Unlearning What We Thought Kept Us Safe

 

(Photo owned by Mathias Arseneau on pexels)

“Ry, I think I need to prepare myself in case I end up being alone for the rest of my life.”

Ary lit his new cigarette, slid his phone slowly aside, then looked me in the eye.

“Aren’t you already doing that now? I mean, you’ve been doing it for—I don’t know—how long now? And you’ve always taken good care of yourself. Why don’t you try changing your mindset and approach? You need to prepare yourself for when the right man comes into your life. Prepare yourself for great things and the best people. Don’t always expect the worst.”

That was our last conversation when I was in Jakarta, spending a few hours with him and his wife. And it hit me hard.

Ary is one of my oldest best friends—our friendship has lasted nearly sixteen years. We used to try to make a living in the same neighborhood in South Jakarta: Bulungan, Mahakam, and Falatehan, to be exact. I was busking and selling bootleg merchandise. He was scraping through trash bins, looking for anything he could recycle or resell. Yes, we used to live like that—on the street.

Now here we are: he and his wife, and me—with Bella, my cat (not a person, though she acts like one sometimes). We both have roofs over our heads and cigarettes we didn’t dig out of a pavement or trash bin.

(Photo owned by Alifia Harina on pexels)

I can’t remember when exactly I adopted this “prepare for the worst” mindset. It’s just always been there—whether in my career or personal life. Maybe I’ve spent so long believing I’m not worthy of great things or good people. Maybe those old beliefs and survival patterns have been running the show for years. That’s why when Ary said what he said—it landed hard, right in the mind and heart. And it stopped me from justifying what I’d said earlier.

Ary and his wife were two of the few people who stood by me when the ground gave out beneath my feet last year. After I had made the worst decision of my life, they held my hands and kept reassuring me when I didn’t know how to stand on my own.

And today, I found myself thinking about that moment again—sitting in my room, sipping a super cold Lindeman’s, lighting my third cigarette in five minutes, with Bella curled up beside me. And surprisingly, I’m not bitter. I’m not angry. I’m just… processing. Maybe even honoring what happened.

I’m still learning how to shift my mindset, my beliefs, and the way I’ve always braced for impact. It’s not easy. But having the awareness of our bad habits, old narratives, and outdated survival tactics—and being willing to make small changes every day—is something. Those small shifts pile up. They build the path forward. They become our stairs, our anchors, or maybe even a thread to hold on to when everything else feels thin.

Like Epictetus said: “Devote the rest of your life to making progress.”

(Photo owned by Kammeran Gonzalez-Keola on pexels)

I keep forgetting that I already have so many good things and good people in my life. I have a roof over my head. I have a steady job and income. I have friends who check in on me, even from miles away. And still—I look for what’s missing. I chase what I maybe don’t even need.

Maybe I’m not like my mum, who has unwavering faith in God or the universe while still doing her best every day. Or like my sister and brother, who keep moving forward while carefully tending to old wounds. But maybe it’s okay that I’m still learning. Maybe it’s enough that I’m still trying to accept myself.

And maybe, just maybe, the growing pains from old decisions don’t have to keep hurting us today. We don’t need to stay stuck in the past. That kind of stagnation is loud, heavy, and familiar. I’ve been there. I know how that feels.

So here’s my reminder—to you and to myself- keep going. Even baby steps count. We can’t change the past, but we can build something better from here.

Ubud, 10th April 2025
"I Don't Know Why" - Moony