The (not so) high life of a socialite's daughter - Part 1

My childhood is perhaps the most exciting part of my life story. Sometimes it baffles me how I can remember so much about things that took place a long time ago.

In many ways, my childhood captures the fundamental aspects of my life and the higher dimension of who I am as a person.

In telling the story of my roller-coaster-like life, I have to take you back to when I was a baby.

When I was 16, my mom revealed to me that I was adopted.

It was during the 1998 riots.

One day, her friend, who owned an orphanage, told my mom that there was a baby, and the mother's whereabouts were unknown. She had just picked me up from the hospital.

My mom immediately went to the orphanage. She told me that I was frail and looked weak, but white as snow. As soon as she laid her eyes on me, she immediately felt moved to take me in.

Even before she officially took me home, she would feed me, bought me clothes and took me to the market. After much discussion with my dad, grandparents and siblings, they agreed to welcome me home with open arms. Just like that, I became a part of the family.

I'm not fond of the word adopted, so I will say that I was chosen to be in the family.

I grew up in a family of seven. This is also the best part of our family because it means that there has never been a dull moment. I am the last-born of five children, which makes me the lucky number five. My siblings are three brothers and a sister.

Throughout my childhood, I was the baby in the family - the centre of all attention. My siblings and parents would take me everywhere. It was nagging at times, but all the good times came with it.

I wouldn't say I was a spoilt child, but the truth is that I got everything I wanted: books, shoes, clothes, toys, you name it. This makes me a little spoilt, I guess.

I was your typical girl next-door. I was into all sorts of hobbies and activities, which include, but not limited to, playing with Barbies, braiding dolls, making origami paper planes, riding the bicycle and watching Sponge Bob and Dora the Explorer.

I was just like any other normal kids of my time. Socially, I was a proverbial butterfly. I made friends quickly and got along with my peers. My ability to blend in and make friends easily can be attributed to my lack of shyness, high energy, talkativeness and my love for playing.

However, this would change gradually as I grew older. My high school years were the opposite, filled with fallouts, cliques and all forms of friendship drama.

I attended a private Christian school with kids whose backgrounds are similar to mine. Most of the kids in my school were Chinese-Indonesian. Their father owned a business and their mother stayed at home. There were a few kids who had parents with a 9-to-5 job.

The school had a strict dressing code –uniforms – to ensure that all kids were equal at school. Still, it wasn't hard to decipher the "types of kids," especially during parent-teacher meetings, which would pair kids with their parents.

During these meetings, one could quickly tell apart rich kids from the others based on how their mother dressed; they donned diamond rings, stiletto heels and Chanel purse and always had their hair bouncy and perfect.

For the most part, school was enjoyable and fun.

Besides lunch breaks, there were also annual Interhouse Athletics Day or extracurricular activities. I struggled in my education and I struggled for a long time. Still, I tried as hard as I could to beat the odds.

I remember one instance in grade 1 when I was sent with a letter for my parents from the school counselor and teacher. The next day, my parents accompanied me to school, where they were informed of my struggle with classwork and my poor performance.

I sat there and listened attentively. I understood the premise of their conversation, but I couldn't care less.

I vividly remember how I was taken to a psychologist on the following weekend to talk about my school life. I was asked questions about what I enjoyed or didn't at school and my hobbies. I was also asked to fill puzzles, read and draw. Being a seven year old, I didn't understand much of what was going on. Leaving the place, I remember feeling a little distraught but relieved that I didn't have to be there anymore.

However, this situation didn't go away and stayed in my mind. Now that I'm older, I finally understood what was really happening and the reason why I was there.

At the age of 14, I struggled with anorexia, depression and self-harm. I experienced many depression episodes when I would cry myself to sleep. I was always lethargic and felt disconnected from reality.

The disengagement from the real world led me to stray away from my family. I found that being alone was what was best for me.

Moreover, I didn't have a healthy relationship with food. The fallen angel on my shoulder told to me that if I overate, I would gain weight and that to be considered beautiful, I had to be skinny. In my mind, I wasn't thin enough. I avoided any impression of myself, be it through a mirror, window, or glass.

At one point, upon seeing my reflection, I told myself, "I don't have a thigh gap. That means I'm not skinny enough." It's a dysfunctional behavior.

