Wrapping up 2006 (Part 2)

Family Ties
(Stuff I worked on to improve myself as a mother and a daughter)

I began the year in anxious anticipation. My only son was starting school. This was significant because I felt it was a major milestone, a new social setting. This will be a big part of his life for the next eleven or twelve years. In retrospect, my anxiety was not in his ability to adjust, but more of mine. Worrying is something I do, partly out of habit, but maternal instincts often include worry in big portions. But thrived he did, he made new friends and learnt new things. His handwriting became more practised and he read much more fluently, particularly in English. I found that his strength was Maths but he was often dismayed (yes, for a seven year old child) at his lack of artistic talents. He did okay during his final exams, an improvement compared to his mid-year. But I sense his frustration when he finds certain things hard to grasp. And I feel I could always do more in terms of tutoring him with his homework.

My mother.. I suppose all daughters share a love-hate relationship with their mothers. Love, for all the right reasons. Hate, mostly due to the daughter’s frustration. My mother can be highly critical sometimes. Her judgmental comments suck out the life out of me. At our worst moments, she reduces me to an insecure teen, even as I am now in my thirties, stirring pubescent rebellion from the get go. I hated how she couldn’t hold her tongue when it comes to her opinions of me. I hated how she hardly ever made it easy for me. I hated how she left us, for whatever reasons she felt justified, to go working thousands of miles away, and left me in charge.

But in our best moments, she was always my source for joy and comfort. She shared my erratic sense of humour, finding things comical in the oddest places. I realized we got along when she recognized my maturity, when what I said held weight, when she is able to appreciate how I’ve grown. My most recent of this best moments was our shopping trip before she went back to Saudi. We scoured the entire Petaling Street for souvenirs, both amazed at how well the day went. We had lunch together and we talked. She shared her thoughts about the work-in-progress that was our house. She shared her annoyance mainly where my dad was concerned, mostly minor irritations, not unlike the squabbles of an other married couple (as I write this, it strikes me as almost weird, how I’m able to categorize my parents akin to any other married couple).

So my mental preparation for my mum’s return then, was mainly about how I was going to manage my expectations. I do this because I didn’t want to get disappointed. This despite the fact that she can disappoint me still, regardless of whichever way I try to perceive it. But perhaps in that recognition, I allowed her to be human. I gave her room to err and I put away my own mental snapshots of what she should have been. Again I am reminded, just how dangerous things accompanied by the phrase “should” could potentially be.

Once I was able to do that, I found that we had more ups than downs. I was able to enjoy her company more, instead of those moments validating my deflated expectations. When I allowed my mother to be human, in my eyes, we both became more like equals and she no longer occupied that pedestal in my head which is often weighted down by my own expectations.

My father.. is my continual source of inspiration. We share many common interests and I believe we’ve outgrown that phase where our moments together were accompanied by awkward silence. I believe we’re finally on the same wavelength now, to the point that I can tell his mood quite accurately just by observing his mannerisms. Sometimes his low points pass without much fuss, other times he might let me in on what exactly it was that bothered him so. My relationship with my father is one of the best things about being a boomerang child. Somehow, I feel like I’ve come full circle where this relationship is concerned.

Wrapping up 2006 (Part 1)

The year 2006 is ending in a few days. Time sure flies, not necessarily when one is having fun. I can’t help but wonder what I’ve been up to the whole year. Thank goodness for 43Things, my haphazard journaling effort need not be an excuse. So I’ve been reviewing my list of completed things, hoping to look back with some satisfaction. I guess I had an amazing year nonetheless. Of course, it could always get better. But if I went down that path, I know I might invite regret. So let’s not go there..

I took the liberty of categorizing my completed goals. Can’t help it, my craving for structure and logic demand that I attempt this exercise in my typical organized fashion. Here goes..

