My father passed away on 2 March 2019. It was a Saturday, and one day after I resigned from a Middle East company. It was unexpected because we had a false alarm back in December 2018. That false alarm took place in Singapore General Hospital (SGH) at Ward 58, a high-dependency ward.

I remembered that day quite clearly. I received a call from my mother at work around 11am, and she told me the doctor told us to get ready to be by my father’s side because all his readings and indicators did not look good. I immediately went to my boss, informed him and was out of the office within 5 minutes. The fortunate thing was I was at Central Business District, so getting to SGH was very easy – 4 bus stops away.

We started informing our relatives, and more and more came down to the hospital. A few of us got mad because the high-dependency ward restricted only to 2 visitors at a time per patient. Each high-dependency ward can accommodate 5 to 6 patients. We also had to wrap ourselves with gown and mask before we can enter the ward.

However, my father pulled through with tons of antibiotics and fluids pumping through him. We stayed overnight for a night, and 2 more days in hospital to ensure he was ok. I went to take Medical Leave (for 2 days) and split my off-in-lieu into 2 half days to account for my missing in action at work.

Therefore, when my father was transferred to St Andrews’ Community Hospital (SACH) on 4 January 2019, we thought it might be another false alarm (on 2 March). I went to Expo to attend the Reno Fair, but left within 15minutes after getting a call from my sister that my father’s condition was starting to deteriorate rapidly. The rest of the day we stayed in the ward with him. Fortunately, this time round we had a single room to ourselves. Hence the experience was way better than SGH. We bought food and my family went back home (it was much closer to home at this hospital) to take his clothes and portrait (in the scenario that he passes away and we need to pass to the casket upon his death).

That afternoon, my father started displaying the same symptoms as he had in SGH. He had breathlessness and was given oxygen tube. They monitored the amount of morphine given, and increased it steadily. From half propping up, my father had to lie down. But he did manage to drink a bottle of bird’s nest before he started to lie down. More morphine and another painkiller were administered intravenously. Oxygen tube was replaced with oxygen mask for higher concentration to relieve his breathlessness. My sister and I wanted to get some drinks from the vending machine at ground level after our dinner so we left for around 5 to 10 minutes. Once we went back up, the nurses quickly came to us to tell us our father was not feeling well. They were changing his diapers and monitoring his eye motion. It was still and he was staring into blank space. We already noticed this around 5pm that afternoon.

At 7.55pm, my father was declared dead. We were all around him, with me whispering into his ears to follow the first white light he sees.  A quick short emotional process followed, and we quickly called the casket. From his death to the 4-day funeral wake, it was smooth. Yes, I did experience some bouts of sadness and did properly grieve in the wee hours. At one point, I was wondering if I would feel any sadness because there were too much shouting and anger during the past year.

At this point, I could only say that I do feel sad because after he was my father, but I was very relieved because we can finally close this chapter and move on with our lives. I always believe that if there is no hope for recovery and quality of life is non-existent (he was bedridden towards the end and couldn’t eat at all), it is better to pass on as quickly as possible to reduce pain and suffering. I was also very grateful and glad that we managed to get my father in an in-patient hospice environment because the nurses and doctor helped us a lot during the very last few moments before my father's death. They explained to us the symptoms displayed and we felt less frazzled. Their constant checks and comfort/consolation to us played a very very great role. Hence, my mother decided to make a donation in my father's name to express our heartfelt appreciation to them.

Right now, we are just following the Chinese rites of 49 days where we go on alternate 7th day (the first 7th day, third 7th day, fifth 7th day and the seventh 7th day) to pray.  Thereafter, since my new home will be closer to the temple which houses my father’s tablet, I will go and pay my respects on a yearly basis. Even if there are any days that we cannot, at least the temple will be able to do it on our behalf.
Life has resumed very quickly back to normal for my mother and I. For the past 2 years, especially 2018, my father was spending most of his time in hospital. Hence, we already got accustomed to living without my father for a long time. I am now back on active job hunting and my mother is now planning for her own holiday with her friends.

But my sister and I did fulfill our promise to her by bringing her to Penang for a short getaway after a long and tiring caregiving period. I shall devote another post on our experience in Penang shortly!

