I found the meaning of life in this hotel room

How to escape a spiral.

It is 3:18 AM.

I am due, in 6 hours, for a full-day tour of Mandalay, but I have just sent a text to my driver to cancel it. My phone is inches from my face, and I am curled up in bed in the foetal position.

For the past 24 hours I have been immobilised by what I suspect to be a stomach virus. Between trips to the bathroom, I google my symptoms and other unappetising details, or otherwise wrestle with cramps that feel like a very angry sea urchin blooming from inside my lower abdomen. I keep telling myself that as soon as I can find the right position to contort my body into, I can make it hurt less.

At this precise moment, I am battling a full-blown existential crisis. I am asking myself why I picked this country, these specific dates for travel, as though there was any way I could have known this was going to happen.

"Is the universe sending me a message??" I lament, before launching into a desperate search for flights back to Singapore.

I am not exaggerating when I say that illness reduces me to a shell of myself. I always find it hilarious later on, but in these moments I am predictably self-destructive: I refuse to drink water, I eat badly, I feel sorry for myself, and I take the opportunity to ruminate on all the dumb things I've ever done and all the things that I know I cannot change.

Before making this trip, almost everyone that I told about it looked at me incredulously and said, “Myanmar? Are you sure? Isn’t there a war happening right now?”

And so when I first got here, I couldn't help but feel a sense of suspicion colouring every interaction and experience.

In a country going through a civil crisis, where power outages and road blocks are a common occurrence, people continue to go about their daily lives. Adults hang out in coffee shops, and kids play in the street. It is hot—MUCH hotter than Singapore—but everyone is friendly, and not once did I encounter a tank rolling down a street or even military personnel.

As such, it is not lost on me how ridiculous I'm being.

So this trip didn't go entirely according to plan. Big deal. I'm in a comfortable hotel room with room service, and there is even a swimming pool on the damn roof.

Life could be so much worse. Yet such is the state I am in.

how to dig yourself out of a hole

At one point in this episode, I thought: if only my life was an anime.

I’m thinking specifically about Tokyo Ghoul, and about Kaneki's character who gets tortured to the point of glorious transformation. Not only does he become virtually unstoppable, he even earns himself the #2 spot on Gamerant's 20 Most Iconic Male Characters With White Hair.

Because if this isn’t the prize, then what is the point of suffering?

Alain de Botton once said this thing about how we are not merely seeking to be happy; we are seeking to suffer in ways that feel familiar.

This has always been true for me—I am comfortable with negative experiences, to the point where I unconsciously find ways to perpetuate or even create them. I have had to be very intentional about choosing to be happy and appreciating the good things in my life.

But how exactly does one go about doing this?

To borrow Leonard Cohen's words, digging yourself out of a hole is often about looking for the cracks where the light gets in. Paying attention to the moments that sneak up on you, when you realise you have been chasing the wrong thing, or you have been looking at a problem the wrong way, or you are in a ridiculous argument with someone you love, and choosing to stop, and to turn towards that knowledge.

After all it, is possible to double-down instead; to push that knowledge away and to choose to sink deeper into the hole you are already in. Because stopping and doing differently also means admitting that you were wrong, or that you hurt someone, or that you did something small and stupid.

The wonderful, healing experience that is finding Singaporean food in a foreign country.

As I was dealing with this horrible stomach virus, I started to notice the way in which I refused to release myself from the slow drip of false hope.

I kept telling myself that this would be over any minute. Just hang tight, don't do anything, this time will be the last time. Yet every trip to the bathroom brought with it nothing but exhaustion and disappointment.

I wanted so badly to feel fine, I kept looking up my symptoms, thinking that if I could just figure out what was going on, I could make it stop. I kept researching the fastest route back to Singapore, thinking that as long as I could get home I would be okay.

What's funny is, at no point did I actually think to myself that I should try and see a doctor. AlI I needed to do was dial hotel reception for help.

In the midst of all this, there was a moment when I was in the hotel bathroom that I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the shower screen. I looked so miserable, I couldn't help but laugh.

In laughing, I finally saw how I was making myself suffer. I realised that I was in a hole, and that I needed to dig myself out of it.

I needed to let the light in.

So I say to myself, "This is your life now. You can make it worse, or you can try to enjoy it as much as possible."

And at 3:18 AM, I accept that there is no way, in my condition, I am going to somehow still get to play tourist. I cancel all my plans for the next 24 hours, and finally exhale.

I stop searching for flights, and close my web browser.

I ask myself: how will this be funny when I talk about it in a few weeks?

I start drafting what eventually becomes this newsletter.

15 minutes later, I open Netflix, which I proceed to lose myself in for a good 4 hours.

I take a shower. I order room service. I finally manage to fall asleep.

I wake up. I leave my room to sit in the sun for a few minutes.

I text my friends and update my parents on the situation.

I write up up some fun ideas for projects that I know will never make money. I watch more Netflix.

I begin to actually enjoy myself.

PS. I may not have had the most amazing time in Myanmar, but I believe that I just got unlucky. For anyone considering visiting, do it!

Oh, and this was the hotel room in which I suffered for 2 and a half days:

Not too shabby, right?

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stories, visions, and ideas that moved me this week

I’ve been spending a lot of time reading other newsletters, and so the links this week are all to other Substacks:

• A Word to the Unwise from

  Oldster Magazine
  — A hilarious account of aging ungracefully.

• Sorry I’m Late - I was crying at a comedy show from

  It'll Be Fun, They Said
  — On how we try to comfort others when really we are trying to comfort ourselves. Also a good, strong dose of chaotic energy.

• Give your friends a chance to abandon you from

  Bits of Wonder
  — About friendship and inflicting yourself on those you care about.

• The Backpack from

  Brad Montague
  — We are all carrying something heavy. Why not set it down, and unpack?

• We Don’t Need ‘Self-Help,’ We Need Support from

  Changing The Channel
  — For a vision of a better way to live.

• Reading challenging books with kids is fun and probably useful from

  Henrik Karlsson
  — This was very pure and made me feel like I was sitting in a pool of warm sunlight.

That’s all for this week. I’ll catch you at the next one 👋🏻

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As always, if you enjoy the way I write and think, and are looking for ways to work with me, check this out.