Personal Development
(Stuff I attempted/accomplished with the hope of becoming a better me)

Throughout the year, there were the usual ups and downs. I still struggled with some form of depression, battled insomnia (particularly weekends) and dug deep to figure out, “What the hell is wrong with me?”. Turns out I’m normal, no different from probably a few billion other people. Life is like that, it’s meant to be hard. This was a hard truth for me to swallow, but once I accepted it, I no longer felt the need to wallow too much in self-pity. I still looked inwardly and analyze things, past actions and at times, take too long to make a decision. But I believe I’m much better at biting the bullet while controlling my neurotic tendencies to anticipate the worst. I still worry, but I do it less now. Acceptance is a very powerful thing. I initially mistook it as surrender, like giving up or making compromises. That was tough for me since I’ve always believed that I had to excel at everything. But I learned that I have to let go and give up on certain things, ideas even certain people, in order to make room for other worthy things, ideas and people in my life. So that’s what I did. I gave up on a lot of things, even letting go some of my dreams too. Well, maybe not entirely, but I realized that it’s OK to put those dreams away and give myself time. I learned to accept that I am not able to control quite a lot of things, but I can control my perception. And while I still have that, I am not a victim, I can make choices.. right ones I hope, choices that resonate well with my principles and values.

Revisiting my 43Things list, I learned to practise delayed gratification.. not easy, especially when I let myself go (just one more episode of GA, then I’m done.. yeah, right!). I decided I didn’t have many regrets and that everything is a learning opportunity. I want to be free from emotional cancers, but sometimes I let myself be swayed (must work harder at keeping my mouth shut). I figured out how to tackle my Machiavellian colleague and saw him for what he truly was (after everything is said and done, I still consider him a friend). Paid off my credit card but it’s tough to maintain a zero balance, especially when savings are low and a major payment is due (must work harder at living within my means!).

On the romance department, I indulged in the odd crush every now and then. But all of them went nowhere, partly perhaps coz I wouldn’t let them. I’m much more cautious these days, less likely to take crazy chances like before. I figured it’s OK to feel certain things, but to let that feeling consume you is like inviting trouble to your front door. Let’s just say my choices in men are either unrealistic or downright dodgy.. so the fact that I have nothing much to say here is probably not entirely a bad thing. Despite that I remain hopeful. I don’t want to be cynical and continually curse my fate. I accept that certain things are best left to fate. Serendipity is a new concept for me but it’s teaching me to be patient, with myself, those around me and the cards I’m dealt with. I guess when the time comes, I will know it. When my heart tells me so, it will be someone worth waiting for.

To be continued…

The surrendered singleton.. or not

It finally dawned on me tonight that I might live the rest of my life single. That I may have to stay celibate until I’m old enough not to want to do it anymore (or lose the ability, whichever comes first). It sounds so definite, and some folks might say I’m just being whiny and negative. But I’m not, it feels real and I actually have facts or at least some rationale to support this notion.

First and foremost, I don’t go out and meet people. In fact, meeting new people is actually quite scary to me. I am one of those people who gives out scary vibes within the first five minutes of introduction. That is mainly cause I size people up myself and I kinda know what they’re like and whether they’re actually worth knowing. Of course I’ve made some erratic judgment call, which supports this notion all the more. If I could have my way, I’d rather spend time with people I already know. People who get my sarcastic ways, people who are unafraid of calling my bluff, people who actually exist in a handful count.

Secondly, when I do meet people, I can get very intense. When I meet people whom I do like, I tend to wanna develop the relationship for a bit, maybe hang out after work and do stuff of common interest. If things get really great, I can get a bit giddy with schoolgirl excitement. It’s quite a shock really to some folks who spend most of their working hours with me. Suddenly I morph into another creature who is a 180-degree contrast to what I typically am.. sensible, solid, reliable and serious. This other creature is able to swear like a sailor, drive like a speed demon, listen to music which are not parent-friendly and doesn’t give a crap if tomorrow never comes. Well, that last bit.. I’m stretching it, but the earlier parts are entirely true. Especially if you’re driving 60km/h during rush hour and I just happen to be driving right behind you.

Thirdly, I am truly convinced that my cynic quotient goes up bit by bit everyday. Perhaps there’s a correlation between how long I’ve been single and this particular cynical streak. It’s all biological people, nothing to be ashamed of in admitting this. But hormonal imbalances aside, I doubt I’ll find The One. As each day passes by, I believe in him less and less. And even if he does exists, I seriously can’t be expected to waste precious time waiting around like that. So no more saving the perfect moment until I find The One. I’m sure I can enjoy what the world has to offer without a man in tow. Though I still need male companionship for attending rock concerts (classical ones I can handle, thank you). Unless I can find a few other female friends who worship Muse and MCR like I do.

