http://www.kayatoastforthesoul.com/

Kaya Toast for the Soul, Singapore (2026)

01/09/2026

Strangely enough, one of the questions that comes up quite commonly in therapy is:

“Am I a narcissist?”

And sometimes I sit opposite someone and think...

What an interesting question to ask.

Because before we even try to answer it, I’m curious about something else.

Why are you asking?

The context matters.

---

There is a difference between:

“Everyone says I’m a narcissist, but I don’t think I am.”

and:

“I’m worried I’ve been hurting people. Am I a narcissist?”

The word might be the same.

But the question underneath can be very different.

Sometimes what I hear is guilt.

Sometimes shame.

Sometimes fear that they are secretly a bad person.

And sometimes someone has simply started noticing behaviours they no longer feel good about.

Because the truth is, we can hurt people without wanting to become someone who hurts people.

We can get defensive.

We can lash out.

We can act from hurt.

And yes, hurt people do sometimes hurt people.

But I think we forget the second half.

Hurt people can heal themselves too.

And healed people can become people who help others heal too.

---

So if you’ve been asking yourself:

“Am I a narcissist?”

Maybe ask alongside it:

“Why am I worried that I might be?”

“Is there something I want to change?”

“Who do I want to become from here?”

Because in therapy, we're more interested in what we can understand and change than in finding ONE frightening word to explain who you are.

And if you genuinely want to reflect, take responsibility, and learn another way of relating...

That matters.

Take care,
Hernping

💙

A little FYI too:

When we casually call someone a “narcissist”, we’re usually talking about narcissistic traits or behaviours.

That is not automatically the same as Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), which is a clinical diagnosis involving a persistent pattern across different areas of life.

So perhaps be a little careful with that label.

For yourself, and for other people too.

28/08/2026

Just so you know, by “place” I mean many things.

A relationship.

A friendship.

A workplace.

Even a group of people you once felt at home with.

And sometimes, when we keep feeling like our effort is never enough, the question may not be whether we need to try harder.

Maybe it’s whether this is still the right place for us.

--

Because in the wrong place, we can spend so much time proving ourselves.

Trying harder.

Explaining ourselves better.

Making ourselves smaller.

Becoming easier to love, easier to work with, easier to keep around.

And somehow, it still feels like we are not enough.

--

Of course, leaving is never that simple.

People say “just walk away” as though we can simply pack up our feelings and go.

We stay because something mattered.

Because there were good memories too.

Because we hoped things might change.

Because sometimes the familiar feels safer than the unknown.

--

I know I’ve stayed far too long in some places in my own life.

And strangely, I don’t think courage was always what finally made me leave.

Sometimes I was simply tired.

Given up.

But looking back, leaving was still one of the bravest and best things I’ve done.

Because perhaps I wasn’t only walking away.

I was walking towards something too.

Towards people and places where I didn’t have to work quite so hard to prove that I belonged.

Towards a life where I could be a little more myself.

And maybe that’s something worth thinking about today.

Not only:

“What should I walk away from?”

But also:

“What might I finally be able to walk towards?”

I hope you find somewhere you can be yourself too.

Take care,
Hernping

💙

27/08/2026

Sometimes things stop getting worse.

But that doesn't mean we immediately start feeling better.

The crisis might have passed.

The days of panic and anxiety and endless worrying might have eased.

The worst may feel like it's finally over.

But is it strange that even though things are seemingly "better"..

That it's hard to feel glad or happy about it?

---

A client and I were talking about this recently.

A lot had happened to her.

And when I say alot it's really alot.

Almost every aspect of her life had been disrupted

And finally, things were beginning to settle.

But she still felt low.

And with that came another feeling:

Guilt.

“I should be more grateful that things are getting better shouldn't I?"

But what happens when we don't?

--

Sometimes forced gratitude can become another painful thing we do to ourselves.

Because now we're not only hurting.

We're asking:

“What's wrong with me?”

“Why can't I be positive?”

“Am I just ungrateful?”

And maybe there doesn't need to be anything wrong with you.

Sometimes after carrying so much for so long, HOPE takes a little while to return.

Sometimes things can be getting better...

