I landed in Norway at 19, with a suitcase, a dream, and absolutely no idea what I was walking into.
I left Singapore—the heat, the family, the only life I knew—for the cold. I thought I was running toward love. I was really running away from the silence inside myself.
That was 30 years ago.
In those three decades, I have been married twice. Divorced twice. I have loved wolves in sheep’s clothing. I have built a life in a country that was never quite home, and I have carried a vision of a warm place that never quite faded.
I have also been broken open—by bureaucracy, by my own patterns, and by the long, quiet winters that force you to sit with yourself.
Now, I am not running anymore. I am training.
I write about what I have lived: childhood trauma, marriage, escape, depression, survival, and the slow work of becoming someone who does not need saving. I write about the five psychic gifts I was born with, and about the parts of my story that belong behind a locked door.
I am not a therapist. I am someone who has walked through what you are walking through, and who will listen without judgment.
This blog is my monastery. It is where I document the journey from survival to sovereignty—from being chosen to choosing myself.
If you have ever felt out of place, or broken, or like you are meant for more than this—you are not alone. You are not crazy. You are just waking up.
Welcome to the fire.