The topic of settling down came to me again when my cousins came over to visit my father. Yes, currently, there are many people who will visit my house and see my father, ever since we told them my father’s days are numbered.
While chit chatting, my cousin who is like 9 years younger than me and a father of one, asked:
“Don’t you want to fnd someone and get married?” 
 
Well, I replied him that now that I have my own job and a small house of my own, I do not want to compromise and get married to anyone for the sake of getting married. Especially, since I do not want to have children. I know this last condition will eliminate the very limited pool of guys who are keen on women my age. But I really am not keen to have children in my forties and do the diapers thing. That is horrifying.

Looking at my facebook, I see some posts of my ex colleague who is about in her early 30s and managed to find a guy to marry after her Masters in Wealth Management.  Another friend of mine from my Japanese class, found a guy from Coffee Meets Bagel app. Well, I have tried online dating before and I think if no guy is willing to ask you out for the second meet-up, shouldn’t you get the hint and move on?

Yes, I do admit I do lie down in my bed and wonder in life if I am going to be solo in this lifetime, but I also think it is highly based on fate and affinity to meet the right guy. At the very least, the guy must be interested enough to woo me by asking me out on dates right? If I woo someone who doesn't like me, wouldn't my twilight years be tough serving and waiting on someone who will be old by then too?

If any of my readers in their late thirties/forties experienced this before, I look forward to hearing from you on how you respond to such comments/remarks.
 
 

Sorry for the disappearance for some time after I did my last update on the “My Experiences” section on my June trip to China and Korea (I actually went to Mount Bromo and Ijen Crater this July but I will strive to post that next weekend).

I focused back on getting a job because it was getting increasingly harder to pay the bills out of my savings and especially when we engaged a maid to help my mum out with chores. After two months of my mum with my maid, the constant complaint about the maid was driving me crazy. Thankfully, my father decided to discharge himself out of hospital because there was nothing they can do for him.
The maid showed her usefulness by helping to wheel my father to meet his friends while my mum do the cooking and preparing the medicine. The maid also helped my father to go toilet at night so both of us can sleep. To me, this was the period when we needed the extra pair of hands.

For the first week when my father came back, I arranged for the home hospice care to commence. The palliative nurse came and decided to bring the palliative doctor on the second visit. The doctor told us it seemed my father still didn’t know (actually he has been told before by the surgeons) that there were no more solutions and he had to face death (of course, they said it in an indirect manner).
I decided to seek my father’s chemotherapy doctor’s help by asking him if he could spare a session to meet my father. It was tough but we need to drive this message to him. After coming back from the session, my father just told me: “The doctor told me I am going to die. No more help.” It seemed a little heartless to break this news repeatedly to him. But I firmly felt that one should know, accept the fact that his/her days are numbered so that they can move on to accept the results emotionally and mentally. My father resumed his smoking which he stopped for close to a year, but we let him be.

The palliative nurse’s regular visits helped us tremendously by teaching the maid how to take care of the wound (so my mum and her could take turns) and improve her caregiving skills. I could focus on my work and earn money which I badly needed now, with a house to renovate next year.

 I am thinking of bringing my venerable to talk to my father be it in hospice or home so that death is less frightening for my father. Other than that, I think pretty much my work is done. I have accepted the fact that I will welcome 2019 mostly likely without my father.
 

The first quarter of 2018 has passed. It was a period of constant change, anxiety, a sense of eventuality and boredom for me.  

Why?

My father was in and out of hospital for three times within the past quarter. In April, he was re-admitted for the fourth time. February was the worst. When he was discharged after a 2 month-long hospitalization, he was feverish for three days and nights. My mother and I experienced anxiety for the first two nights. On the third evening, my elder sister came over and decided we need to send him via ambulance back to hospital.  Subsequently, he stayed twice more due to fever and high output volume from his fistula opening.

It was a nerve racking experience each time he was home. In addition, it was tiring. Making sure he ate his medications, cleaning his wounds which could come up to four times a day, monitoring the colour of his discharge, and quarreling with him when he refused to eat the home cooked food. To be fair to him, his stomach became smaller after the surgery and he could not absorb the food he ate. He also vomited frequently if he overate (by his standards).  I was angry and spent a lot of time complaining and wrestling with the hospital team over their lack of attention and care.  Eventually for the most recent hospitalization, I decided to re-admit my father to his very first hospital. It was nearer to our home as well, which made it easier for us to visit him.

