I didn't start the day feeling great, but I was okay — or at least normal. Then, as noon approached, my energy suddenly dropped. I was standing in front of the elevator and walked in with a Sales colleague. We had a casual chat, and he mentioned an interview he had that afternoon. We said goodbye as we stepped out. I went to the restroom before heading out for lunch, and a question suddenly popped into my mind: "Should I continue living as a career woman, or should I choose a different life?" Both thoughts scared me.

At that moment, I knew I was going through a wave of depression.

Seeing the Sales leader struggling to hire a capable team member made me think about how tough their job is. It also reminded me of what was shared at the Asia Sales Meeting that morning — that the local business is facing difficulties, along with the disappointing news that a new product launch opportunity had been officially turned down.

At the same time, my mind fast-forwarded to the upcoming Marketing Leaders call on Tuesday night, hosted by our CMO, to discuss the new brand positioning. A thought came to me: "Am I over-prepared?" I had spent hours reviewing the materials she sent, and I even replayed the recording of a separate call organized by colleagues with the APAC marketing leaders, including me.

The Marketing Leaders call is a completely new experience for me. After nearly 30 years in the financial industry, I've never really worked with a global marketing team on a regular basis. I've always operated quite independently as part of the local business unit. I know the market, I use my own language, I communicate with local teams, and I run campaigns for a local audience.

Now, with the integration of the two organizations, I'm stepping into a new world. I'm no longer working as a standalone local entity. Especially at this initial stage of rebranding, I'm now part of a global marketing team. I need to ensure global alignment while still running the local business.

These marketing meetings often stress me out. I'm the only non-native English speaker in the room, where everyone is expected to contribute ideas and offer constructive feedback. At the same time, I'm dealing with my language challenges.

So, the question "Am I over-prepared?" — no, I don't think so. Being prepared reassures me. It helps me feel as comfortable as possible by building familiarity with what to expect in those meetings.

While I was ordering my food, a message popped up. A former work partner reached out and wanted to meet. I hesitated to respond because I wasn't in a good state. I wondered why — and I think it's because engaging with him has often taken a lot of energy over the past few years. He has been constantly struggling with job-related issues and has relied on me for support and advice.

Knowing how much energy it would take set me back. But it doesn't mean I don't care. I just lack the energy right now, and I don't feel capable of having a conversation that would truly help him — especially when I myself am in need of emotional support. I need an outlet for my own emotional burden.

So after struggling for a while, I replied, "I'll check my calendar and get back to you," when what I really meant was, "I don't know if I'm emotionally ready to talk."

Lord, I place this in Your hands. I know all he truly needs is You. Bring him into a simple church life, where he can find peace. May Your blessings be with him, his wife, and his son. May Jesus be the center of his family. Every time I place my burdens in God's hands through prayer, I feel an immediate sense of peace.

I finished my lunch and began writing down my thoughts.

Looking around the cafe, it was filled mostly with older people who seemed retired. This crowded space became my temporary shelter — people chatting loudly, laughing freely, or working on their laptops. After releasing my emotions and putting my depression into words, I felt that part of me had begun to heal.

Maybe that's what "flow" means. I read an article yesterday titled "When You Flow, Life Follows," which said that writing itself is a form of mental flow. The act of writing brings clarity and calm.

I could finally breathe again.

Sometimes I wonder — maybe it's not just my problems. Maybe the world itself is overwhelming. People like me simply can't ignore the energy around us. How can I live in such a chaotic world without losing my mind?

I dreamed of my mother-in-law last night, who passed away last year. She comes back alive in my dreams from time to time. Even after she's gone, her impact on our marriage remains. The trauma from that forced coexistence will take time to heal.

At least her suffering has ended. For those who have passed, there's no longer the burden of daily life. But for those of us still living, there's nowhere to escape. We have to keep going, even when we wish for a pause — a short break that never comes.

Isn't that cruel?

I still replied, "I'm available this Thursday," though reluctantly, and quickly received his thanks. Lord, I need You to be with me during this upcoming lunch. I feel incapable of handling what he's going through. Even just being there to listen with care feels heavy.

I know he needs strong support — but I'm simply not the right person. I feel fragile, like a straw. I'm afraid of what's coming. I'm afraid I won't be able to handle the emotional weight. I'm afraid I might feel annoyed by his indecisiveness and unintentionally judge him for overthinking.

I'm even afraid I might side with his wife — comparing him to my husband, who seems like a completely different species.

I struggled with whether I should share this on social media. The safest choice, for many, is to tell no one — to keep everything inside because it feels so private.

But after seeing so many tragedies, I can't help but wonder: is that really the safest way? Or is it the opposite?

Maybe we need to open up — to let our vulnerability be seen. To find a safe space and share with people who might be going through the same struggles, or who have been there before. To let emotions flow, instead of trapping them inside.

What we perceive as the safest choice might actually be the most dangerous. When we keep everything inside, emotions accumulate until we can no longer handle them. And one day, the system collapses.

The moment we say, "That's enough. I'm done."

But I also understand why people choose silence. Opening up can invite judgment or criticism. Yet at the same time, it might also bring more support than we ever imagined.

And I tend to believe — it brings more benefit than harm.