A Mindful Journey of Yohana Meyrida Simamora

I don’t think I’ve ever written about the government housing provided by the Air Force where we’re currently living. We’ve been here for almost half a year now—since June, to be exact. I still remember the day we left Malang for Jakarta: the kids and I ended up crying together. Strangely enough, that move also happened in December, as if the month itself always carries a bittersweet turning of seasons for our family. But life moves forward, and so must we. Our first home in Jakarta was in Lubang Buaya—a small house, roughly 108 square metres, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. My mother-in-law had lived there ever since I married her son in 2014. My husband and I bought the house using a mix of our parents’ support. Technically, we still owe my parents the remaining balance. Lol. After living in Jakarta for about two and a half years, we decided to move into what we call the Panggon , or rumah dinas—a service house provided by TNI AU. Since it isn’t a Rumah Jabatan < Official Re...

It had been raining all day today. I’ve always loved the rain, so you won’t hear any complaints from me. There is a quiet kind of magic in the air when it rains—the way the cold settles outside but somehow ushers a gentle warmth within. But my intention today is not to write about the weather. I simply wanted to sketch the atmosphere around me before diving into what has been unfolding in my life lately. Two days ago, I lost my temper. Truly lost it—with my children, El and Gi. I had been trying to be the patient, composed mother they deserve. So what pushed me into saying the things I said? It began early in the morning when I tried to wake them for school. They had set their alarms for five o’clock, only to switch them off and fall back asleep. I shook them gently, making sure they really woke up. Their excuse was almost comical: “Why bother with the alarm? You’ll wake us anyway.” Right. Inhale. Exhale. I remember trying to steady myself at that moment. To keep it short, after I drop...

Wow, December is already here, and I find myself wondering where the time has gone. The questions came rushing in almost instinctively: What have I done to grow this year? What impact have I made on the people around me? When I try to count them one by one, I lose track. Blessings have scattered generously across my months, even though the year began with grief as I mourned my grandmother’s passing in January 2025. There were storms too: an intense quarrel with my husband over a serious matter, a frightening near-slip into a Korean cult called Shincheonji, and the same old family tension centred on my brother. The truth is simple: life refuses to unfold according to our tidy expectations. Nothing ever reaches that perfect 100 percent we dream of. Yet, somewhere within those imperfect days, I recognise the ways I’ve grown. This year, I’ve been trusted again and again to serve as moderator and master of ceremony. It still surprises me how, whenever someone needs an MC, somehow my nam...