Season of Change: Adjusting, Adapting, and Growing

Howdy! Good day or evening, whenever you're reading this post🤗.

I'm still alive. This blog page is still alive😂. It's been almost a year, hasn't it? Honestly, I had every intention of wrapping up 2024 with a year-end blog. Then I had to put it off and decided to kick off 2025 with a hopeful hello but again failed miserably (insert exasperated sigh). I don't know. I keep going back to this draft and making hundreds of edits, but they all fell flat to me. It’s only recently that I realised I need to clear my mental clutter and that I’ve always treated my blogs like journals. And I just really miss writing random thoughts. So, here we are—rising from the ashes as if my last post wasn’t almost a year ago, bwahaha.

How are you guys? I hope all of you are doing well 'cause these past few months have been rough for me, leaving my brain feeling like overcooked spaghetti and my body stuck in a state of paralysis. Despite trying my best to be productive, I somehow kept ending up spending the weekends 'rotting' gloriously in bed and doing absolutely nothing, GUILT-FREE.

In my defence, the winter has been brutal, and for someone like me who grew up in a tropical country, the abrupt shift to a much colder climate was a shock to my system.

The biting cold was harsh (yep, snow is magical—until it turns into a soul-sucking force that drains every last bit of motivation you have). And don’t even get me started on how 4 p.m. already feels like 10 p.m. because it gets dark so early this time of year.

It didn’t help that my body kept demanding repayment for months (years!) of borrowed energy. So when it detected even the faintest opportunity to rot in bed, boi, did I rot like a pro 😂. So as much as I wanted to explore more, I just didn’t have the energy—or the right headspace—to brave the cold.

Anyway, I mentioned earlier that this blog post was supposed to be a year-end wrap-up that somehow turned into a welcome-to-2025 post and has now blossomed into a springtime entry—so I might as well say it: 2024 and the first few months of this year have flown by in a blur.

For most of us, the new year feels like a reset—a clean slate, the same way spring feels like a fresh start after a long, cold winter. We create a never-ending list of New Year’s resolutions, set some goals, and maybe some of us just reflect on how much progress we’ve made. We look back at how far we’ve come (even if it doesn’t feel like much), and we think about what could be better and more meaningful for us in the months ahead. A new year or a new season feels like a quiet renewal. It's the world’s way of pressing the refresh button—a gentle nudge forward.

And speaking of fresh starts, my 2024 wasn’t so much a reset as it was a seismic shift, a step toward something exciting after what had felt like a long period of dormancy. Just as spring brings new life after a cold, quiet winter, 2024 opened doors for me.

There were drastic changes—changes I still haven't fully wrapped my head around. I left my job, said goodbye to my home country, family and friends, and embarked on a completely new journey in a foreign place. It wasn’t an easy decision.

You know that strange mix of emotions that hits when a long-held dream finally becomes reality? The gratitude and excitement are there, but so are the doubt and anxiety.

Don't get me wrong; I'm proud of myself for having the courage to step out of my comfort zone. For the longest time, I felt stuck, watching other people move forward while feeling as though my life was on pause. And that when I took this big leap, I thought that this was what I needed; I would finally feel I was moving; I thought I’d feel nothing but relief. But the weight of everything I left behind wasn't something I anticipated. Suddenly, I felt lost, caught in limbo. I started doubting, asking myself whether I made the right choice and whether I’m ready for everything that awaits.

And then it hit me: I was just badly missing the familiar, missing home. Being miles away from everything I knew and living a completely different life than I was used to, I've come to realise that in my pursuit of something 'better', I may have taken the quieter, simpler moments back home for granted. I can’t help but wish I’d spent more time with my cats and the people I care about because I constantly find myself longing for those everyday comforts—the warm hugs, the summer getaways to the beach, the weekend hikes, the deep conversations (and yes, even the nonsensical ones), and the laughter that always left us breathless and our stomachs aching.

However, in those moments of doubt and anxiety, I kept reminding myself of the reasons that led me down this path and that I needed to face each day with one small step at a time. This is the new reality I must embrace, and I know that wallowing in homesickness won’t do me any good.

I’ve been trying to counter homesickness with little escapes to explore this beautiful country that has been my home these past few months and for the months to come. I’ve indulged in a few short but sweet getaways. From serene walks in the countryside to stumbling upon quirky little bookshops tucked away in cobbled streets, these moments have been my sanity savers.

One of the many things I was also worried about when I moved to the UK was finding connection. Making friends as an introverted adult isn’t easy—much less in a foreign country where everything feels unfamiliar and a little scary. But slowly, awkwardly, and sometimes through unexpected moments, I’ve begun to find my people. From roaming around the city centre to eating Jollibee together and hunting down the best milk tea spots—they’re part of the reason this place is starting to feel a little less foreign.

But as we got deep into winter, with temperatures plummeting and darkness settling in as early as 4 p.m., those mini-adventures took a back seat and the self-imposed room arrest took over. And then I found myself spiralling back into that familiar state of stagnation and idleness (seasonal affective disorder [SAD] is a real jerk, you guys 😩).

Amidst the mental and emotional chaos, I was also able to ponder some things.

Things tend to slow down in winter, and maybe that's nature's way of reminding us that even in the season of stillness, growth is still happening. A reminder to rest when we’re burnt out, to take a break when we don't know what to do, then start finding clarity again; progress doesn’t have to be a continuous, uninterrupted flow. Sometimes it’s messy, sometimes it’s slow, and that’s okay. Acknowledging and accepting that we all need time to rest allows us to find the space to breathe, reflect, and eventually welcome whatever comes next on our own terms, at our own pace.

And now that the days are starting to stretch longer again, the air gets a little warmer, and cheerful melodies of singing birds start filling the air. I am also starting to feel that renewed determination to face new challenges head-on.

Springtime trees and flowers serve as a reminder that nature's metamorphosis happens gradually rather than all at once. There might be a slight hesitation at first, a moment of anxiousness before stepping into something new, and uncertainty about what awaits us in the future. But these are all part of the process. And even when the path isn't clear, what matters is that we keep growing and thriving anyway, because change is subtle and gradual, and often we don’t even notice it until we look back.

Like spring itself, new beginnings don't always follow a clear timeline. They happen when we’re ready—even if ‘ready’ means slowly waking up from the winter snooze and bidding farewell to chilly days as the spring season breathes new life into everything. Productivity and progress aren't always about ticking things off on your to-do list, but they can also mean resting, recharging, and letting things happen in their own time, and maybe this delayed blog post was meant to be a little spring letter to myself all along.

It's been exactly 6 months since I left home, and I am far from figuring things out in this new environment—and maybe I never fully will (because honestly, who does, right?). Certainly, there will be plenty of inner turmoil ahead, and I know I'll keep missing home (probably even have a few depressive episodes just from missing my cats), but for now, as we welcome a new season, I am also welcoming a new era. I’m learning to sit with the uncertainty, to love my newfound independence, and to keep moving forward and embracing and exploring whatever new adventures come my way.

That’s all for now. Thanks so much for reading all the way through 😊 I’m so ready for those longer, warmer days when the sun doesn’t set until 9 PM. Hopefully, I’ll finally get to explore some amazing places, write about those adventures, and share them with you all.