For some inexplicable cosmic reason, I’ve been looking forward to the year 2025 for as long as I could remember. Perhaps because 25 was supposed to be my lucky number. To my utter dismay, it most certainly had not been my year (or anyone’s, for that matter). Throughout the seasons, I found myself angry, hurt, and lost, trying to find my way back to sanity and safety—in between, thankfully, I managed to hold on to softer moments of joy and calm.
Indeed, it has been said that 2025 was a year of ‘shedding’, marking a major ending as a collective “Year 9” that completes the ‘cycle’. While it does explain a lot of things, it does not quite fit how the year—at its core—felt for me.
As I thought hard, one theme that did resonate was “baptism by fire” (baptême du feu), how an old friend labeled what happened to me in late Q3. In the biblical sense, it refers to the ‘transformative ordeal that builds strength or faith through intense trials, often involving judgement or a new level of spiritual presence‘. It is possible, after all, that the universe was on a mission to systematically (and generously at that) initiate me into roles that I perhaps had not embraced as fully before, roles that came with expectations I had been avoiding, wishfully thinking I would just figure it out on the go.
| [Note: this *is* a (deeply) personal post, meaning I am zooming in on myself and writing from where I sit with all the privileges that I have, being fully aware and with deep empathy to how the year has been probably much worse for many people out there: the detained activists/political prisoners, Sumatran flood refugees, and beyond. I have no intentions to undermine or take the spotlight away from these bigger, much more systematic issues. Read on if you’re okay with that.] |
I. That of a wife.
We often think of marriage as an object we desire. Something to have, a mental space to enter (some mixed it up with a ‘wedding’). But I wonder if people (women and men) consider about the ‘role’ of someone’s spouse a.k.a. their life partner—of what it looks like on a daily basis, how and whether you allow that identity to transform and occupy your cognitive space and time differently.
Our first year of marriage (2024) felt a lot like a ‘transitionary’ phase: I sold my apartment and moved in to Ara’s bachelor pad, while looking and preparing for a physical space we could start building a life together in. Ara wasn’t a ‘husband’ per se, as I wasn’t quite a ‘wife’. We did not quite have an ajeg circadian rhythm yet, mostly ebbing and flowing as the river goes, having non-stop exciting days.
Since March 2025 however, as we finally moved in to our new home, we have started developing habits, rituals, and with that, adjustments to what we expect from each other as we build our little pack. Beyond our default compatibilities, this year was about bending ourselves to fit into each other’s tempo, harmonizing priorities, and mindfully choosing each other again and again.
After two years of marriage now, I realize that while being someone’s spouse means feeling fully accepted for who we are, it also paradoxically means being held accountable to a standard they know you’re capable of achieving. It sometimes involves disappointing the person you love the most in the world, and having the motivation to try and be a better spouse for them every single day.
Still can’t believe how lucky I am to have Ara to take on this role with.
II. Putting the ‘co-‘ in ‘co-founder’.
“You know Afu, being a co-founder is as intimate as being someone’s spouse. You share all your thoughts and go to work with them, making small and big decisions together every single day.” My leadership coach reminded me earlier this year.
I had to be honest with him that I never thought about it that way. While I put in the work to find the right romantic partner and developed a shared framework for everything with Ara, I might have had put my co-foundership in auto pilot mode. For the longest time, in my mind, it is simply about finding someone who share your vision and values. I mean, isn’t that alone a difficult enough task?
This year taught me about the importance of aligning expectations with your co-founders early, mastering the skill of two-way communication, all while maintaining your shared passion throughout the journey. In a way, every married co-founder quite literally have two partners.
If you’re a co-founder too, you might find Ester Perel’s ‘erotic intelligence’ framework quite helpful—in every conflict, she said, there are three main ‘unspoken needs’ that, when unmet, may lead to divorces—or co-founder separation for that matter: (1) power/priorities (whether they have a sense of control and autonomy), (2) closeness/connection (sense of care between the two of you), and (3) respect/recognition (noticing and appreciating their contribution).
It was one of the biggest aha moments in 2025 for yours truly as it explains a lot.
III. Having a voice.
But of course the biggest flood of expectations came in late August, when we started the 17+8 campaign. It began, quite innocently, with a personal post, a few private messages, and a WhatsApp call—an intention to help spread awareness, to make sense of the escalating chaos that was happening.
Contrary to what’s convenient to believe, there’s no way that we—that I could’ve seen was coming our way.
Today, in hindsight, it only makes sense: in a country where most people can barely afford speaking up (due to political and economic consequences), the fact that we were protected enough to have a voice, to exercise our agency, means we carry with us hopes (and with that, frustration and anger) of those who don’t.
I wish I could see and build the muscle to carry them much earlier, to have the audacity to stand up to my own values, and the fluency to articulate them better. Instead, it was a whole month of snowballing misunderstandings and (what ended up as) personal attacks. I selfishly took my time to retreat and disappear; I knew I wouldn’t have survived otherwise.
It was much later when I realized that I was stuck in the ‘drama triangle’—I felt deeply powerless as the ‘victim’ in this whole process, struggling and bargaining with a ‘persecutor’ who keeps demanding things from me, things I was not ready to provide. It was during a ‘leadership session’ at the LSE 100x that I realized only I could flip the switch and be a ‘creator’ in a world I want to see.
It was amazing how a little shift in mindset changed how I operate in the most meaningful way.
IV. Finally, hosting friends.
When Ara and I decided on getting our house, one of our main criteria was that it should be a communal space for our family, friends, and work teams to convene. Between being the first sibling and a CEO in our respective companies, we have natural tendencies to convene people (well I do, Ara prefers to hole up in his own room haha).
This year, we are proud to report that we have hosted at least a dozen or two of get togethers—with some highlights being our Halloween party, #Hamilten singalong, pre-New Year with family, and the initial housewarming. Each time, I am glad to learn something new about our guests, to see them interact with one another, and just a general sense of maintained camaraderie over the years.
In a weird way, I think I like (prefer) hosting—as opposed to going out—because it allows me to hang out with my friends in the lowest key possible: being at home means we could just sit in silence, or take turns in talking (I can just watch my friends talk to one another), eat at our own time, finding random activities, all the while having the safety of not meeting strangers.
One thing I have been struggling with, however, is what it means to have accumulated wealth—in the form of property, for example—as a couple of entrepreneurs/professionals with no kids. Have we been participating in worsening inequality? How could I redefine ‘enough’ for us as a family unit, something that has been such a core value for me growing up? What kind of world allows us to mobilize up while people lose their jobs and barely making the ends meet?
These are all questions I hope to answer in 2026.
***
On the last night of 2025, as Ara was sharing things he was grateful about, I realized that I, too, had an abundance of things I deeply, deeply feel undeserving of: Actual human beings who for some reason decided to love and support me (including in some of the ugliest period of my life), great times and laughters with friends, how amazing of a puppy Penny/Pepen has been (!), a whole team of capable young minds who has the audacity to take on the adventure of risky experiments with me, being able to hang out with our parents and siblings regularly, and—most important of all—our health.
I started 2026 ugly-crying in our bed, feeling an overflowing sense of gratitude throughout my entire body, thinking of those still struggling in Sumatra and other parts of the planet, wishing that all the other beings on Earth could also feel this sense of ‘happiness in your stomach’.
Happy new year, friends.
Afu's Conundrum Journal 