And you can still feel sad.

Both can be true at once.

We can notice what's going well without forcing ourselves to feel something we don't.

And perhaps we can start from whatever is actually here.

So don't punish yourself for already suffering, okay?

Let's take it step by step.

Grief hurts.

Take care,
Hernping

💙

16/08/2026

I think we are often thrown a very particular picture of what courage looks like.

Courage is persevering.

Courage is strong.

Courage is the hard thing.

Courage is pushing through when you want to give up.

And yes, I think all of those things can take tremendous courage.

But I wonder if we've lost sight of the other kinds of courage too.

Esp the quiet kind.

--

One of the most courageous things I've ever done was quit a very stable job.

I had no real plan.

No great next step waiting for me.

I just knew I couldn't keep walking down the same path anymore.

Because staying would have given me stability.

Probably progression too.

But I was miserable.

My mental health was declining, and the life I was building felt increasingly misaligned with who I was.

And perhaps, for me, courage wasn't going to be another year of perseverance.

Courage was stopping.

Courage was admitting:

“I don't want this anymore.”

And walking away without knowing exactly where I was going next.

--

Strangely, that decision created space.

Space to draw again.

To return to psychology and the therapy room.

To create things.

To start little initiatives that mattered to me.

And eventually, to build a ground-up movement that became our social enterprise IASH.SG 🇸🇬 today.

None of that was part of some grand plan when I left.

I just knew I was tired of going around the same cycle.

And I think that's why I've come to see courage a little differently.

Sometimes courage is continuing.

Sometimes courage is quitting.

Sometimes courage is saying:

“I'm tired.”

“I've tried.”

“I think I've given enough of myself to this.”

“This isn't for me anymore.”

There are people, places, dreams and paths that may once have meant everything to us.

And perhaps it takes its own kind of courage to realise when they no longer do.

So in case nobody has told you lately:

Courage has many faces.

And walking away can be one of them too.

Take care,
Hernping

💙

15/08/2026

Therapy doodles, part two.

This one coming from a awesome funny young man who was at the same time incredibly harsh towards himself.

And I think many of us know this voice.

The little inner critic that follows us around saying:

“You're going to mess this up.”

“You're not doing enough.”

“What's wrong with you?”

And most of the time, we don't really stop to talk to it.

We just hear it.

Believe it.

Feel lousy.

And carry on.

--

For this youth, this whale was so loud that he actually quit life for a few years now.

He recounted me saying that it felt like he spent everyday fighting this inner voice.

So one day, we did something different.

Where instead of fighting the whale, ignoring it, or trying to make it disappear...

We let this part of him speak.

I suggested to pick a soft toy, and he chose the whale.

In IFS therapy, we sometimes call this parts work.

There's an idea in IFS that I really like:

No bad parts.

Even the parts of us that seem harsh, critical or downright horrible often believe they're doing something useful.

So we got curious about the whale.

“What are you actually trying to do?”

And slowly, something became clearer.

The whale wasn't trying to drag the Boy underwater.

It was trying to stop him from drowning.

It wanted him to survive.

It had simply learnt a rather painful way of doing it.

And something funny happened as the Boy began listening to the whale more.

The whale got softer.

It didn't have to shout quite so loudly anymore.

Because perhaps, all this time, it had been thinking:

“Why aren't you listening to me?! This is important!”

Of course, listening doesn't mean it's right.

The Boy realised that too.

“If I did everything the whale told me to do, I'd probably never do anything.”

So perhaps there is another way.

Give the whale some space.

Hear what it's frightened of.

Acknowledge what it's trying to protect.

And then...

do what matters anyway.

Sometimes the parts of us that shout the loudest aren't trying to drown us.

They're desperately trying to keep us afloat.

Maybe they just need to learn a gentler way.

And so can you :)

Hernping

💙

11/08/2026

Yesterday, for some reason, I felt a little low.

Not quite depressed, not quite bored either.

Just a little... empty.

Which was strange because I actually had a really nice long weekend.

I rested.

Spent time with my wife.

We did a photoshoot with the dogs too (I somehow also gave myself a little heat stroke)

And overall, an all round nice weekend.

