I am a 45-year-old lecturer and a mother of four. For twenty years, I struggled in three important areas of life: prosperity, relationships, and faith. I feel grateful as I remember the moment when I was at my lowest, I found Bunda Arsaningsih. She helped me grow as a person when there was no one left to look at me or lend a hand. Looking back, I wish I had spent more time getting to know myself when I was younger instead of chasing a doctorate that did not bring me peace. Still, since thinking about the past does not help, I choose to be thankful for finally finding real happiness with God.
Since marrying in 2001, I felt like a human ATM. Since I was considered having steady jobs, relatives and friends always turned to us for money. Over the years, I had to do what my parents-in-law did: taking care of our extended family's basic needs, paying for our siblings' and their children's schooling, helping relatives with their businesses, paying off debts, covering wedding costs, paying cousins' rent, and even paying for their helpers. I even had to pay for office costs caused by my husband’s coworkers' mistakes. Even now, I am still paying off other people’s bank debts. It all started with a good intention: a real wish to help others.
My money problems were at their worst during my PhD studies in Australia. When we arrived in Sydney, the father of my children could not find a job. It took him a year to get work as a campus cleaner. Life felt very hard; my husband had never done cleaning work before. Even though we worked very hard, our money disappeared quickly. Besides paying rent and living costs in another country, we still had to send money to Indonesia for our parents, pay the mortgage, and help our relatives. My government scholarship was also unreliable, covering only 6 out of the 8 semesters I needed. My request for more time was turned down for no clear reason. In the end, I had to borrow money from my office and friends just to get by and pay for school. The total amount I borrowed could have bought a house!
My relationships began to tear apart when I reached a point where I could no longer lend money to friends and relatives. Some were disappointed; a few even cursed me, saying I would feel the bitterness of having nothing. I kept silent—I couldn't explain that my own finances were deep in the red. I became the subject of gossip among my peers because of my debts, and I eventually withdrew from social and religious gatherings.
My studies were falling apart. My relationship with one of my supervisors was very unhealthy. He always put down my abilities, said my research was not good enough, and blamed me for "not being focused" because I brought my family. We argued at every meeting, even though I worked 16 hours a day at the office, stayed on campus on weekends, and slept only 2 to 3 hours a night. For four years, my body and mind got worse and worse.
To survive, I worked as a morning cleaner from 3:00 AM to 7:00 AM. After work, I cooked and cleaned at home before heading to campus at 9:00 AM. As my problems mounted, I found myself protesting to God, asking why these terrible things were happening to me. I had always yielded to others and helped the needy, almost to the point of sacrificing myself entirely. Yet God felt absent when I fell. In 2014, I stopped praying, stopped fasting for Ramadan, and drifted toward atheism. I felt that God was unfair. I had always been a dutiful daughter—choosing my husband based on my mother’s wishes, being a submissive daughter-in-law and wife, giving so much for others’ happiness.
The pain of that era was extraordinary. Every day, I cried silently; I felt suffocated and wanted to die. I was constantly angry, sometimes lashing out at my children. For over a decade, I carried this misery alone because my husband seemed indifferent to our financial crisis, preferring to spend time with his friends. I even felt resentment toward my late mother, asking: "Mom, you said if I married him, I’d be happy. The reality is you were wrong; you led me into ruin."
By 2015, I felt like I was losing my mind. I would suddenly scream, scaring my children, and my nights were filled with loud nightmares. My supervisor sent me to a campus counsellor, where I tried hypnotherapy. I went every month until the therapist started giving me calming medicine. I stopped then, afraid I would go crazy. Somehow, I still finished my PhD at a top Australian university.
Going back to Surabaya did not solve my problems. My husband had trouble finding a job again. With four children to feed and send to school, we survived only by taking on more debt. My relationships at home and at work got worse. I felt my siblings disliked me, even after all the years we helped them. At work, I felt unappreciated, blamed by the bosses, and talked about behind my back. I took out all my built-up anger and sadness on my children. Not wanting to make home a "hell" for them, I looked for help again. From 2017 to 2019, I tried different hypnotherapy sessions and healing workshops, but I still felt uneasy inside.
A new turning point emerged in October 2019. When a famous motivator’s comment about reincarnation piqued my curiosity, I began searching for answers. I soon found a YouTube video titled Karma and Reincarnation by Bunda Arsaningsih, which resonated deeply. Eager for more, I watched all her videos. By February 2020, I attended a Soul Reflection book discussion in Surabaya. Within two minutes of sitting down, my heart raced as I read this line:
"High educational attainment does not guarantee success in facing life. In reality, there is no guarantee that an expert professor will succeed in navigating the process of life." (Arsaningsih, 2016:72)
The universe seemed to understand my chaos. Despite reaching the pinnacle of formal education, I still didn't know how to solve my life's problems.
When Bunda Arsaningsih asked for volunteers, I ran to the front. I was shocked when she told me that my "anger radiation" reached 40 kilometres and that I was carrying decades of disappointment, especially toward my late mother. I burst into tears, realising I had been hauling this heavy luggage for so long. Bunda explained that the key to solving problems is "Happy 10." My inner voice scoffed: "What is Happy 10? How can I be happy when my life is in ruins?"
Growing up in a traditional Javanese family, I was taught that happiness comes from obeying parents and helping others. For decades, I lived for others without knowing how to make myself happy.
After joining the Soul Meter Workshop (WSM), a new chapter started. On the first day, I felt a strong sense of God’s love, and I cried, thinking, Is this happiness? My problems are still here, but my heart feels calm. This was the beginning of learning a new way to live. The workshop helped me see my hidden anger, low self-worth, and tendency to pull away from others. I started talking to God more directly, making my prayers about letting go and being honest, rather than complaining. For example, when the husband used to trigger me, I would fight back. Now, when he yells, I stay silent and connect with God. I apologise and forgive him internally. I realised that everyone’s capacity is different, and I shouldn't force my perspective on others, even for their own good. I am amazed by my own calmness. I no longer blame God or external factors. Instead, I look inward. I’ve learned that if I always feel victimised, I will only attract more disappointment. As Bunda says, I must be happy to connect with God. With happiness, I can identify my overthinking and anger. Once I accept everything with an open heart and forgive, God provides the solutions.
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