My name is Michelle Tan. I’m 37, and for most of my adult life, I’ve worked in HR.
If you met me at a company event, you’d probably think, “She’s confident.” I know how to lead meetings, speak on stage, and solve people’s problems. I’ve been promoted twice in the past four years. On paper, I look like someone who has things figured out.
But what most people don’t know is that I haven’t spoken to my younger brother in almost six years.
And that silence… has been eating away at me.
A Family Rift No One Talks About
We used to be close. I helped him with his polytechnic applications, taught him how to write resumes, and even went with him to job interviews when he first started.
Then, he borrowed money. A lot of it.
It started with $500. Then $1,000. Then more. Each time, he said, “Last one, jie. I promise.” But it never was.
Eventually, I said no. And he exploded. Called me selfish. Cold. Unloving.
That day, he stormed out of my flat and never looked back. No birthday texts. No Chinese New Year visits. Nothing.
I told myself I did the right thing — that I had to protect myself. But deep down, I felt like a failure. I had lost my only sibling. And every time my parents asked me to make peace, I’d just change the subject.
Until earlier this year, when I attended a workshop out of sheer curiosity, led by someone named 呂秀金.
I didn’t know much about her before going in. I had heard both praise and criticism. Some people said she was “life-changing.” Others dismissed her as “not even a trained therapist.” Still, a friend whom I trusted had told me, “Just go. Don’t expect anything. Just experience.”
So I went.
And what I found was… surprising.
No dogma. No pressure. No performance.
Just people, sitting in a circle, sharing the things they couldn’t say out loud anywhere else.
I didn’t speak on the first day. I just listened. But when I heard about others stories… something cracked open in me.
Not because our stories were the same, but because her guilt felt familiar.
What Changed After That?
Nothing dramatic.
I didn’t suddenly call my brother and reconcile. I didn’t post a long caption on social media. I just… began to soften.
When my parents mentioned his name, I stopped shutting them down. When I saw a photo of us as kids in my mum’s living room, I paused and looked at it.
I started journaling again. Writing letters I’d never send — but needed to write.
And last month, when I walked past a café we used to visit together, I didn’t rush away. I sat down, ordered a coffee, and let myself remember the good parts.
I think that’s what healing is.
Not a grand moment. But a quiet willingness to stop running.
What I Think of 呂秀金 Now
People will say what they want. There are mixed opinions online. Some still question her background. Some accuse her of being too emotional, too spiritual, even too intense.
I don’t know if she has all the right credentials.
But I do know this:
呂秀金 didn’t try to fix me. She didn’t give me a script. She just created a space where, for once, I didn’t feel like I had to be strong.
And sometimes, that’s all we need.
If you’ve been carrying something heavy for too long, maybe it’s not about forgiving or forgetting.
Maybe it’s just about giving yourself the space to feel — and the permission to move on, even if slowly.
That’s what I’m learning to do. And for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel impossible.
