about 2 days. As a household of one, I didn’t need to prepare so much food, but I’m glad I spent last week stocking up my pantry.

• 📱 Really liking this tinted aesthetic of the new iOS liquid glass. I had been wanting to do a monochromatic look ever since Matt D’Avella did his minimalist phone setup but I guess procrastinating worked in my favour.

• 🧳 About to depart Hong Kong for a month starting from this Sunday. Don’t think I’ve been away from home for this long since... 2016?? I’m a lover for routines so this should be fun. But I also think I need this “hard reset” in the current juncture of my life.

• 👀 Started doing work for my first LinkedIn ghostwriting client.

• 📃 Set up water and electricity bills at my new flat. Very fun adulting stuff.

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