But yesterday afternoon, that feeling of emptiness appeared again.

And instead of immediately trying to get rid of it, I turned towards it as I've learnt to do.

And somehow found a little breakthrough

--

I asked my emptiness, “Why are you here again?”

And almost immediately, something in me answered:

“I want to do something exciting.”

“What?”, I asked.

“I don’t know. Something. Go out. Party. Make some mess.”

It genuinely had no idea too.

--

So I asked:

“Why?”

“Maybe it’ll make us feel alive again”, it said

So I challenged it a little.

“Aren't we feeling alive right now? Isn't this good?”

There was a pause, before it said:

“Yes.”

And strangely, something inside me settled.

Then this part seemed to ask me:

“So… what is this that we are feeling?”

And I thought about it, then suggested:

“Maybe this is peace. Do you think this is peace?”

And almost like the Boy in this post, this part of me seemed to wonder too.

Maybe it was.

Maybe this quietness was simply unfamiliar.

--

After that, I went for a run.

And I actually had a rather nice day.

I’ve been thinking about that little conversation since.

Sometimes when you’ve spent a long time around chaos, quiet can feel strangely empty.

When your mind is used to anticipating, worrying, fixing, reacting…

Peace can almost feel suspicious.

And perhaps sometimes we go searching for intensity simply because intensity feels familiar.

Maybe there are parts of us still learning what it feels like when nothing is wrong.

Still learning that quiet does not always mean something bad is about to happen.

Still learning that we do not need chaos to know we are alive.

You are allowed to have peace, okay?

Even if you are still learning how to recognise it.

Take care,
Hernping

💙

09/08/2026

I thought I might start a new doodle series on actual therapy sessions here (with consent ofc)

Little conversations that happen that somehow stay with me.

Because therapy can be serious.

But sometimes it can also be funny, creative, slightly ridiculous...

And very human too.

This first one came from a client who once told me:

“I don't think I deserve to take up space in therapy.”

So naturally, I asked:

“Okay... who does?”

And somehow, through this conversation, we accidentally created an imaginary scoring system for suffering.

Apparently there was a threshold.

Maybe a 6?

Or a 7?

An 8 definitely deserved therapy.

What does any of this mean? 😂

We didn't know either.

And eventually we both started laughing at how ridiculous our little scoring system had become.

But underneath the joke was something very real.

She genuinely believed her pain wasn't “bad enough”.

Even in group spaces, she would sometimes calculate how much space she deserved to take up.

Other people have it worse.

Maybe I should talk less.

Maybe they need the space more than I do.

And I can't tell you how often I hear different versions of this.

So one day I asked her:

“If someone was only a 3 on our completely made-up suffering scale, would they deserve someone to talk to?”

“Of course.”

No hesitation.

So... why not you?

And I think that's where our silly little scoring system became meaningful.

Because sometimes we offer other people a kindness that somehow disappears when we turn towards ourselves.

Someone else's pain doesn't need to be catastrophic before we take it seriously.

Yet somehow ours needs to pass an entrance exam.

Maybe you've done this too.

Compared, ranked.

Told yourself someone else has it worse.

But pain is such a personal thing.

Something one person carries easily might feel incredibly heavy to another.

And whatever number you've given yourself on that imaginary scale...

You don't have to wait until you're falling apart.

You don't have to prove that you're suffering enough.

If something hurts,

I think that's already worth talking about okay?

Take care,
Hernping

💙

P. S. To N - you rock!

04/08/2026

I see this so often in therapy.

People feeling stuck because life has become one long chase towards "what's next."

First, it's getting good grades.

Then the right school.

Then a good job.

Then the promotion.

Then earning enough to finally feel free.

Each one carrying the same quiet promise:

"Maybe after this, I'll finally be happy."

But sometimes, in the quieter moments, another voice begins to speak.

"I'm exhausted."

"When does my life actually begin?"

And I wonder if this is where delayed gratification slowly becomes delayed living.

---

Of course, goals matter.

Some things genuinely take time.

Some sacrifices are necessary.

But I also wonder how often we become so focused on building a future life that we slowly disappear from the one we're already living.