Unlike men who become more eligible as they get older (but only if your wallet gets thicker), us girls have a harder time. It’s a perfectly negative correlation in fact. The truth is, as guys grow older, they prefer younger women. Call it as eye-candy, trophy wife or whatever else, men feel good when they have a pretty young thing in tow. I suspect it reaffirms their virility and their Hugh Hefner-like aspirations. Again, since I am such a rational person tonight, I don’t fault this logic one bit. On the other hand, it becomes harder for single (thirty-something) girls to score a decent man. And please don’t mention staying fit and taking better care of ourselves, while it is perfectly acceptable on grounds of health, those who can pull a Demi-Ashton is in a very small minority, if any.

So I resigned myself to this fate tonight. Not exactly in meek surrender, but more of a dignified acceptance if you will. Plus I needed a reality check to keep my head in the right place. Unfortunately, of late I have discovered several male species of interest, but when analyzed against the above theories, I know my chances are slim. Now don’t tell me to seize the moment (or the guy for that matter), I’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime. It’s all fun and games until someone accidentally reads your text messages. Okay, that’s all I’m saying for now.

Before I end this, I must state a disclaimer whereby such notions and conclusions are derived in a moment of rare lucidity. Such situations are actually not natural for me cause I normally operate on fuzzy logic. So I shall not be held against this should anyone feel incline to test my degree of acceptance, dignified or not. The other wonderful thing about being a woman is that like clothes, we get to change our minds until it suits our circumstance. Why go hungry to fit a petite blouse when you can always shop at the plus size racks? Change the rules, reinvent the game, I say it’s more fun to keep them guessing, keeps them on their toes too.

Letting go (Part 2)

Well when you go
Don’t ever think I’ll make you try to stay
And maybe when you get back
I’ll be off to find another way

It felt like another lifetime, but in fact it was merely two years ago that she loved him. It’s funny how words like “forever” can be so over-rated. She remembers saying it in the same breath that declared her love for him. Now it all seems like a stale joke, one that would often invade her thoughts during the most unlikeliest times. Like when she remembers how she would pray every night that they’d be together someday and forever. She truly believed it then and perhaps that is what’s making her sad even until today.

When after all this time that you still owe
You’re still the good-for-nothing I don’t know
So take your gloves and get out
Better get out
While you can

It’s a cruel joke she thought, that she’d still see him from time to time. Adequate time has passed and she no longer ached, both with longing and contempt each time their paths cross. She’s stronger now, more sure of herself. Except when he catches her off guard and tries to make her want him like before. More than once, she fell for that trick. And every single time, she vowed no more. No good would come out of it. And she’d be the only one to pick up the pieces after all the good times had passed.

When you go
Would you even turn to say
“I don’t love you
Like I did
Yesterday”

It’s hard not to be skeptical nowadays. When she reads how love supposedly conquers all, truly they can’t be saying about the kind of love she’s been through. The kind of love that uses and abuses, the kind that wrecks and overturns all sense of reason. But when she lays awake in the dead of night, she can’t help but long for it. She could even make do with the palest shade, the lightest hue, if it’d make her remember what it was like. But come daylight, when everything becomes clear and stark, she can only remember how hurt she was and how close she came to losing herself completely. Nothing could be worth that, she thought. Not even love.

Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading
So sick and tired of all the needless beating
But baby when they knock you
Down and out
It’s where you oughta stay

She’d go on days feeling fine, but then come days when she felt cheated and betrayed. On those days only anger kept her head above water. She’d feel nothing but bitterness thinking how unfair things turned out to be. Nothing gave her relief, every morsel of food tasted bland. Making conversation felt forceful and even painful sometimes. Going through the motions, she’d kill time attending to what seemed mundane and trivial at best. It really didn’t make much sense when everyone else seemed to have their perfect ending except her. On those days she felt like the last girl left standing, the one nobody wanted, the one wo has to fend for herself.

