The Second Chance

I don’t know how many of us truly get second chances (or more importantly, how many of us recognise them when they arrive).

The last 14 weeks have been nothing short of miraculous for me. Life (every single dimension of it) was upgraded in the most painful way possible. Looking back, I’m deeply grateful for everything that happened, though in the moment I was too overwhelmed to make sense of it.

Now that the rollercoaster has slowed and I’ve stepped back onto stable ground, I find myself quietly asking: What just happened?

My health scare was the scariest chapter of my life. When your body begins to break down and death hovers close, something in you changes. You can’t negotiate with biology, but you can negotiate with your presence. Mortality doesn’t wait. And when it taps you on the shoulder, it accelerates your living. Every moment begins to matter in a way it never did before.

In my case, my bone marrow was overachieving, producing platelets at an alarming rate, and that brought everything to a grinding halt. There were no instructions. No clear next steps. Just a tunnel I had to walk through not knowing if there was light at the end. Emotionally and physically, it was chaos.

And life didn’t pause. It carried on with its demands.

2024 had already been heavy. I had gone through a marital separation. It felt like a typhoon had already swept through our family, and I wasn’t sure if we could survive another one. This time, it felt like the damage might be irreversible. I didn’t want to break what was already fragile. That fear made it even harder to share what I was going through.

I went through a painful business separation too. My partners didn’t know what I was dealing with health wise (and I couldn’t explain it) because everyone's own pain is greater than the other. Decisions were made, not discussed. Work had its own complications, and I became, for the first time in my career, a liability instead of an asset. I knew what I was navigating, but others couldn’t see it. All I wanted was time and space, but I couldn’t ask for it. Not then.

I carried it all silently. I didn’t open up to my growing children or ageing mother, I wasn’t sure whether I would receive support or place a heavy emotional burden on them.

So I walked this path alone. No one came to the clinic with me. No one held me when I felt faint. No one fetched a towel when I bled. No one made me coffee when my head pounded. And in that solitude, I changed.

I learned to make coffee for myself.
To listen to myself.
To care for my body when it broke down.
To hold my own hand when anxiety spiralled.
I even went to the lawyer to register my will (just in case).

I became my own best friend. I laughed with myself. I slept beside myself. I woke up and held space for myself.

And in that journey, I changed. Something in me shifted permanently.

I took bold decisions, not for heroism, but to prioritise myself. I walked away from places that added stress to me without explanations. I stopped negotiating. I chose peace over proving a point.

Then, slowly, my health returned. A full night’s sleep became a blessing. The ability to lift a spoon and feed myself brought gratitude. My smile stayed, even when the world around didn’t change one bit The spark of liberation hit me like a lightning bolt.

For a brief moment, I felt what Buddha must have felt under that tree. Except I realised something profound: I don’t need pain to become Buddha. I can simply be, calmly and wholly myself, among fellow humans in a kind and compassionate way.

Fast forward to today:
My health is back.
My heart is whole.
I’m stepping into a role that stretches my leadership to new heights.
I’m finally beginning my authorship journey (my Wu Wei).
I’m transforming the remnants of old businesses into assets that will serve the Foundation (#pifo).
And most of all, I’ve built the most sacred relationship of all: the one with me.

Second chances don’t always come announced. But when they do, and when you take them fully, they don’t just restore you. They remake you.

Buddhas are made. Not born. Even the corporate ones!