Saturday, 31 May 2025

BAWEL PENDIAM REBORN

An Indonesian woman, 43 years young, with a life plot twistier than your favorite binge-worthy drama—and trust me, that’s saying something. She’s been through more crazy turns than a rollercoaster built by a caffeine-fueled novelist on deadline. If life handed out trophies for surviving chaos? She’d have a whole shelf.

She’s no stranger to the absurd. Life’s thrown curveballs like it’s training for the World Series—heartbreaks, disappointments, weird family dynamics, and moments so ridiculous you’d swear they were scripted. But she’s still here, walking that tightrope between “What the hell just happened?” and “Bring it on, universe.” And with a smirk, because if you can’t laugh at the mess, what’s the point?

She talks to herself—often aloud—and no, she’s not crazy (well, maybe just a little). But those one-sided conversations? They’re therapy. A way to process the madness without dragging everyone else into the chaos. Her bolster pillow’s probably had more emotional outpourings than most therapists. It’s the silent witness to her battles, breakdowns, and occasional moments of sheer, unfiltered “What even is life?”

Her resilience isn’t polished or pretty. It’s messy. It’s grit mixed with a healthy dose of sarcasm. She’s learned that being “strong” isn’t about never falling—it’s about falling face-first, laughing at the dirt on your cheek, then getting up ready to kick some more ass. Scars? She’s got them. Each one a battle story, a reminder she survived what was supposed to break her.

She’s not here to pretend she has all the answers. Hell no. If life was a test, she’d still be flipping through the chapters, scribbling notes in the margins, occasionally doodling little middle fingers. But that’s okay. Because perfection is boring, and the wild ride? That’s where the real stories are.

She needs “me time” like plants need sunlight. Sometimes she wants to curl up in silence, just to hear herself think over the noise of the world. Other times, she craves connection, laughter, and hugs so big they squeeze out the exhaustion. She’s figuring it out, one chaotic, beautiful step at a time.

And here’s the kicker: despite the setbacks, the confusing plot twists, and the times she’s wanted to throw in the towel—she’s still burning bright. A fire that refuses to die, fueled by stubbornness, hope, and a killer playlist. She’s got grit in her veins, poetry in her soul, and a laugh that cuts through the darkness.

So yeah, she might not have life all figured out—no one really does. But she’s living it loud, proud, and wild. With a sarcastic grin, a heart full of grit, and the kind of strength that doesn’t need validation. Because in this chaotic mess called life, she’s not just surviving. She’s conquering.

x

A little Bit about Bawel Pendiam

An Indonesian woman, 43 years young, with a life so full of plot twists, even telenovelas would bow out. Her story isn’t a straight line—it’s a rollercoaster with no seatbelt and a DJ narrating it with dramatic sound effects.

She’s been through heartbreaks, career detours, emotional avalanches, and those “are you freaking kidding me?” moments life loves to throw at 2 a.m. But guess what? She’s still standing. Slightly tilted, maybe caffeinated, often sarcastic—but standing.

She talks to herself more than she should. Not because she’s lost it (well… maybe a little), but because sometimes the best conversations are the ones where no one interrupts. Her bolster? Basically her unpaid therapist. It’s heard things that would make a Netflix scriptwriter weep.

She doesn’t fake strength—she earns it. Through tear-stained pillows, awkward laughter in serious moments, and screaming into the void when no one’s around. She's not the “everything’s fine” type. She’s the “this is a mess, but I’ll make it fashion” kind.

She loves deeply but guards herself like a vault. Her fiancé is a walking dream, and even though she wants to spill her guts to him sometimes, she chooses to carry some weight alone. Not because she has to—but because she wants to protect the light they’ve built.

She craves peace, solitude, maybe a spa day, and uninterrupted naps. But even without all that, she keeps going. For her family, for her sanity, for herself.

She’s not trying to be perfect—she’s trying to be real. And real is raw, a little cracked, often hilarious, and always rising.

She’s not just surviving. She’s scripting her own epic, plot twist by plot twist. And spoiler alert: she wins.

Thursday, 21 July 2022

Tuesday, 12 April 2022

Exhausted

Exhaust

Lately, I've been overwhelmed with a storm of emotions—happy, sad, angry, confused, exhausted, tired, and, honestly... 

fed up. With everything.

Last night, after a decent video call with my fiancé—who’s not just beautiful on the outside but kind where it counts—I laid my head on my bolster and cried silently.

Not because I don’t trust him. I do. Completely.

But I didn’t want to weigh him down with what I’m carrying.

So instead, I poured all my emotions into the bolster... and pretended it was him holding me.

I know he’d move mountains to make things better if he knew.

But this time, I chose silence.

Having him in my life is a blessing I don’t take lightly.

I talk to myself a lot these days. Some might say I’m weird—maybe even “wacko.”

But I’m not hurting anyone, and honestly, I’ve stopped caring what people think.

I know exactly what I need right now: him... and a big, soul-healing hug.

I don’t know how much longer I can hold all this in.