When after all the blood that you still owe
Another dollar’s just another blow
So fix your eyes and get up
Better get up
While you can

So that was what she did. She used all that anger to keep her focused. She was blessed with a quick wit and a sharp mind. At work she became the go-to girl. At home she juggled her domestic demands while attending school part-time. Her friends marvelled at how she made everything looked easy. She smiled graciously but deep inside she felt like screaming. Nobody truly knew just how barely she held herself together, just how close she was to coming undone. She never bothered to tell anyone thinking no good would come out of it. But sometimes the cracks threaten to show and she would take those signs and retreat for a while, tending to old wounds while finding relief in simple things like nature and music. Nobody understands, she thought, and even if they did, no one would care enough to do anything about it. She didn’t try to make it easy on herself either, maybe cause some days, she thought she deserved all this.

When you go
Would you have the guts to say
“I don’t love you
Like I loved you
Yesterday”

She was clear on one thing, she didn’t love him anymore. She didn’t want him like she used to, he was nothing more than forgotten pages in an old diary, one she no longer bothers to revisit. It gave her some comfort when she reassured herself of this. Too bad it often drove her to denounce the concept of love itself. Maybe I’m not worthy of this, for I had it once and I betrayed the one who truly loved me. Maybe it’s a matter of time, and if that’s the case, I won’t bother to wait around yearning for love to knock on my door. If only it didn’t hurt her so badly each time she thought this. But no one knew as she carried on doing what she does best, marching forth like the good soldier she has always been. Perhaps no one ever will, and she’ll be damned if anyone would pity her. She could stomach everything else except others’ piteous thoughts of her. She would rather be loveless than be loved out of sympathy.

When you go
Would you have the guts to say
“I don’t love you
Like I loved you
Yesterday”

I don’t love you
Like I loved you
Yesterday.

*Lyrics to “I Don’t Love You” taken from the song performed by My Chemical Romance, The Black Parade album.

No rest for the weary

There is a hole in my soul that threatens to suck the life out of me. There are shadows that fester there, teasing me to come closer. I try as hard as I could. I ignore them as best as I should. But there is always a moment of weakness when I am too tired to try much harder. There are times when I am tempted to give in and let it define me.

What do I call it, this ever-growing restlessness that I feel. I know how it taste like, a bitter pill I swallow almost everyday. I see it suck out the light from every colour around me. Not even the brightest sun can cast it away. It waits in the shadows until the sun is no longer. When the moon is high up, and the sky becomes dark again, it beckons me to admit defeat. It tempts me to question every belief I’ve held sacred.

Sometimes it asks me if I am sure. Whether this is what I truly want. It mocks my contentment and tells me I’m wasting myself, wasting time.. precious time. I am often left lurching in anxiety and panic, like I’m losing a race of which I see no end. Everyday I am tormented by this feeling of inadequacy, that I am worth more, but nothing within my reach seems worth fighting for.

I’ve hoped for some normalcy. I often pray that I was less ambitious, less hungry.. more thankful. I thought being grateful would make me happy. It does, maybe for the first five minutes, then my eyes focus on the horizon yet again. Something else lies out there, waiting for me to claim it. I don’t know why I feel this way. But everyday, that feeling grows stronger. Like I’m supposed to be someone else, as if I’m destined for other things. Bigger and better things. Not that I can be sure if these things will ever make me happy.

It would be much easier if I have a one-track mind. Then I could pick ruthlessness and cold-blooded precision, instead of self-doubt and being caution at every turn. It is not power I crave, but I admit feeling heady in its presence. I am often in awe when I am near it, I could almost taste it. But that can’t be it, can it? Or am I deluding myself yet again?

No, I am nothing like that. I seem to cursed (or blessed) to always see the glass both half full and half empty. The problem lies in my inability to choose either one. Why must I live like this, as if I’m trying to speed with one foot on the brakes. It frustrates the hell out of me, and some nights, like tonight, it scares me senseless.

