Fun That We Rarely Have

A Word That Weighs More Than It Seems

As I sit before my laptop, I feel a little wave of sadness weighing heavy on my heart. Fun. A simple three-letter word — but the weight it carries is so deep and profound. Sadness seems to greet me first, before I feel the magic of fun. And as the years pass, fun has quietly become rarer.

I remember growing up, looking forward to November and December when school came to an end. That meant my cousin from KL would arrive at my grandfather’s house in JB. Oh, how excited I would be, waiting for their arrival. When they finally came, it was non-stop chaos — fun, fighting the way kids do, food, games, gossip, and some heated competitions. Nineties kids may remember that Beyblades were a very real thing back then. Mischievousness and laughter would fill the air.

Since I was the oldest of the girls, the three of us would come together for our own girls’ time. We would go up to my bedroom, lock the door, and gossip, laugh, tell stories, and do all the girly things — before we were rudely interrupted by the boys, always prying at the door. We had so many interesting tales shared within those walls. Now, none of them are present in my life. The cousins who were once so close are now a distant memory, lost in the past, locked away in our childhood. We grew up, and everyone seemed to decide they were too good for one another.

Why has fun become such a rare treasure? I lost an important part of my childhood somewhere in my adulthood. None of us could bring ourselves to carry that fun forward into the lives we now live. I wonder — did we really change for the worse?

Everyone becomes caught up in the current of their own lives. Did I change? Of course I did. My past made me who I am today. I love how it shaped me into becoming a life coach — from a Law graduate of the University of London to a coach. A completely different route, but I am proud of every step of that journey.

The Weight of Growing Up

I was inspired by an email I received about how many of us were burdened by stress, commitments, and responsibilities — postpone fun. We postpone the ability to truly enjoy ourselves, without needing some external stimulant to get there.

As I stepped into my entrepreneurial journey, which is quite recent, I realised that managing a business on your own means making sacrifices, and one of the first things to go is fun. It means sometimes skipping family gatherings to sit at home and work. It means playing the role of ten people, all on your own. Now, where exactly am I supposed to find the time for fun?

As I reminisce about my younger days, I remember dreading school and hating student life. I looked up at adults and thought, “Wow, it must be so amazing to be an adult. No one to boss you around.” I was guilty of wanting to grow up too fast. Adult life is exhilarating, but it comes with a price if you don’t know how to truly manage your life. I deeply regret not enjoying the freedom of being a child, unburdened by responsibilities and worries. Now I have full autonomy over my life. But where is the fun?

What Fun Means to Me Now

Fun, in my adulthood, feels fleeting, rare, and hard to come by. And you know what the epiphany of this moment is? I spend my days helping women navigate their limiting beliefs and triggers in life. And as I write this, I realise that this is a deep-seated trigger from my own past. As I write this article to inspire you, dear reader, I find myself being inspired in the process.

As my eyes well up, I arrive at a moment of realisation: Where did the part of me that once loved fun, laughter, stories, and gatherings go? The part of me that crackled with life like there was no one in the room — the part that allowed her soul to laugh freely without a trace of pain — where did she go?

My life was not a ride in the park. I survived things I do not wish on others. Crushed by PTSD and anxiety at one point, I watched my life burn down in flames and slowly built it back from the ashes. Somewhere in all of that, I lost my sense of fun. I forgot what fun even looked like. I struggled to connect with people who weren’t really aligned with who I was.

Something Has to Change

I have come to learn that fun is not a luxury reserved for vacations or special occasions. It is a vital spark that keeps our energy alive. Moments of play, curiosity, and laughter refresh the mind, lift the spirit, and remind us that joy is meant to be part of everyday life.

Have you ever come across a photo or a quote that reminded you not to save your happiness for when you’ve achieved a certain goal, or acquired something material? That same reminder is here, in this article, for you now. Reserve fun for the small but deeply meaningful moments of your everyday life — not just for the big occasions.

I recall one particular moment when I made my mum stop and have a Starbucks date with me. She was clearly restless and rushing me to head home, but I told her I wanted to take that moment to truly tune in — to let the world and all my problems dissolve, just for a little while. Me, my drink, my mum, and the café we were sitting in. Soft music playing in the background, easing into my mood. How freeing it was. Fun in doing nothing — simply by being fully present. It felt more than good enough.

When did you last experience fun like that? A deep, soul-level joy? Being fully present with yourself, sipping your favourite drink, with your favourite person — or even entirely on your own?

I See My Future Now

I believe that over the years, I have attached happiness to moments, people, memories, and situations outside of myself. I realise now that fun can come in any shape and form. I am giving myself permission to define fun in a way that feels truly aligned with my soul.

At this stage in my life, I feel excitement and genuine fun in helping women connect deeply with themselves. I feel fun in writing articles like this one — articles that push me out of my comfort zone and teach me a little more about the parts of myself I had forgotten. I feel fun in taking slow, intentional moments throughout my day. I feel joy in laughing like there is no one watching. I feel fun in meditating and in my quiet moments alone with the Universe.

Today, I am writing a new story. I envision a circle of aligned women, bonded together around a bonfire under a starlit sky. Fun music playing softly in the background. A gentle swim in a glistening lake. Laughter that feels soulful and genuine. Dancing that uplifts and heals. Stories shared that pull us closer to one another. A sisterhood that gathers every full moon under the open sky — enjoying life, and growing together spiritually.

My vision of fun has evolved. As I wipe away the tears of the past, I feel the heaviness lifting. I open myself to this new future — a future of having fun in a way that truly nourishes and uplifts my soul.

Dear Reader, Feed Your Soul

I invite you to take a quiet moment and reflect on this journal prompt:

“What is your soul’s definition of fun, and how do you wish to live it?”

It can be as simple as enjoying a warm cup of tea in the peaceful silence of your morning, or choosing to be more fully present in the lives of your children. What makes you feel genuinely alive at the soul level? Write it down. And then live by it.

Fun has a way of resetting the nervous system. It reminds you that life is not only about hustle and grind, about stress and responsibilities, about past traumas or triggers. When you begin incorporating small, soul-aligned moments of fun into your daily life, watch how much shifts for you.

Can you make a quiet promise to yourself — a pinky swear that you will commit to doing at least one small, joyful thing every single day? This one practice will gently guide you back to yourself, back to the part of you that you lost somewhere along the way. Even a few minutes can shift the entire tone of your day.

Lean into the sound of pure joy when it arrives. Amplify it. Feel it. Let it cascade through every cell of your body. And afterwards, take one small moment to feel grateful for the fun you allowed yourself to experience.

As I write this final sentence, I realise something I had not expected. I came here to write about fun — and somewhere between the memories of my cousins in JB, the tears I did not plan to shed, and the Starbucks moment with my mum, I found a small, quiet piece of myself that I had left behind without even noticing.

I had been waiting. Waiting to have fun until I had built something worthy of celebrating. Waiting to laugh freely until life felt stable enough to exhale. Waiting to simply be — until I had become everything I set out to become.

But life does not pause while we prepare for it. It is already happening, in the ordinary Tuesday afternoons, in the quiet cup of coffee, in the unexpected laugh that catches you off guard. It was always happening. I was just too busy postponing it to notice.

I do not have all the answers yet. My coaching practice is still young. My bonfire sisterhood is still a vision on the horizon. But today — just today — I let myself feel a little lighter for having written this. For having remembered. For having allowed the girl who once locked her bedroom door and laughed until her sides hurt to show up, even briefly, in these pages.

That felt like enough. That felt like fun. Happy Fun.