We'll for me, I stayed in a job I hated for three years because I thought:

"If I can just do this for ten years, maybe I'll finally have enough to be free."

But after a while, I started wondering what those years were costing me.

My freedom.

My happiness.

Myself.

And strangely, the finish line kept moving anyway.

The amount I needed became larger.

The waiting became longer.

The life I imagined always seemed to exist somewhere further ahead.

---

Lately, I've been thinking about goals and values.

Goals tell us where we hope to arrive.

Values are how we choose to live while we're getting there.

Perhaps both matter.

Because one gives us direction.

The other reminds us not to postpone ourselves along the way.

So maybe these are the questions I'm sitting with tonight.

What is all this waiting costing me now?

And is there any small part of the life I'm waiting for...

that I can begin living today?

Take care,

Hernping

💙

29/07/2026

This is a post I shared a long time ago.

And I decided to make a new drawing for it tonight, and somehow it got me thinking about this journey again.

The little drawings.

The mental health work.

Some of the books I've been enjoying writing.

And how all of this actually began.

For those of you who do not know me very well, I suppose this is a little of the origin story of Kaya Toast for the Soul.

---

It has been many years since I was diagnosed with depression.

At the time, I was working in a job I really, really disliked.

I remember feeling as though life had become incredibly small.

I was doing what I thought I was supposed to do, but I could not shake the feeling that something in me was slowly disappearing.

Life felt meaningless.

And I think, in some ways, I had lost myself for quite a long time before I even realised it.

--

When I started Kaya Toast for the Soul, it was never really about followers.

I wasn't running a social enterprise back then either.

I just wanted to do something that felt like me again.

To draw again like I used to do as a kid.

To write about things that actually mattered to me.

To stop pretending that I did not care about the things I cared about.

It all started as a little blog.

Then Kaya appeared.

Then the Boy.

And slowly, this became a place where I could share parts of my own mental health journey, while other people shared parts of theirs with me too.

---

Looking back, I think this has been a long journey of unbecoming.

Letting go of some of the things life, society and other people told me I needed to be.

And slowly returning to the parts of myself I had left behind.

The part that likes to play.

The part that likes making silly little drawings.

Nowadays the part of me that has always enjoyed writing too.

And tonight, I also wanted to share a new book I have written.

In many ways, it feels like another origin story for Kaya Toast for the Soul.

I will share more about it in my stories tonight, so please have a look if you would like to know more okay?

Thank you for being here :)

I hope you come home to yourself too.

Take care,
Hernping

🙏

21/07/2026

Why is it so hard to let go?

I can't tell you how often this comes up in therapy.

Someone leaves a relationship they spent years building.

Someone walks away from a job they genuinely loved because one person made it unbearable.

Someone keeps replaying university, old friendships, or decisions they wish they had never made.

And after all that, they ask me:

"Why am I still thinking about this?"

"Why can't I just move on?"

I wonder if you've ever asked yourself that too.

Because the world keeps telling us to "let it go."

As though letting go were simply a decision.

But I don't think our minds work that way.

Our minds don't keep returning to the past because they enjoy suffering.

They keep returning because they are trying to make sense of what happened.

Trying to understand it.

Trying to learn from it.

Trying to make sure it never happens again.

In many ways, your mind isn't holding on to hurt.

It's holding on to protect you.

And maybe that's why it feels so difficult.

Because there is a part of you that is still upset.

Still frightened.

Still trying to understand how something that mattered so much could hurt so deeply.

So before you ask yourself to let go,

perhaps begin somewhere gentler.

Can you first acknowledge the part of you that is still trying to protect you?

Can you thank it for caring?

Can you let it know that you understand why it keeps looking backwards?

And perhaps, slowly, another realisation begins to emerge.

Not everything that happened needs to make sense.

Sometimes people are unkind.

Sometimes relationships end without the closure we hoped for.

Sometimes good jobs are ruined by unhealthy people.

Sometimes life is simply unfair.

And maybe healing is not always making sense of the past.

Maybe healing is also being able to say:

"I deserved better than what happened."

Sometimes that is enough to begin letting go.

Take care,

Hernping

💙

Kaya Toast for the Soul

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