I pray for relief. I pray for a time when I don’t have to feel, do, think or act. A moment when I can just be. I imagine myself lying passively staring at the clouds, letting the whole world pass me by. It doesn’t quite feel as idylic as it should. I get bored too easily, plus clouds freak me out sometimes. I often end up seeing things that aren’t really there.

Maybe there will never be any relief. Perhaps life is just that, it’s meant to be hard. To expect otherwise is a total waste of energy. To continue struggling like this only prolongs my addiction to drama. That much I admit, even I get tired of myself sometimes. Too bad being happy and shiny were never in my genes. Otherwise, I could simply go on, happily living a life of denial.

There is no rest for the weary, no prayer for the restless. Sleep will come when my body wills it to come. Until then, the night grows colder and darker before dawn gives way to yet another day.

Turning thirty-two

I turn 32 tomorrow. Can’t help but feel my age, plus a few more years. Then again, I’ve never been 32 properly, so I don’t know what this is supposed to feel like.

Actually, it’s not about the age. I can deal with the responsibility and the reality of adult life. I’ve been dealing with it for as long as I can remember. What I still struggle with is the day itself. The day of my birth. While my head is a bit messed up right now, I shall attempt to explain anyhow.

I have a knack of romanticizing a lot of things. My birthday is one of them. I honestly believe that a birthday should be celebrated. After all, it was the day you were born. Unless of course, you’re having a hard time dealing with life in general and half-regretting ever being born. But I’m not one of those people who curse their existence. I might be a masochist, I may be in love with too much drama at times, but I never regret being born. Anyways..

As I was saying, I romanticize my birthday. I kinda like to reflect on where I am, where I’ve been and where I’m heading. I do that from time to time, but on my birthday, things get really graphic. Probably that’s the first root cause. I allow myself to wallow too much in such things. Especially the looking back part, almost always comparing it with my original notions of adulthood, my childhood dream of who I’d be when I turn 32, or any other age in conjunction with birthdays past, present and future.

In actual fact, my life isn’t as crappy as I allowed myself to believe. Though in dire moments of mood swings and hormonal imbalance, everything looks bleak, tinged with regret. In actual fact, I have a lot of things to be thankful for.. my health (okay, I’m not athletic-fit, but I’m not ill with anything serious), my family (having three of the most important people in my world; my son, my dad & my mom), my job (apart from a good salary, it inspires me to do my best), a tight circle of friends (even if they’re constantly busy) and a lovely house to come home to (despite it belonging to my parents, living here makes it mine and I pretty much keep the household together).

So what if I’m not happily married with 2.5 children? So what if I still live with my parents? So what if some days I feel like I’m stuck between adolescent and proper adulthood? What is a normal life anyway? Normal is what you make of it. Same goes otherwise. As long as I’m healthy, well-fed, with some money in the bank and surrounded by people who love me (though somedays I suspect it’s mainly coz I buy the groceries each week). And oh, with a wicked car in my garage.. which takes me where I need to go pronto. Seriously, what more could I ask for?

But of course, I am brought up to always want more. I’m a cursed over-achiever (or blessed, that depends) and I have a problem settling. Doesn’t mean I’m not grateful, but I’m always.. always hoping, wishing, working towards something better. This explains why I’m busting my chops to earn a Masters degress, why some days I’m wound up too tight, why some nights I lay awake staring into the dark half-expecting for some kind of epiphany (it never happens, sleep comes soon after!). Guess that’s just how I’m wired. I don’t think these things make me any less whole. I’ve gotten past the whole episode of thinking my life is incomplete, just because I’m no longer living my childhood dream.

Yes, I had it once not too long ago. I was married, was blessed with a child and thought we’d grow old together with 3 more kids after that. But it didn’t happen that way. What happened? Life.. that’s what happened. In the course of living my life, I misjudged a lot of things and a few people too. Most importantly, I misjudged myself. I thought I was invincible, thinking I’ve had it all. Now I know better, life isn’t about having it all. It’s not
the end state that matters, it’s about the journey, the process, the perpetual business of living one’s life. I’ve come to believe that there’s no such thing as having it all.

