Seeking Cerulean

This end of the year blog post is dedicated to my husband, the best person I know.

Hello friends, it’s been a while. As 2024 draws to a close, I find myself filled with anticipation for all that 2025 holds. This year has been a challenging one, and though I share many parts of my life online, I tend to keep the deepest parts of me close to my chest, only letting Gordon see me at my most vulnerable. He truly sees all of me—the good, the bad, the beautiful, the broken, the insecure, the confident—and he loves me through it all. This is one of the many reasons why I knew he was the one for me, in every lifetime.

In just under a month, we’ll be celebrating our marriage in Bali, and I can’t stop thinking about our first trip there. Travel is a huge part of many people’s lives, but for me, it was something I never imagined possible. Growing up, vacations were rare. We were a “family day” kind of family. If it was within driving distance, we’d go, but flying somewhere—let alone overseas—was out of reach. I didn’t even have a passport until I was 24, the same age I first traveled outside of the country. My first time on a plane was for a middle school field trip to Washington D.C. I remember begging my mom to let me go, and sitting next to a snooty fellow classmate who offered me gum to help with my ears popping. It was a whole new world.

By my early twenties, I was earning more than my father, despite him working 20 years doing overtime in retail operations management; by my mid-twenties, I was making double that. Money does not buy happiness, but it does buy you time; time to live without the constant worry of finances; to be able to enjoy life without checking your bank balance before making decisions; to be able to experience different cultures, and climates, and food; to afford comforts and beautiful things.

So you see, Bali represents something I once thought was unattainable. It’s a place of love, gratitude, and self-discovery. It was the place where Gordon texted his brother to say he was going to marry me. It’s the place where I realized that the dreams I once thought were out of reach, are now part of my life. Long gone are the days where I feel like I am chasing something elusive, trying to keep up with everyone else. Now, with so much more than I ever imagined, I find myself reflecting on how much I used to have, with much less.

I know it sounds privileged to say, but what I love about this blog is that I can be honest (very different from the highly curated snapshots on social media)—I’ve been struggling with the abundance in my life. Some days I’m not sure if I am a good person as a result of such abundance; I constantly want more, simply because I know I can have it. I get frustrated when I can’t do everything I want, but have been failing to be grateful for what I have accomplished. I obsess over trivial things like home decor, trying to make our home “perfect”, but the truth is, what makes our home beautiful isn’t the carefully curated trinkets or the expertly bound books on the shelves. It’s everything that brought us here—the hard work, the late nights, the sacrifices; Gordon’s determination, our shared journey, and my own drive to seek continuous improvement. Despite the fact that I have everything I ever wanted, I hate that I still feel the need to have more; perhaps due to pressures from society, but likely just pressures I put upon myself. I worry that the comforts I’ve earned have made me complacent and often wonder if true growth can only come through struggle.

Gordon once shared with me that he felt insecure about having experienced a “good” childhood; two parents who loved him, a healthy family dynamic, and a supportive older brother. In contrast, I spent my youth finding any trouble possible to avoid being home, rebelling and pushing boundaries, trying to escape the complexities of life. Gordon feared that if he had gone through such hardship, he would have turned out differently—a “bad” person, perhaps. But what does it even mean to be a good person? I think I’ve finally decided that goodness is subjective. For me, goodness is about trying, loving, and hoping for better for others, before yourself. Goodness is about growth, and for me, growth always came from struggle. Strangely, I worry that I may be less of a good person without the constant chaos and adversity to push me to be better.

Though I deny the same truth for myself, I assured Gordon that he didn’t need trauma to be worthy of all the good things in his life. If I had experienced his upbringing, I might not be the person I am today. It took years of mistakes and hard lessons learned to get here. Now, I find myself in a place where I can finally release the constant uneasiness and tension I once felt. I’ve realized that it’s okay to not be struggling all the time. It’s okay to enjoy the peace, to be grateful for what I have, and to acknowledge the hard work it took to get here. Growth doesn’t always have to be dramatic or traumatic. It’s okay to be stagnant for a while. It’s okay to sit back and enjoy the life I’ve created.

In 2025, I want to remember to be kinder to myself, and to remind Gordon to do the same. We both deserve everything we have now, and though we had different journeys to get here, we share the same fundamental goals: to be loved, to feel safe, to build a warm and happy home together. Life doesn’t always have to be about striving for more. Sometimes, it’s about enjoying the fruits of our labor and appreciating the love and peace we’ve created.

A “good” person is inside each one of us, with our experiences shaping our goodness in a unique, irrevocable, and beautiful way. So, my dear reader, despite how much, or how little, of a good person you think you are today, I want to let you know that you are very much deserving of all the wonderful things in your life.

As the new year approaches, I feel a hopeful sense of peace. This year, I married my soulmate. Next year, we’ll celebrate our love in a place that means so much to us—a place where, for the first time, I felt the weight of a truth I had long questioned: that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to doubt whether I was a good person; a place where a very special someone looked into my soul and, with quiet sincerity, told me it was beautiful.

And to conclude this existential adjacent blog post, I shall leave you with this: Life is good. Growth requires patience. Gratitude should fill your day. And love, love is healing.

See ya in 2025.