Last week, I was asked to go to the hospital to meet the doctor, three days after he was admitted. The doctor sat me down to explain his planned strategy to help heal my father’s fistula opening.  I agreed to the plan. Then, he looked at me and said he wanted to talk to me about my father’s CT scan. It was diagnosed that my father’s cancer has spread to his lungs (he was first diagnosed with colon cancer).
This meant that my father’s cancer is at advanced stage and the current prognosis is 1.5 years. In a strange way, I felt a sense of eventuality, a final sense of certainty. At least I know the time left for us to do planning ahead. I decided to withhold this information from my father at the moment while he struggled to heal his fistula.  I believe towards the end I will definitely feel sad again, perhaps when I break the news to him. It will be hard for him to accept. But I want him to enjoy every single day now in blissful ignorance.

The boredom arose when I took on a temporary job while deciding to give myself a final deadline when it comes to switching fields. Just when I was struggling to keep myself awake at work because there was nothing to do at all in that job, my current role came. I stayed on in the temp role till the contract officially ended because I needed the money.

A strange contrast of feelings

Why do I call it a strange contrast of feelings? Well, my father brings me sadness to a certain degree (although I am holding up pretty well since I was mentally prepared a long time ago), and I am facing a brand new start in my second career, which should be a happy occasion.

My current new role marks the start of my journey to a new career – hopefully a less intense job than my previous line in corporate communications/public relations. Naturally I experienced slight anxiety again in this new field but I told myself I will just give my best shot, yet pace myself right this time.
I will not bring my laptop back home unless I have US night calls. Other than that, no work for me during evenings and definitely not weekends. My weekends are for my father and pursuing my own personal pursuits.  Mentally I am also prepared to face bad colleagues, colleagues who push work to me and colleagues who are condescending.

But deep down I know one thing, I won’t give up on writing. Every single cell in me refused to write for any corporations now – those meaningless silly emails, speeches, letters etc. I hate others trampling on my work. I hated it. And I want to protect my love of writing fiercely. No one shall change nor distort my work ever again. I will devote my true love for writing in areas that truly meant something to me. The greatest reason for a career switch is to have a less intense career.

Moving to a new career doesn’t mean I will give up communications. Nope, I will not. I will continue to write, but only for myself.  My book (I will get to it, definitely), my blog and if possible I will try to start contribute to some media to start gaining traction.

All I can say is, life really throws curveballs at you when you least expected it.

I know I post very infrequently on my blog, and I should be more diligent, which means I am going to make that a reality this year.

Readers know my blog is about sharing authentic true experiences and thoughts, be it good or bad, evil or kind thoughts. It is all about growing up. However, I could only write an article if I feel that it is a common issue that I think not only me, but others could also come across. I need to write articles that echoed with others.
However, after my first book attempt, I decided to re-start again as I decide to make writing all about passion only (I shall only write to express myself). Instead of writing in word and chucking it in one folder on my laptop, I am going to start posting the first few chapters onto my blog under the My Books section. After receiving a basic workshop on photoshop, I am also going to try my hands on drawing and using my own pictures for my book as well.

I am hoping readers can give me some feedback so that I can shape my book along the way and at the same time, I want to use this site to attract publishers as well.

I am also going to post a recent (well, 6 months is not too long for me) China/South Korea trip on My Experiences section.
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I promise I will write more and more often to populate more stories under different categories. Please share with me your feedback! Your feedback gives me energy and motivation!! 

With 3 more years to the big 4-0, fellow classmates around my age are already busy with their children. For those who are married and have kids later (around 35), they are busy juggling work and family. However, I firmly believe that you can afford to spend one day out of 365 – no, make that 1 afternoon –  to meet up with your friends to catch-up.

I have a university friend whom I was closest to her during university days. After we graduated, we still met up but on an ad-hoc basis. She was attached in her first job and soon followed her boyfriend, now husband, to Boston for further studies. Thereafter, she moved to London with him for 4 years. I never visited her in London because honestly speaking, it is an expensive destination and not an appealing country to me.

She invited me to her wedding prior to her trip to London, and it was 4 years later when she returned to Singapore heavily pregnant that I caught up with her again. The meet-ups were infrequent and the very last was when I visited her after work. At that time, my workplace is near her house and she was waiting for her first job back in Singapore to start.  I saw her first child. Then, when she started work, I also visited her during lunchtime when I was not working/in between jobs.

