In late 2018, I was the head of IT in a firm I had dedicated many years of my life to. One afternoon, I was called into a meeting, handed an envelope, and told that my role had been made redundant. Just like that, 18 years of hard work, late nights and quiet sacrifices went up in smoke.
The first thing I did was call my wife. She didn’t say much, just “Come home first. We’ll figure it out.”
Her words grounded me in that moment. Because truthfully, my mind was completely blank – I had no idea what to do next.
For the next three years, I felt like I was floating. Life became a meaningless blur of job applications sent into the void, polite rejections, and radio silence.
With bills to pay, I became a Grab driver. It was honest work, and I came to appreciate the structure of the routine and the small human moments in picking up a sleepy executive at 6am or chatting with retirees on the way to the clinic.
And then COVID-19 hit. Almost overnight, the roads emptied. My bookings dropped to a trickle; sometimes I’d wait 40 minutes for a single ride. I drove 10-12 hours each day and barely made enough to cover petrol, let alone meals, utilities, and my family’s other needs. Still, every single dollar mattered.
Behind the wheel, I fought not just physical exhaustion , but doubt. How long could I keep going like this? I carried my burdens with clenched teeth and silent prayers, but they only seemed to be growing heavier each day.
For three years, I was running on empty both physically and emotionally. I asked myself over and over: “Yatim, is this what you have become?”
