I haven’t been writing online much lately. I had told myself I would “show my work”—share with the world what I’m capable of. But the reality is, my energy and capabilities are so consumed by the demands of life that it feels nearly impossible to find the time to reflect and write about them. I started wondering if this was just another fleeting commitment, another “anget-anget tai kotok” moment I’ve brought upon myself time and time again. At one point, I even began questioning whether I’m better at planning than executing—this blog feels like undeniable proof of that suspicion.
Yet here I am, on a quiet rainy Sunday, bored and yawning, deciding to write a post that, to be honest, has no clear direction or purpose. But let’s say, it’s a start.
I do not have any theme today, but just series of updates and strong thoughts I have in my mind lately:
2024 is absolutely a chaotic but a productive year.
Building a business was never something I envisioned for myself. I always imagined I’d work in a corporate setting or an NGO, dedicating my efforts to endless economic research—something I believed I was good at. After all, isn’t that what people are supposed to do? Stick to what they’re good at? The thought of creating an institution, hiring a team, and setting ambitious business goals never crossed my mind.
Yet here I am, wrapping up the 2025 planning and outlining the KPIs my team needs to achieve by the end of next year. And you know what? It feels good—really good. I’m proud of this institution, its solid purpose, and the values we stand for. While I still wrestle with insecurities about how I lead: my team, they’re an incredible setup, and I couldn’t ask for a better group to bring this vision to life.
This year, we had the privilege of working with incredible mentees—individuals who are not only pursuing their next degrees but are also creating meaningful impact along the way. We partnered with outstanding companies and collaborators, finally laying the B2B foundation we’ve been planning for so long. Our network is growing stronger, and we’ve become a little bolder in negotiating terms. It’s been a year of progress, partnerships, and promising steps forward.
But the process, oh man, I cannot tell you that it was easy. There were countless nights of crying myself to sleep, endless entries of angry journaling, and more anxious moments than I could count—so many that I developed a persistent eye twitch from the stress. I haven’t taken a proper holiday this year and can’t even recall stopping for more than a single day to rest. I felt miserable, constantly grappling with the belief that no matter how much I gave, it was never enough. I found myself wishing for more than 24 hours in a day just to keep up with everything on my plate.
Mid-year, I gave up working out—something I used to rely on for balance—because the pressure of my routine became unbearable. Missing a single workout added to my stress, and with the chaotic schedule, it became impossible to keep up. I’m sure I’ve gained a significant amount of weight, but I still can’t summon the courage to step on a scale and confirm it. It’s been a tough year, and the toll it’s taken is undeniable.
By now, you might be wondering where I’m going with this. What I’m trying to say is: I am privileged. I get to work on something I love—something driven by clear purpose, direction, and goals. That doesn’t mean it’s been easy, nor do I expect it ever will be. But here we are, in November, and I can confidently say it’s been a good run this year.
There’s still plenty to improve, and I’ll keep striving to perfect the work we do. At the same time, I’m hoping to get better at managing myself—finding balance, embracing rest, and learning to handle the challenges with a little more–if not, grace.
A Steep Cost I Paid During GradSchool Has Finally Paid Off
And I think this is where we should take a moment to appreciate graduate school. It’s not just about earning a degree—it’s about the lessons you learn in the process, especially the ability to compartmentalize stress. That, I believe, is one of the best skills I gain from surviving grad school.
I am working on this project—a pilot project with a new partner. This project has an unclear timeline, unrealistic metrics, and overwhelming expectations. I was completely under pressure, struggling to navigate through constant changes and demands. I became so emotionally entangled with the project that it started to disturb my mental well-being.
However, then, as if a switch flipped in my mind, I realized something crucial: this project had been meticulously prepared over the course of five months. The groundwork was solid, the execution phase was finally here, and I wasn’t alone—I had all the support systems I needed, and the team I worked with was incredibly versatile.
That overwhelming survival instinct that had gripped me at the start began to fade. It was replaced by a more strategic mindset—a series of tactical lists and actionable steps to approach the project methodically. This was the moment I understood the invaluable skill I had honed during grad school: the ability to shift from panic-driven survival mode to a calm, tactical approach. It’s not something that happens overnight, but through the trials of graduate school, it becomes second nature—a skill I carry with me into every challenge I face.
At the peak of my grad school journey, just two weeks before my comprehensive exam, I hit a wall. I was completely overwhelmed by a microeconomics question that refused to budge no matter how many times I tried to solve it. Frustration consumed me, and I felt like giving up. It wasn’t just about the question—it was the looming weight of the exam and everything it represented–a continuation of my study.
I vented to my study buddy, half-expecting her to commiserate. Instead, she told me to hang up, put on my running clothes, and go for a run. “Think about it,” she said, “life can’t hinge on a microeconomics question. Come back, have a good meal, email your professor for guidance, and try again tomorrow.”
At that moment, her words felt like a lifeline. She reminded me to step back, to breathe, and to let go of the pressure I had placed on myself. That simple advice—run, recharge, and regroup—somewhat became a cornerstone of how I approached challenges from that point forward.
Then again, this lifeline wouldn’t have felt like a lifeline if grad school didn’t sometimes feel like a life-or-death situation. It was through these moments of intense pressure that I learned to refocus. I began to understand that life is so much bigger than my stress, that problems—no matter how daunting—can be approached methodically, and that asking for help is not a sign of weakness but a practical solution.
One of the most valuable lessons I gained was learning how to contain chaos. Just because one area of my life felt out of control didn’t mean it had to seep into everything else. Grad school taught me how to compartmentalize, how to keep the messy parts from overshadowing the calm, and how to keep moving forward, even when things felt overwhelming. It’s a skill I carry with me now, and one I’ll always be grateful for.
Now, back to the working field. It’s Sunday evening, the rain is tapping gently against the window, and the sky is fading into darkness. It feels like the perfect moment map out the week ahead. There’s a quiet sense of purpose in this ritual, a chance to bring structure to the chaos and set the tone for what’s to come. So, that’s what I’m going to do.
Talk to you again soon.
Take care,
A (V) in Writing: 