However, after not meeting for another year and my workplace is not near town area, I decided to ask her for a date this June. Considering now is January, there is plenty of time for her to make plans for childcare on a Saturday. She rejected flatly stating she needs to take over caring for her kids and give her in-laws a break. Well, what is her husband for? And couldn’t he take over for a Saturday afternoon?

After 3 years of me compromising to her schedule/venue, I decided that was it. And it dawned upon me that perhaps the friendship had already changed after she went to London with her husband. Hence I gave her a text replying perhaps we shall meet up 5 years or later when her kids are older  since I have my father to take care, and gave a nonchalant take care to end off the conversation.

She replied “So no lunchtimes?”

I didn’t open that message and promptly blocked her on WhatsApp. I knew she likes to check others’ facebook status and so I also blocked her from my facebook.
Although it was sad, but I felt that perhaps this friendship had already “expired” several years back. I always made it a point that I will not make myself that available to anyone if they do not know how to reciprocate. Since she never really asked about my life and is pretty self-centred after I reflected the past few years’ conversation, I decided ending my friendship with her once and for all really doesn’t make an impact on my current life.

It is true. After blocking, I realised I did not miss much at all. There was NO IMPACT at all. Although I still have flashing angry thoughts about her, but I always try to tell myself to move on. She may be happy with her current lifestyle, but I knew, like all women, when their children are grown up and have their own friends during their teen-hood, they will regret for not keeping any female friends around. I am not going to be one of those spare tyres then. I deserved more and much more genuine friends.

Another university friend whom we recently patched back – me taking the initiative – told me: “You change your friends as you get older.”
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That is so true. But I disagree with her when she said your social circle gets smaller.  I can be extroverted if I want to, and I want to strike a balance of keeping my secondary school (equivalent to high school for those in USA) friends and continuously making new friends through workplace and other business/social meet-ups. 

Have you ever complain to vent your frustration, only to invite scant remarks from others? Remarks such as “don’t complain so much”, “you are too negative. It is only in your first two weeks in your new company” and “you need to snap out of it”.  Life threw me another lesson to learn recently:  No one will understand until it happened to you.

Before I get into the details, I need to explain the background albeit it is a little tad bit long. Bear with me.

Now in my late thirties, I am experiencing this strong urge for the second time to make a mid-career switch. 10 years back, when I was 28 years old, I tried to make a career switch out of my marketing career. I stumbled upon a course called Chartered Financial Analyst (CFA). On paper, the course looks terrific for someone who wants a career switch. Low cost, self-study is possible and no disruption to my existing career. Pull factors were higher pay, sounds more intellectual/professional (compared to marketing) and the chances of mobility might be higher (been on my wish list for a long time). Sounds naïve and shallow reasons to the current older me now.

The first career switch was not successful. The closest I got was an asset management firm that reeked of nothing but Oscar-level politics among less than 20 old and useless colleagues in the country office. Very quickly, I soon learnt this office lost the political tussle with its Hong Kong counterpart, handing over its regional headquarter status to the latter. The old people spent their time gossiping and thinking of ways to milk the company (granted I got a free all-expenses paid trip to Macau/Hong Kong in the name of department retreat).

However, I got in due to my marketing skills and my level of experience (not too senior and thus not that expensive), NOT my pursuit of the Chartered Financial Analyst course. Despite passing Level 1 on my first try, Level 2 was a failure despite three attempts.

However, deep down I was in denial with myself. My mathematical foundation was not strong enough, and frankly I really dislike portfolio management. A question came to my mind while working at the asset management firm: if analysts and portfolio managers are so good with numbers, why do they still fail to foresee the financial crisis? That was during the 2008 Lehman Brothers financial crisis.

I continued my path in marketing and communications on paper so no employers knew I was pursuing the route to finance. Recently, I told my ex-colleague who is in her late forties about my strong wish to get out of my current career. I admit, I was complaining too fast and too much in my current contractual role, partly because it has been embroiled in a big unitholders’ revolt scandal. However, it only invited scant remarks from this ex-colleague that I was too whiny. The ironic thing was she recently only start to experience how I felt in my previous employment, and admitted she finally understood how I felt.

