“Ga, we need you and your go-to war team to handle and fix this. How long can you gather and prep them?”
“You’re the fixer—fix it with whatever you have right now.”
“What’s your take on this? Prediction? Or even projection?”
“We have no one as reliable as you and your team. This is urgent—can you deliver?”
When I heard those lines in my 20s or early 30s, I could never say “NO.” I could never dodge the “bullet”, pre-, during, or post-“war.” I was the armor for those people. From business owners to management to team members, I was the one standing at the front of every battlefield, alongside the go-to war team I had assembled.
I always had my second and third in command, the most reliable, trustworthy, resourceful special forces. I put my life in their hands when things went south. Now, nearly in my 40s, sure, I still have those people in my life. I still, from time to time, put my life in their hands. I can still assemble them from where I sit, move them strategically, without being physically present.
But disappointment after disappointment has crushed my self-confidence. It’s made me question my ability to assess people’s true potential, not just for the wars we’re fighting, but for themselves as human beings.
Honestly? I feel like a big fat failure. But hey, life goes on. It is what it is.
The year was 2018. Fourth night in. Twelve engineers and I were working overtime. We had to launch the app on the sixth day, but we were falling behind. Tons of test cases didn't pass QA.
I was even helping rebuild the source code from scratch, finding a bug, fixing it, pushing to test again, fifteen trials in two hours. Exhaustion didn’t even cover it. We hadn’t gone home. We stayed at the office, sleeping a few hours in the conference room, then getting right back to it.
On the fifth day, our CTO came into the conference room, breakfast and coffee in hand. He said to me:
“If we can’t deliver by EOD, just let it go. Let the team go home. You and I will stay here and wrap it up.”
It wasn’t a request, it was a command. And I was his second in command. I nodded, sipped my first coffee, and turned my laptop back on. We launched the app on the sixth day, midday, just as promised. The owners and management were happy. Everyone was cheering. An expensive lunch was ordered for the entire technical division, my division.
I asked for a few days’ personal leave. Went back to my apartment, hoping I could numb myself after the flood of uncertainty, disappointment, and exhaustion. The moment I closed my apartment door, I broke down. Cried. Trembled. Threw whatever was within reach. Poured out every emotion I had suppressed for nearly a week. I resigned three months later.
I love my job. My profession. It’s part of my identity. When I build something or a team, I pour at least a quarter of my soul into it.
We humans have three pillars in life: Health, Wealth, and Love. Until my early 30s, I only had Wealth. Health and Love rarely showed up, let alone stayed. And I worshipped Wealth like a goddamn madman. I never cared, never even tried, to balance all three. Not until I moved to Ubud. Not until I had the epiphany that I need all three in my life, in the right amounts. Wants and needs are different. And for me now, these three are non-negotiable.
I’ve finally accepted that everything is impermanent, and some things are inevitable. Life will never be fair. Time won’t compromise or bend to our desires. When I start slipping off track, I send a warning to my support system, ask them for a strong grip to keep me from falling. And when they’re not around, I stop moving, literally and figuratively. I can’t afford another mental breakdown. So I stop. I breathe. I sit with the intrusive thoughts, the doubts, the noise in my head, the emotions creeping through my body, and I let them out in the healthiest, most cooperative ways I can.
We still have four months left this year.
Have we taken time to breathe and expand our perspective?
Have we let go of what no longer resonates with us?
Have we repaired our own damage?
Have we forgiven our parents for unconsciously passing down their intergenerational trauma and wounds?
Have we gone back to Mother Nature and received all she’s given us, relentlessly, with open arms?
Have we forgiven ourselves for our mistakes?
I haven’t. Not for everything.
So I’m writing this as a reminder to myself.
The career I built.
The go-to war team I built.
The people I mentored.
The business owners and management I helped.
The team members I nurtured.
It wasn’t in vain.
We still co-exist in this fucked-up world.
A world filled with wars, pressure, propaganda, and its own fabricated lies.
Not exactly delightful, is it?
But again, it is what it is.
We can only control what we can control.
And that is ourselves.
So I still choose to be the fixer.
The one who can assemble a go-to war team right from where I sit.
But now, I can finally say “NO.”
I can finally dodge the bullet, pre-, during, and post-war.
Because everyone deserves a healthy life, mentally, physically, financially, and spiritually. And since life won’t be fair, and time won’t compromise, we can at least be fair and compromise with ourselves, from within.
We still have four months left this year.
And the clock is ticking.
Face the music with whatever you have right now,
Or start making solid decisions for your own good.
The choice is yours.
Ubud, 11th August 2025
"You Should See Me Now" - Neck Deep
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