So I’m back to where I started. Maybe this year, I should just pretend that turning 32 is no different than any other day. That I should still expect the same things, seek out to do the same stuff and carry on as normally do. But then, what’s the point of having a birthday if you don’t celebrate it. Seems like such a waste.. not that I don’t eat cake any other day of the year.

Perhaps I need a new birthday ritual. Instead of expecting things that might not happen (let’s face it, I’m too old to expect presents from my parents) or try to pretend like it doesn’t matter, maybe I can make something up. Something special in my own honour. Something I do to celebrate myself, my achievements, who I am.. not just who I’m trying to be.

Okay, I’m not normally into rituals, though I admit I’m a creature of habit. It’s just that cooking out something new and creative, something original.. now that’s a challenge. I’m a lot of things, but creativity is not one of my best traits. Still, I’m sure I can figure something out. Perhaps some kind of activity or a momento of sorts that I present to myself, to mark this occasion. Shopping for new cothes come to mind, but not exactly unique since I shop for lesser reasons. Gosh, this is tougher than I thought.

Guess I’ll sleep on it. I don’t think I need to rush this. Once I’ve decided on something, guess I could even postpone the ritual, if time doesn’t permit. My weekends are a bit crazy, unlike my weekdays.. it’s harder to plan my day by the clock.

Still, I’m glad I gave this some thought. It’s been bugging me for days, despite my effort to ignore it. I’ve decided I won’t allow myself to be disappointed, no matter what happens tomorrow. There’s too may things to be happy about, and on the same note, too many things more worthy of my concern.

So in closing, happy birthday ‘ol girl. You’ve made it this far. Who knows what lies ahead. Definitely it can go either way, but as the saying goes, if it’s meant to be, it’s up to me. Keep the faith and never, ever give up. The best is yet to come.

Letting go (Part 1)

After all is said and done, she knew she loved him truly. But people change, our hearts falter and we eventually forget. If there was one thing she learned out of all this was that nothing is forever. Nothing is ever permanent. It is not in our nature to be fixated on just one thing for an indefinite period of time. Something’s got to give, almost always.

He told her he loved her but he was torn. He wants to do the right thing. And so he finally did. He told her it was over and he needed a clean start. He hoped he hasn’t ruin anything for her but they both knew it was too late. Everything has changed, nothing will ever go back to the way it was.

She reacted as how most people would. First came the detached aloofness as if proclaiming to the world, I don’t really care. Then she put on the act of a reasonable woman and told him she understands and that she’ll be fine. But the heart is the kind of organ that will never take a lie sitting down. It is not like the mind which can be bent at will provided enough evidence is put forth and within reason. The heart knows what is right and true all along.

Everything hit her all at once within hours after he broke the news. Obviously, the detached aloofness and reasonable calm didn’t hold for very long. The day finally ended and she escaped to her car. It was her final place where no one could touch her or hurt her. She found much solace while driving no matter what were the traffic conditions. So from that day onwards began a new routine of bottling up her emotions while at work then clocking off sharp at 5 PM so that she can retreat to her car with fresh tears to be shed. She didn’t care who saw her, everything was already beyond disastrous.

It didn’t help matters that she saw him everyday. She would smell his fresh cologne in the morning and feel stinging tears welling in her eyes. Sometimes they would engage in conversation about work and she would try everything not to break down at the sound of his voice. She missed him so much it was unbearable just to be in the same room. Too many memories would collide in her head and more often than not, she had difficulty functioning at the most basic level. She was unravelling like a ball of yarn and her entire life was coming undone.

In retrospect she knew it hurt him too. She knew he struggled with guilt as much as she did. He realized what this meant for her. That she would have to rebuild everything she has laid to waste. He kept asking her if she could go back to who she was before, but he knew that that life is long over for her. So he did what most men would do. He soldiered on and expected her to do the same. Since pity wouldn’t be of much help, he turned to apathy and disdain. He even mocked her one time to pick herself up and just be strong, not knowing just how much he hurt her even more then.

Letting go is truly one of the hardest thing known to mankind. How do you say goodbye to the same person who gave your life meaning? Where do you draw the line that separates your past from your present and future? How do you go about dissecting that bit in your heart that hurts so badly it threatens the very life coursing through your veins?