It was painful, because I treated her as my mentor despite working with her for a very short stint. I was devastated, demoralized, depressed. I was fearful when I felt depressed again, because I have this sense of awareness that kicks in automatically when I start to get that feeling. I am terrified to spiral down into depression again. After a weekend of intense anger, I realised two things: first, no one understand until it happened to you; second, I am determined to prove to her that changing field is possible and doable, save my own sanity by leaving this career, yet continuing my marketing and communications on the side line through my blog and other writing pursuits that I enjoy.

Through this episode, I began to see her as a normal ex-colleague. I also began to see her flaws. She procrastinates on her own life. She sees and value consistency when it is no longer valued among employers nowadays.  Whenever I told her there are alternative ways or new information, she wants more information without taking the initiative to find out more on her own.

If someone wants it badly, they will do whatever it takes to change it. For me, if something is wrong, and I am aware of it, I want to fix it. I knew it was a mistake for me to be in marketing/communications. I took the initiative to email to potential employers seeking for face-to-face/telephone advice on the possibility of several career options: psychologists, allied health workers, pharmacists (yes, I was prepared to go back to school to get a more professional degree).  I applauded myself for having the determination to seek information in a very active manner. I always believe people who take real actions to change and chart their own course in life are the true warriors/champions in life.

I concluded she is not serious about making the change to her life. She recognised how tough public relation is, and how the jobscope keeps on expanding and everyone thinks they can be a PR expert, but she still persists because this is all she ever knows in her career. In fact, I see a little masochism in her. She actually takes pride in the fact that she can take the downside of her role. I knew I wasted my breath talking to her because she is not able to take that step to change.

Procrastination is common. I know many people, including me, procrastinate over some stuff. Family, work, relationships, personal, emotions….who doesn’t? I will be lying if I say I never procrastinate. I pinpointed down the fact that I got really mad at her when she procrastinated and faced the same issue, but judged me by telling me off just like that.

Right now, I have moved on from this episode. I learnt from my first failed career switch. My second career is now based on more realistic considerations: my personality at work, my strengths, the stress level of the new career, the money that I am able to earn for the next 20 years or so, the level of barrier to entry in that field, and the amount of efforts that I need to put in (do I have to study full time etc) to develop my skillsets in that new field.  
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I also gained the determination to prove to her (of course, to myself as well which is the most important) that I can, and will make the necessary change to my life. I can, and will create a much more successful and fulfilling professional life in my new career path.  At the same time, I also want to proudly own a successful business model which I can continue to pursue in my golden years, leveraging on my marketing and communications experience in pursuits where I truly enjoy (unlike now). 

People surrounding me, be it family members that I see everyday, or strangers that I meet while people-watching on buses and trains, often serve as a lesson for me to learn frequently. Some people may call it “Moral of the story”, “Life lesson today”. The protagonist for today’s life lesson is my father.

My father was diagnosed with colon cancer in March 2017. After complaining pain on his side for close to a year but refusing to do anything concrete, he went to A&E one night after shivering from a night of high fever.  He was admitted to hospital immediately and after being on the highest level of antibiotics the doctor summoned us on a Sunday to get our consent for a colon surgery. The doctor had to remove a portion of the affected colon. We agreed.

After 21 days in the hospital, my father recovered with fairly health indicators and weak heart (natural for post-operation patients).  A long-time heavy smoker for close to 40 years, I thought this would suffice as a trigger for my father to stop smoking. Barely 2 weeks have passed and I saw him puffing away despite being on chemotherapy drugs for 6 months.

5 months have passed and the recent report showed he has new growth in the colon. I knew this was coming. Although the doctors will only confirm if it is cancer and/or infection after a scope+biopsy, deep in my heart, I believe this is a cancer relapse. Throughout these 5 months, my father was always in self-denial.  He always thinks cancer will be cured once and for all, or it will never happen to him. His family history has a strong record of cancer. My grandfather and uncle (his younger brother) have passed away due to cancer. He was fortunate to be detected with cancer at stage 2. However, he chose to allude himself, thinking it would not happen to him the way his father and brother had. To me, I felt that he was very silly to give up that precious chance of survival (stage 2 colon cancer patients have very high recovery rate).

As a caretaker, I find little focus on us and the anger and frustration that we experienced while dealing with self-denial patients. I came across this UK article. Although the context is between a patient with no family and healthcare workers, I totally understand and relate to the degree of anger and frustration that these workers are feeling every single day.

