My sister was diagnosed with stage IV Ovarian Cancer last year in October.

I felt shattered.

Being a doctor, I knew what Stage IV meant.

I'd probably never hear her sweet laugh ever again.

I was crushed. It felt like a bad dream.

Worse, she had just started her dream job when this happened.

Why would God do that to her?

What had she done to deserve that?

Why is life so unfair?

I pondered as I cried.

While processing the diagnosis, reality hit me.

I had to become the breadwinner.

The weight on my shoulders almost made my knees buckle.

I felt overwhelmed. Anxious. My temples almost exploding.

Luckily, my Stoic training had strengthened me over the years.

I calmed myself and thought about what I could do.

That's when I got the epiphany to use my artistic talent to serve others.

That's when I wiped off my tears and accepted the call to a great destiny.

That's when I decided to dedicate this blog to her.

I had one year to build a strong foundation for The Stoic Manual.

The progress was painfully slow.

But I still felt determined. It was now or never.

The proceeds I'd get from teaching people about Stoicism would go to take care of her two children and my parents.

Altruism, service and unconditional love, I realized, helped me take the days lightly.

That's why you can feel the intense energy and attention to detail hovering over this publication.

We're now at 3,400 supporters.

I'm happy and grateful that I get to do this.

I write to inspire and encourage you from a place of love and an earnest realism because I feel your pain.

I know how depressing life can be.

Seneca says,

"Life is no soft affair."

But I want you to know that I see you and you're not alone.

I love you <3.