I’m trying to be strong for everyone.

But who’s being strong for me?

Where does my sanity fit into this?

I need time. For me. Just me.

Hufft.

Monday, 11 April 2022

Can't I just take some rest, Please ?

أَسْتَغْفِرُ اللّٰهَ‎ 

I am about this close to loose my sanity. Why this whole thing constantly non stop. 

Every damn day there's a new trouble between this circle. 

Why don't any of them let me to catch my breath for a while. 

I am well aware that I am the eldest and I had lots of responsibility for everything, but I am kinda overwhelmed right now.  

To say that I am overwhelmed is underrated because I am more than overwhelmed.

Here I am trying to get my life back from scratch, but I can't focus because every damn day there will be a new "challenge"

When I thought ah okay, one challenge is completed now it's time for me to focus on myself.

Oh boy, I was so damn wrong. 

It's a never ending vicious cycle from one challenge to another challenge.

How I am gonna focus on my life if this vicious cycle continued like this

Can't I just take some rest, PLEASE ?

Friday, 27 August 2021

Demotion Effect

After the unnecessary drama with Mom on Wednesday (25 August 2021), I found myself spiraling. By Thursday night (26 August 2021), my brain decided to stir the pot and serve a fresh plate of insecurity.

I asked him—my kind, drop-dead gorgeous fiancé—whether he’s ever thought anything negative about me.


He looked confused, didn’t press. 

He knows me well enough to wait for the storm to pass before asking questions.

It got awkward—because of me. 

So I lied. 

Told him I wanted to sleep early. 

Truth is, I stayed up overthinking until 3 a.m.

Honestly, I’ve been haunted by this terrible thought: What if he thinks I’m only with him because of money?


It’s not true—God knows it’s not.

I love him. Deeply. Sincerely. 

But my brain is on overdrive, setting fire to bridges I haven’t even crossed.

I feel like I’m sabotaging something good. 

The one thing in my life that actually works, and I’m slowly poisoning it with my own fears.

Nendrong talked me off the ledge.

She told me, “He’s not thinking that. He’s sincere, and you know it. This is your insecurity talking.”

And she’s right.

He’s always shown up for me, no questions asked. 

He once said, “Leave your problems to the world. I am your world.”

And I believed him.

I still do.

But my demons are loud, and lately, they’ve been screaming.

Maybe it’s the demotion.

Maybe it’s Mom.

Maybe it’s the years of trying to hold everything together while I fall apart in silence.

Divorced. Almost 40. No kids. Parents divorced. Demoted. Still stuck in a job that doesn’t value me.

It’s a messy resume of life, and the only solid thing I have is my relationship.

And yet... I doubt that too.

What if one day he wakes up and realizes I’m not the one?

What if I’m just not enough?

Nendrong snapped me out of it again.

“Don’t ruin your happiness with negativity,” she said.

“You got lucky in love—that’s rare. Be grateful. Some of us would trade everything for a relationship like yours.”

She’s right.

I need to stop playing victim in a life that’s still writing its story.

So today, I’m writing this down to remind myself: I need a distraction.

Not to forget—but to refocus.

To take care of my mind before it ruins something beautiful.

Because right now?

My relationship is the only thing keeping me sane.

And I’ll be damned if I let my own thoughts take that away from me.

Tuesday, 8 June 2021

Officially got Demoted

8 June 2021 — mark it in blood, the day they thought they could break me.

Congratulations to me — I’ve officially been demoted. 🎉

A standing ovation, please, for corporate betrayal wrapped in a passive-aggressive smile.

I saw it coming — the slow burn, the whisper behind closed doors, the sugar-coated meetings.

But when Tante Suri invited me for a little “chat,”

I knew the storm had landed.

She explained my “new role” with the kind of rehearsed sympathy you'd expect from a villain in a budget soap opera.


"And there will be a salary adjustment," she said, like it was a weather update.

I didn't flinch. I didn’t cry. I didn’t give her the satisfaction.

I wore my poker face like war paint,

Took the damn letter like it was a gold medal in a game I never signed up for.

I didn’t ask about the money. Why bother?

They’d already taken the title — might as well snatch my dignity too, right?

But listen up:

I’ve been through hell hotter than this.

I’ve bled, broken, rebuilt — and I’m still here.

So here’s to you, corporate chaos.

Here’s to the ladder that turns into a snake the second you get too high.

Here’s to the silent punishment of being too much for their comfort.

But most of all — here’s to me.

I may be down. But I am not destroyed.

This isn’t defeat. This is a plot twist.

So bring it. Bring every ounce of disrespect, every stupid restructure, every empty “we appreciate you.”

I’ll turn it into firewood.

Fuel for the blaze I’ll use to forge something better.

Because it’s ALRIGHT, BAWEL PENDIAM. YOU. CAN. DO. THIS.

Let them watch while you rise.

Let them choke on the ashes of everything they tried to bury.

And this “nightmare?”

Please. I’ve survived demons.

This is just corporate cosplay.