GREAT  thing

Life is Adventure... 

“Life is a one-way journey toward the unknown. So make it an exciting, awesome adventure.” — Debasish Mridha

This quote has always felt like a mirror to my soul. Life is an adventure—a messy, unpredictable, yet breathtaking ride into the unknown. For years, I thought I could map out every step. Growing up with Asperger’s and deafness, I clung to routines like a lifeline. My inner schedule was my compass: wake up, plan, execute, repeat. I’d color-code my goals, draft backup plans, and march forward, convinced that if I worked hard enough, I could outsmart chaos. And for a while, it worked.

But life has a funny way of reminding me that "you’re not in control".

At the start of 2024, my carefully constructed world crumbled. A sudden diagnosis forced me into a hospital bed, tethered to a schedule I didn’t create. Doctors’ orders replaced my to-do lists. IV drips and scans became my new routine. For someone who’d spent a lifetime scripting every hour, the helplessness was suffocating. Why was this happened? I’d whisper to the ceiling. I’ve fought so hard. I’ve pushed through. Why this?

See, I’ve always felt like I had to be twice as good—to prove that a “special needs” kid could not just survive but excel. I threw myself into special education, determined to light paths for students like me. Late nights brainstorming lessons. Endless workshops to empower young teachers. I wanted to build a world where difference wasn’t a barrier but a superpower. But somewhere along the way, I forgot to breathe.

The cracks started quietly. My hard works and ideas was dismissed and unrecognized. Burnout gnawed at my passion until even my beloved schedules felt like shackles. I’d drag myself home, my body screaming, my mind a storm of anger: Why doesn’t anyone see how hard I’m trying? But I kept going—until my body finally said, Enough.

Lying in that hospital bed, I realized something: Life’s greatest adventures aren’t the ones we plan. They’re the detours that break us open. The moments we’re forced to surrender. This illness? It’s my unscripted plot twist. A harsh but necessary teacher. These days, I’m learning to trade resentment for rest. To find peace in stillness. To forgive myself for not being a SuperHero.

My Asperger’s and deafness? They’re not just challenges—they’re my secret weapons. They taught me to see the world in hyperfocus, to turn silence into a canvas for innovation. Tech became my voice; routine, my anchor. Now, I’m discovering a new kind of strength: the courage to let go.

Recovery is slow. Some days, the old me screams to dive back into hustle mode. But I’m learning to listen instead to the hum of patience. To see this pause not as failure but as part of the journey. After all, adventures aren’t about avoiding storms—they’re about dancing in the rain and trusting the sun will return.

So here’s to the unknown. To messy, unplanned, gloriously human adventures. To healing—not just my body, but my spirit. And to the day I’ll stand in a classroom again, not as a perfectionist, but as a warrior who’s learned to embrace the ride.

Cheers to the next chapter. Let’s make it unforgettable.