My finger hovers over the “Confirm Booking” button on my computer. Four economy seats to Jakarta, totalling RM2,400. I’ll redeem some points and pay the rest in cash.

I do the mental maths one more time, checking my savings account, my credit card limit, and my upcoming bills. Then it sinks in, I can actually afford this.

Not in a “I’ll figure it out later” way, or by cutting back on meals for the next two months, but comfortably. 

My cousins in Jakarta have visited Malaysia countless times over the years. Now, for the first time, we’re going to them.

My Parents’ Debt

Growing up, money in our house was never loud. No shouting, no dramatic fights.

It was being the only kid who didn’t go on the Zoo Negara school trip. Not because my parents didn’t want me to go, but because RM20 was RM20. And RM20 meant something when you were already underwater.

When the phone rang, I never knew which bank it was. My younger sister and I just knew to be quiet and not to ask for anything when my dad’s face tightened like that.

My dad wasn’t irresponsible. He worked hard. But somewhere along the way, credit cards became lifelines.

He would take a cash advance from one card to pay the minimum on another. Balance transfers to buy one more month of breathing room.

My mom worked full time too. But between the debt payments, the bills, and the endless financial holes that needed plugging, her money evaporated before she could even think about it. 

I still remember watching my mother’s perfume bottle slowly empty. The one she actually liked, not the cheap backup. She used it sparingly, stretching it out for months longer than she should have. She wouldn’t replace it since there were always bills. Always something more important to pay.

The bottle stayed empty.

What I Did Differently

I inherited my parents’ fear around money. The kind that makes you double-check your bank balance before buying anything and second-guess unnecessary spending.

But I also inherited a clearer idea of what not to do.

When I applied for my first credit card, I took my time. Three weeks of proper research. I compared cashback rates, annual fees, petrol rebates, and rewards programmes. My friends thought I was overthinking it.

But I had seen what happens when you don’t understand the tool you’re using. 

So, I studied and I chose carefully. I learned to treat debt as a tool I could manage, not a quick fix for problems I didn’t fully understand.

Now, my credit card works for me. Cashback on groceries, points for petrol, perks for travel bookings. And every month, it gets paid off in full.

I’m not debt-free. I have a car loan, but it’s necessary and manageable. I chose it after comparing interest rates from four different banks. I also have PTPTN, and I’m tackling it, paying more than the minimum whenever I can.

The difference, I think, is that I chose these debts, not the other way round. I know exactly what I’m paying, why I’m paying it, and when it’ll be paid off.

Four Seats To Jakarta

I click “Confirm Booking.”

My parents couldn’t take us on holidays much when we were growing up. Now I’m taking them.

I’m not rich. I still think twice before buying new clothes and I still feel a tiny spike of anxiety when my credit card statement arrives, even though I know I can pay it.

But I can book flights without my world falling apart. I can get my mom the perfume she likes. I can say yes to RM20 without calculating what else has to be sacrificed.

Not because I’m rich, but because I understand my money.

I watch the confirmation email arrive. Flight details. Booking reference. Payment receipt. 

We’re going to Jakarta!

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