If there are any readers who are undergoing the same anger and frustration as me, I would really appreciate if you could drop me a comment below. Private messages are strongly welcomed as well. I just need to find some solace from people who understand what I am going through now, and I am sure I am not the only one feeling this way.
 

I started subscribing to news feed and other inspirational/motivational feeds and unfollow most of my friends’ daily posting on their children and gatherings ( I am experiencing social media fatigue).  There is a particular Taiwanese feed that is my current favourite as some of the quotes they post really speak to me at the right time.

This post came to my feed when I had an earlier conversation with my friend about singlehood and marriage on that very evening. We shared the same outlook that unless you meet the right one (not in terms of looks and wealth, but more on personality and character) the marriage might be a burden and a source of depression, stress and sadness in your life. There are many unhappy marriages around us, be it friends or colleagues, and we wondered if marriage is really the path to happiness (of course, we are glad that there are happy blissful marriages as well :) ). 

For my readers who are non-chinese, this passage basically says:  the writer said many people asked her if the reason behind her singlehood for a long time was due to high expectations. She replied no.  She met guys who expressed their interest in her but she does not think they are genuinely interested in her. They just pay lip service to her. For example, they expressed their concern on her but when she faced difficulties, no one step out to really lend her a hand at that moment. When she fell sick, they only told her to drink more water and rest more. When it was pouring cats and dogs at night, they just told her to be careful on the way back. So she reasoned that she is simply very clear that the guys in her life do not place a lot of emphasis on her; or they may like her, but it does not hinder them liking others as well.  The only regret she has in this life is she has never experienced a relationship with the other party having absolute devotion on her. It is simply a feeling that he happens to need someone, and she happens to be there.

When I came across this passage, I felt this passage summarises the reason behind my singlehood. When I was 17-18, I had classmates who liked me. But they never wooed me. Never.  When we met each other after graduation, they just avoided me.  10 over guys ( i think they had a gathering among themselves). One did pick up courage to ask me out but I declined because I really don’t see we can communicate deeply during our contact in school.  10 years later, we had a class reunion gathering. He brought a girlfriend who is as introverted as him. Another guy who liked me was soon also married with 2 children now (he did not woo me at all when we graduated. I might consider him actually). So, to me, I gathered that they may like me but it is not deep at all. They can easily find another girl to replace and be their wives.

Coming to 37 in 3 months’ time, I already knew I have past my prime and it is not possible to get married in this life. But I am now coming to terms with my singlehood in a peaceful manner and have made a resolution that my planning for the future will be based on my current status. I will save money for my retirement since I have gotten a house of my own (yes I am still rejoicing and grateful over that every single day), start researching slowly on overseas retirement schemes so that I can live a comfortable life in my golden years at a lower cost and checking out areas that provide medical facilities when I need assistance during my silver years. I also decided to re-start making more friends as social circle is important for mental and emotional health.
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I have also decided not to waste time messing up my mind nor feelings (the awful up and down emotion, the sense of disappointment, lost and envy when you see other couples together) on searching for Mr Right. Instead, I try to prolong my health (simply because I only have myself to rely on when I am old) so that I am still in decent health when I retire and able to travel to other countries at a leisure pace. I also plan to spend more and more time on my religion so that I can cultivate a sense of purpose, direction and peace in my life. 

My current rationale is this: if I have only 60 years in this lifetime, that means I have 23 more years to go. I hope to live as happy and peaceful every single day as I can in these 23 remaining years. Don't you agree? 

If you had read my past post, you would realise that my current wonderful days of doing nothing have a blemish: my mother.  If she is not around, I would enjoy my days now more freely. Perhaps that is why now whenever I have some goodies, I keep to myself rather than sharing with her. I don’t think it is worth it.

Every time she starts ranting early in the morning (and trust me, on a daily basis), it is really tiring. I went to google and saw an article that echo my exact current problem.  I can only say they are DARN right. My mother falls under the category due to abusive childhood and the best solution is to engage a 3rd party to take care of her. Since my sister has volunteered to take care of her next time, frankly I have no worries. I just need to get out of this house in 1 to 2 years’ time and start to recuperate my mental and emotional health. The next 20 years will be a quiet one. :)

Hope to share these 2 links with any readers who are also facing the same issue. You are not alone, at least that was how I felt  when I saw so many readers posting in their stories on the same exact issue.