40 is the new 18

So...the 'big 4-0'.

Over the past half a year, I've witnessed many of my peers arrive at this point in their timeline (mostly via Facebook) - some with trepidation, others with celebratory mirth, and most, with resigned humour.

As I post one birthday message after another, I often add a line saying that I would be eagerly joining the club soon.

That is not a lie. I have never felt better about myself - where I am in my life and where I am going to go - than I do now, as I approach the cusp of mid-life.

''40 is the new 18" - I've told everyone who was patient enough to listen that this is my new tagline for the way I live (and want to be living for the next 40 years).

In so many ways, I've been blessed with the opportunity to live as if I was 18 all over again, albeit with the hindsight of experience and insight of maturity that I did not have back then.

This time last year, I was making the most amazing, life-changing journey on a fellowship to study ethical issues in journalism through the Holocaust. I spent my birthday, at the end of that trip, across three cities - Krakow, Frankfurt and New York - with a group of people I would cherish for the rest of my life because of the spiritual, emotional and intellectual bonds we had forged.

Something shifted inside after that journey. I came to understand that it was the universe's way of preparing me for this next half of my life.

Now, I'm doing the work I love and had dreamed of as a child. Everyday, I feel connected to the principles that had first inspired me to choose this path.

Looking back at the anger and disappointment in my younger days when the work I was doing then did not match up to my ideals, and the subsequent quests to find something else that could, I understand now that those were all part of the lessons I had to learn to arrive at this point where conviction and action can meet and move on together.

Putting career on hold and quitting work when the kids came along meant paying the price of having to start all over again at mid-life when everyone else had ''arrived''. But because of those ''lost'' years, I'd gained the priceless gift of being there every moment of the early years of my babies' growth and the incomparable happiness I felt teaching yoga to kids, making and selling my own accessories and writing without fetters.

I had resisted moving back to Singapore late last year with a vehemence that led only to much wasted energy. But I realised that even those were not ill-spent. The process of resistance at all cost was necessary for me to understand what I didn't want - and what I did.

But more importantly, there were old chapters back here that needed to be closed, before I could begin the next book.

Being single again is probably the best thing I've done for myself, next to graduate school.

Most of the first half of my life had been marked with the fear of being alone and hence, the spate of one disastrous attachment after another. Yes, I know I didn't look it - I've always played the part of independence really well.

But now, singlehood at mid-life is feeling extremely free and refreshing. I had thought I would need some time to overcome the fear of going it alone - especially given the challenges of single parenting in a society that still harbours strong discrimination and prejudice under the veneer of progressive speak.

But no, there is no fear. Perhaps, it is precisely because I am now a single parent at mid-life that I feel no fear. Sure, there will be some frustration, annoyance, and occasionally, anger at roadblocks put in place by bureaucracy and prejudice. C'est la vie.

So, on D-day, I'm taking stock of how it feels like to have the next half of a wonderful life before me, with plenty to look forward to.

It's like having that same fire in the belly at 18, but also the magic power to not let those flames burn out of control and destroy the people and things around me that I hold dear - or, myself.

That wild, dangerous fire is now a silent, steady flame, which I have come to recognise as what strength, freedom and independence truly is.

It doesn't get much better than this - so much to see, do, and experience.

I have a very long bucket list. For a start, Im going to learn Korean, pick up boxing and take the kids to China and imbue them with a sense of culture and heritage. At some point I will run the Great Wall marathon (OK, maybe the half).

Last, but not least, when I'm approaching 80, I would like to write a blog post titled ''80 is the new 28''.

Journey - on track

My Funny Valentine 2

It is that time of the year again, and there is that ubiquitous woman standing by herself and staring at the shelves of pink hearts and chocolates in the supermarket.

Perhaps I shouldn't assume that she was a lonely heart, or that she was pondering how many Valentines she was going to receive this year (if any).

But it is hard to break out of the stereotypes and associations this one day in the year come laden with. The reminders are everywhere and in your face - from advertisements for couples' dinners to flowers and chocolates, and nowadays, more original, sassy and kinky stuff.

On the other hand, if you're Valentine-less, the magazines and papers are full of useless 'how-to' articles that don't really help at all: 'how to survive Valentine's Day alone' and 'how to get a date if you're single', etc. Just what exactly is wrong with people being alone (and - entertain this possibility - happy) on this day?

Now, I'm a girl who loves my dinners and flowers, but I'm also the least likely to crumble in a heap if I have to eat a takeout dinner in front of Facebook (and everyone's pictures of their dinner).

The truth is: most of us have years of wonderful, memorable Valentine's Day, and years of not so great ones. Some are lucky enough to have more good years than bad ones. A sobering reminder is that billions of people in the world do not even celebrate this day (at least not with expensive dinners and gifts), given that they live only on a few dollars a day.

A couple of years ago, I started taking my little man out as my 'funny Valentine' date (links to the first 'My Funny Valentine' blog post). This little guy, my 'number one baby' who is growing up much faster than I can keep up with, once said to me:

“Mum, one is a very lonely number.”

“Why is one a very lonely number?”

“Because it always has to go first.”

''Zero is also very lonely.''

''Why?''

''Because it means nothing.''

He was four when he said that - already aware of the number games that we go through in life. I told him much later on, that whether it was zero, one, twos, threes or many, loneliness and love all come from within each and everyone of us. You can have thousands of people loving you, but still be lonely because you do not love yourself. Or, you can be alone in the world, but happy, loved and loving.

I'm not sure he got that bit just yet, despite being the philosopher that he is. But, he will. Hopefully, it won't take him as long as it took me to understand that.

Last year, the little guy and his little lady sister surprised me with a huge Valentine's balloon I found in my room when I got back from a trip to New York. That sealed a new routine - me and my two funny Valentines.

This Valentine's Day, I would hardly see my babies. I see the little guy briefly before I put him on the bus to school early in the morning; and I see the little lady briefly after the school bus drops her off late in the evening.

As I left the supermarket, I saw the news on Twitter about Whitney Houston's death. She was only 48. (And yes, I check tweets even when I'm pushing a cart full of groceries.)

After loading the groceries in the car, I headed for the bakery. I picked a tiny, pink, heart-shaped cake and proceeded to fill it with icing messages and kitschy decor for the babies, including a yellow smiling face.

We celebrated Valentine's Day two days in advance, on a Sunday this year. My message to them every year will be one borrowed from one of my favourite Whitney Houston songs:

I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadow. If I fail, if I succeed, at least I'll live as I believe. No matter what they take from me, they can't take away my dignity...because the greatest love of all is happening to me. Learning to love yourself...is the greatest love of all.

Ironically, her struggles in life and untimely death showed that knowing this doesn't always mean it's easy to live it.

So, I hope I was wrong in my assumptions about the woman in the supermarket staring at the chocolates, thankful that I'm now positively living the greatest love of all, and hopeful that the people I love most of all - my funny Valentines - will live this love their whole lives.

Love yourself - at least, as much as you love the ones you love most.

Happy Valentine's Day.