I didn't take purgatives or exercise for endless hours every day. Although I did care about the number, I didn't weigh myself fanatically on the scale.

I simply didn't eat.

The appetite was overpowering, but I overlooked it. I felt a profound feeling of fulfillment that I had figured out how to overcome it. If I could ignore hunger, I was invulnerable. This belief kept me fulfilled. It caused me to feel something. Until it didn't.

It became so bad that I ended up harming myself. I would try to cover my cuts by wearing long-sleeved clothes and cardigans at home and school. As fate would have it, one day, my teacher noticed the red marks on my left arm. She pulled me out of class to privately discuss those red marks. After that, she informed my parents.

Let me tell you, the road to recovery wasn't easy, but it was definitely rewarding.

In high school, trouble became a regular trade in my life, earning me two suspensions – one for incomplete CAS activity and another for collusion. Additionally, I received two in-school suspensions for not completing internal assignment. The suspensions meant that I didn't attend classes for the entire day and had to work on my assignment at 7am-3pm.

Since I took IB, I was allowed to choose a total of six classes. I studied English, Geography, Biology, Bahasa Indonesia, Math Studies and Psychology. Although Math Studies was the easiest out of all the subjects, and though I tried to improve my mathematical skills, I still did poorly on that subject.

Not once did I top my class in terms of performance. I was never an overachiever, nor did I had my nose stuck in a book.

Most of my peers were focused on going to Ivy League and other top tier schools, but my primary concern was to get over high school. I was as laidback as they were competitive. I never really cared about getting consistent 7s or 6s in any of my tests.

High school was a place of turmoil and chaos. I was one of the many who were hit with seniority. I never cared about excelling in my studies, but being in a highly competitive environment made me feel that I wasn't as smart as my peers.

High school was tough for me. I felt enormous pressure from my peers, parents and teachers alike.

In my junior year, my condition took a turn for the worse that my teachers and parents had to advise me to get a psychological evaluation in Singapore.

My session with the psychologist took about three hours. I expressed myself, elaborating how school life had taken its toll on me both emotionally and physically. I explained the pressures of trying to meet the expectations for myself and my parents.

I was diagnosed for learning difficulties, and after all the tests -puzzle-solving, memory, auditory comprehension and so forth,- I was informed that I have ADHD.

I did regular check-in sessions with my counselor, who kept track of my progress. Over time I did better and better, but there indeed were days where I didn't do exceptionally well.

Despite the trials and tribulations, I always found a way to keep going and smile my troubles away.

With that said, I still did the best I could and actually ended up performing beyond my expectations.

Amidst all the chaos, I found a passion for the world of fashion, which finally brought happiness into my life.

For as long as I can remember, I always had a love for fashion. The thought of getting new clothes or shoes still excites me.

I remember the time when my mom brought me my first pair of Moschino loafers. They had white and black stripes at the front with engraved silver plate. I remember wearing this every day.

Fashion brings out the creative side in me because it gives me a sense of freedom - to know that I can dress the way I want - in a world where everything is controlled by a set of rules. In fashion there are no rules; a value that I like. As you can probably tell, I don’t do well in a controlled environment.

My close friends were also instrumental in helping me keep things together. Without them, I would have lost my way, not to mention the fact that they have helped me become a better person.

Above everything, it was my family that played the most significant role.

My parents have been wonderful in supporting my life choices and encouraging me to work hard to become independent. They were there for me when I was at my lowest. They have been a pillar of love and hope all along.

This is not to say that my relationship with them has always been perfect. I have had my share of mistakes, which caused a rift and dispute between them. We disagreed on many things. I've disappointed them countless times.

I'm beyond blessed and lucky to have been raised by two loving parents and siblings. My opportunities, such as traveling the world and getting a proper education, wouldn't have been possible without them.

I know for a fact that raising five kids wasn't always easy for my parents.

My father came from a prominent family, but worked hard and expanded the family business and continues to do so to provide us with what he thinks we deserve, and that means the best. My mother raised us to be wise, respectful and independent men and women.

In this regard, I can honestly say that my family is the most essential part of my life and is the reason why I am the way I am today.

I credit them for molding me into the person I am today, something that I am proud of and grateful for.