In 2024, here’s how I went from crying at work to reclaiming my zen

This July, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. 

It was a plot twist that stands out as the lowest point in what has been a challenging year overall – the sour cherry on top of a struggle sundae.

The year started out with my own health issues. 

In January, about a month after turning 41, I started waking up some mornings feeling more exhausted than I had ever felt before. On these days, I’d feel utterly drained of not just my physical energy but my very life force. The only thing that could restore me back to normalcy was a full day of sleep. 

I’m a single mother, so when my son is around, I feel like I have to be 100 per cent functional. But these periods of total drain were making it impossible. 

Not only was it tough to enjoy my time with him through play and outings, I found myself also becoming extremely irritable and cranky, which then triggered my mum guilt.  

Then my Achilles heels started hurting. A lot. All the time. 

Each time I stood up or put any weight on them, they would burn. I started having to hobble my first few steps before being able to walk normally.

I went for a health screening. No issues flagged. I was, apparently, perfectly fine.

I knew what was happening: Perimenopause. 

I’d reached that time of my life when declining estrogen levels mess with all sorts of bodily functions and affect one’s mood and mental health.

Like countless generations of women before me, I had no choice but to suck it up and deal with it.

ONE CHANGE AFTER ANOTHER

In the midst of all these major developments, I also somehow got myself embroiled in some personal drama. 

A conflict with a dear friend escalated a little too far out of hand, and led to the implosion of a longstanding friend group.  

And at some point, I decided to dip my toes back into the dating pool after a year out of it.

I thought surely I’d spent enough time healing in solitude from my last relationship to be ready for a new connection. But no, I quickly realised my nervous system was not yet ready to handle the anxiety-inducing mechanisms of modern dating – and perhaps may never be.

Within a month, I was off the dating apps and on a mission to reclaim my peaceful solitude. I retreated to the comfort I found in novels, movies, daily meditations, and in blasting Linkin Park while smashing plates in The Fragment Room with my best friend.

Looking at each one of these developments, none were exactly minor or insignificant. But none were particularly devastating or destructive either. 

They were just relentless – one immediately after another, no pauses or breaks, some overlapping and blending into others to form a frustrating patchwork of big life changes that made it hard to find any sense of clarity or stability.  

AND YET …

But even as I document this litany of minor tragedies, I know in my heart that I have it good. 

Take a look at the headlines on any given day. So many around the world are suffering, in so many different ways. The challenges I faced felt almost trifling by comparison. What did some pain in my heels matter, held up next to the bloodshed we’re seeing in Gaza, Ukraine and Sudan? 

And even as each one of these events in my life unfolded, they taught me something valuable about life.

The day I found out about my mother’s cancer diagnosis, I was in the office surrounded by my colleagues.

Some people might find this incredibly awkward in a place of work, but when I broke down sobbing at my desk, they instantly formed a protective bubble around me. 

They listened, soothed, said all the right words. Tissues, tea and pastries appeared out of nowhere as if by magic. That’s women for you.

My mother underwent surgery to remove her tumour. She’s recovering well and her cancer markers are undetectable. It’s made me more intentional about spending quality time with her and the family. 

Perimenopause is what it is (painful life experience, do not recommend), but I’m blessed to have somehow hit this gruelling phase for myself just as the issue is trending all around the world. I have more information about what I’m going through and how to deal with it than untold millions of women who suffered in confusion and silence before me.

As a result, I’ve been able to cobble together a mix of lifestyle changes and supplements to mitigate my symptoms.

I still wake up some mornings feeling completely depleted, but not as often as before. My Achilles heels still hurt, but less. I can’t run anymore, but I can still do boxing and yoga.  

Dating may have been a bust, but it helped spotlight the particular wounds I still have to heal and what I really need in a future romantic connection. 

And friendship drama is always a pain, but I’m hopeful my friend group will recover from the aftermath. 

The conflict also taught me a thing or two about how I want to move through the world, particularly that I can’t keep forcing myself to ignore or suppress my own needs and feelings just to make others comfortable – my own child excluded, of course. 

IT’S NEVER ALL BAD

Perhaps the best thing that happened this year was something I decided to do for myself, which is the thing that has helped me put this whole year into perspective. 

I signed up for the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction course at Singapore Management University, an eight-week programme that teaches you how to practise mindfulness in daily life to better understand yourself, regulate your emotions and respond to stress.

Each week we learnt a new method of meditation. About halfway through the course – coincidentally, on my birthday – we spent six full hours in total meditative silence.

Sounds intense? That’s because it is. 

But it turned out to be the best way I could have spent my birthday – giving myself the gift of undivided inward attention, unbothered by my phone, my work or other people.

About four hours in, I was contemplating a tree in the courtyard of the Yong Pung How School of Law, when a sudden wind passed through, sending a symphony of small, yellow leaves through the air.

It was the most mundane of occurrences. Yet, that moment of deep silence gave me fresh eyes to see beauty where I least expected it. 

The impermanence and unpredictability of life is exactly what makes it so enchanting, so worth living regardless of what comes at you. In that moment, I didn’t just understand this truth – I felt it.

So was 2024 still a struggle sundae?

Kind of, yeah. But I’m now learning to appreciate even the sourest bits of it – how they can make the sweet ones that much better, how they show me that my palate’s a little tougher than it was before, and the part they play to create a richer, fuller taste.  

I don’t know what 2025 will bring. But with my friends, my teammates and the lessons of 2024 at my back, I know it can’t be all that bad.   

Yasmine Yahya is a deputy chief editor at CNA Digital where she oversees CNA TODAY, Lifestyle and Luxury.