If someone had told me a few years ago that I’d grow to love a quiet place, I would’ve laughed. Back in 2020, my family and I moved from Depok to a minimalist house in Sentul, Bogor. Sentul, this tranquil little town built by private developers, felt like a completely different world—quiet, still, and almost unnerving to someone like me.
Though Sentul is technically part of Greater Jakarta (Jabodetabek), it’s nothing like the busy, chaotic energy of metropolitan life. People here live privately, mind their own business, and keep to themselves. At the time, my 20-year-old self hated every bit of it.
I’ve always struggled with big changes, and leaving Depok was one of the hardest. Depok wasn’t the safest city, but it was my home. My university years were there—those vibrant, youthful days filled with friends, student organizations, and countless memories. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine.
My College Years
University was where I found myself. I wasn’t chasing academic perfection, but I thrived in communities and friendships. My college years were all about people—meeting them, learning from them, and growing together. Some of my closest friends have gone on to achieve incredible things—pursuing degrees abroad, starting companies, or even stepping into politics.
But those years weren’t without struggles. When COVID-19 hit in early 2020, everything changed. Classes moved online, and the world seemed to shut down overnight. Isolation crept in, and for someone like me—who thrived on connection—it was devastating.
The lockdowns were suffocating. The first confirmed case in Indonesia was from Depok, tied to my university. It was surreal. Life felt like it was spiraling, and I couldn’t escape. Friends became distant, conflicts were left unresolved, and I felt stuck—physically and emotionally.
Breaking Point
Moving to Sentul only made things worse. I was in a new house, in an unfamiliar neighborhood, and I felt completely out of place. My parents tried to help in their own ways. My mom, a devoted Catholic, leaned on faith, while my dad believed I needed to learn from my struggles. But I felt like neither approach could reach me, so I just felt angry and lost.
There were nights I overheard my mom crying, praying for me to find my joy again. She feared my darkest thoughts, and honestly, so did I. My dad, on the other hand, stayed silent—letting me lash out and vent my frustrations, even when I deeply regretted my words later.
Desperate for a change, I decided to leave. Bali became my escape plan—a chance to start over and find myself again.
The Escape to Bali
I packed my bags and left, determined to find a version of myself I had lost. My parents were hesitant—who wouldn’t be? Their daughter, struggling with her mental health, was leaving for a place far away. But I convinced them that this was what I needed.
Bali was everything I hoped it would be. I made friends, explored the island, and even fell in love. For a while, I felt alive again. But life has a way of humbling us. That relationship ended, leaving me heartbroken and re-questioning everything. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents, especially since they were already supporting me by allowing me to travel wherever I wanted for the sake of my happiness. I couldn’t risk my dad’s health by letting him know how much I was struggling. All he ever wanted was for me, his only daughter, to be happy, so he let me choose whatever I thought would help me enjoy life again. But as it turned out, my decision wasn’t always right—in fact, it became the worst decision I had ever made.
With nowhere else to go, I returned to Sentul—a place I once hated but now felt like my only refuge.
Returning Home
Coming back wasn’t easy. Sentul was still quiet, but this time, it didn’t feel as suffocating. I became very distant to anybody else, except my dad who spent his retirement days at our house alone.
My dad and I slowly began to spend more time together. We talked—really talked—and shared moments I’ll treasure forever. He listened our political thoughts conversation so well and I knew he enjoyed the quality time that shared with me. Something that we rarely did back then before I escaped to Bali. For the first time, I felt like I truly understood him.
But life shifted again, as it always does. In August 2023, my dad passed away. Just as I was starting to reconnect with him, he was gone. His death left a void I couldn’t fill. He left me nothing but more sadness because I thought everything started to become better after my broken-hearted phase, yet my father's death just making my pain worse.
Finding Peace in Solitude
My thought: just as I began to enjoy my life in Sentul, spending precious moments with my papa, he was gone forever. Losing him made everything so much harder to bear, especially after feeling abandoned by so many others before. I started to believe I might never experience love again.
I felt unworthy of being loved or cared for by those closest to me, convinced that everyone would eventually leave—either by choice or by fate. All I knew was that I had to keep moving forward, forcing myself to continue living while ignoring the struggles that came with it.
The process was anything but easy for me. I spent my days alone at home, with the house feeling emptier than ever. We were all trying to adjust to life without my father while struggling to return to our daily routines. My mom went back to work, my brothers focused on their own pursuits, and I spent my days working from home, knowing that my dad was no longer there to sit in front of the television, watching his favorite YouTube channels.
Sometimes, I would close my eyes and imagine him still there, sitting in the same spot in the living room where I last saw him. It was the only way to feel his presence again, even if just for a fleeting moment.
But something unexpected happened—I started to find comfort in the quiet.
Now, as I often live alone at home while my family members are busy with their schedules, I’ve grown accustomed to it. I’ve started to enjoy the quiet moments I have here in Sentul. This solitude has led me to have deeper conversations with myself, giving me more time to reflect and make thoughtful decisions.
My neighborhood hasn’t changed much—we’ve always had minimal interaction. However, I recently adopted a dog and named her Joplin, after my older dog from Bali. Sometimes, I take Joplin for morning walks around the residential area. During these walks, some of my neighbors, who also have dogs, would greet me and introduce their pets. Gradually, I’ve started getting to know the neighborhood better, as our pets have created a connection between us.
The town I once despised started to feel like home.
Healing and Growth
It’s funny how I’ve started to truly enjoy my life in this town. Over time, I’ve slowly transformed into the person I am today. Looking back, it’s hard to believe how frustrated and lost I once felt. But now, I can confidently say I’ve become more stable and resilient in facing life’s challenges.
One of the most significant changes is that I’ve started connecting with new people from diverse backgrounds. I’ve built meaningful friendships and relationships while learning to balance my time for myself. In the past, I used to pour all my energy into loving someone, only to be left heartbroken. But now, I’ve learned to love others just enough while prioritizing self-love. I’m fortunate to be with someone emotionally stable and grounded, which has brought comfort and maturity to our relationship, even as we navigate inevitable hardships. With him, I’ve found peace.
It’s amazing how much life can change in just 3–4 years. Now, at 25, I feel like I’ve grown into a more mature and thoughtful person. People often talk about a “quarter-life crisis,” but for me, this age has been a turning point, recharging me with positivity and a renewed sense of self after the struggles I’ve endured.
I wouldn’t necessarily say my life is perfect—after all, who knows what’s coming next? But I can say with confidence that I’ve become more stable, independent, and wiser. I’ve learned to enjoy any place I find myself in, whether it’s bustling with people or quiet and serene. I can manage my thoughts, adapt to situations, and bring peace to my mind, soul, and heart. I’m no longer afraid of being left behind because I’ve realized that life is about phases—sometimes you leave others behind in their own stories, too.
Embracing The Shifts
Life changes and shifts so quickly, often turning everything you’re used to upside down in an instant. I used to hate quiet places, but now I find joy in their stillness. It’s all part of the journey of growth—becoming mature and wiser, and perceiving the world in new ways. Change is a natural process that shapes us into better versions of ourselves. It doesn’t mean losing our authenticity; rather, it’s about embracing a new perspective inspired by past experiences.
The process of self-growth can be painful, especially when we’re forced to confront big traumas. But we can’t let that pain turn into despair. One day, you’ll look out the window and imagine yourself as a butterfly, free to fly wherever you want, without questioning if you belong. That freedom is yours to claim—a state of mind where you can truly thrive.
And while life isn’t perfect and I might still make mistakes, I finally feel loved by the people around me, and that’s enough. People will come and go, but never overlook those who choose to stay.
With love,
Eugenia
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