She realized she had to learn at some point the art of letting go. It required her to stay focused in the present and not slip back into old habits of the past. But she still struggled with one thing, forgiveness. Not until she forgives herself, her new life cannot begin. And so her journey for redemption and self-forgiveness commenced, one that might never end until she draws her last breath.

Getting back to center

I’m currently reading a book entitled “Learn to Power Think”. It is simply about learning how to use our innermost thoughts and self-talk to program ourselves and help us overcome our challenges and harness our strengths. The topics are varied enough and some of the lessons include letting go of our past and visualize our future, like drawing on a blank canvass all of our greatest dreams and desires, whatever they may be.

Last night I read a topic called emotional awareness. It states that we often we get too caught up with our daily routine, trying our best sometimes to just get by. There might be good and bad days, and the latter could at times challenge us so that we lose our perspective and sense of purpose. The book further states that we should always be in tuned to our feelings, and if we find ourselves at a lost as we ponder this, we should then pause and repeatedly ask ourselves again, exactly how we feel at that moment. In time, the answer will come. Even if it does not, it helps to do a braindump of everything that’s buzzing in our heads and analyze how these thoughts affect us. Often it leads us to our innermost hopes and fears, things like wanting to be appreciated for a job well done, or even fear of failure while still hoping for the best.

I have to admit, my most challenging moments are when I could not figure out how I feel about certain situations in my life. It’s when I can’t decide if I want something badly enough or doubting myself on whether a particular choice is the right one after all. I sometimes second-guess my own intuition which I’ve come to realize is counter- productive. There’s always that nagging voice that questions, “What if?” that seems to endlessly analyze every angle to the point that it paralyzes me into inaction.

I know that I can’t possibly get everything right. Despite the persona that I know exactly what buttons to push (I was told this by a close friend, to which I merely said “Gee..thanks!”), I sincerely don’t. Like others, I try to weigh all pros and cons, then decide on the desired outcome. Knowing fully well that no solution is perfect, I would try to mitigate whatever risk or downside I can foresee. At the same time, I would realistically ask myself if I could do better by asking others for help. This is something I’m not particularly good at, but I’ve learnt that kindness is often a two way thing, you can’t possibly continue to be kind if you don’t allow others to return the favour every now and then.

So nowadays, my warning signals have been simplified. From my frequent anxiety attacks and imagining worst case scenarios (believe it or not, I used to think this was one of my strengths), I’ve decided to be concerned only when I can’t decide how I feel about certain things. If I’m upset with someone, or if my day is spectacularly shitty, I would pause and ponder, is there something unresolved in my head or maybe it’s time to regroup and review everything that’s piling on my plate (physically, mentally and emotionally). Normally, at the end of this, I begin to see some clarity. Sometimes, I would purposely defer certain tasks while telling myself that no disaster would come out of this, no matter what some folks say. Bottomline is to get some breathing space so that my thoughts could once again harmonize with my feelings. Usually after that, I find that I can function again at my optimal best, relate to those around me without fearing I would snap at them with a hurtful comment and generally look forward to what was left of that day.

I often get remarks from others saying I’m too emotional, or I often let my feelings cloud my judgement. I know that taken out of context, feelings can get in the way sometimes. But I’ve chosen not to shut out what my heart is trying to tell me. Similarly, when I have too much chatter in my head, I don’t deny them altogether by indulging in some kind of escapist pursuit. The only prerequisite is that it takes time to sort out these things, to synchronize my heart, my mind and my intuition. So in recognizing that, I would try not to be too preoccupied to the point that I can’t synthesize my internal mechanisms. It helps that I’ve finally learnt to say no, or not now and accord myself the luxury of an internal check and balance to help ensure that I always have clarity and inner peace. Even if I don’t get it 100% right everytime, it comforts me knowing that I’ve tried my best.

Between rhyme and reason

These last few days I’ve struggled while trying to write a new poem. I can still rhyme words, but they turn out quite lame and almost meaningless. I tried to find a subject that would inspire me, something that would evoke feelings that could lead to the right words. The usual topics come to mind; past love, disappointment, sadness and loneliness. These are the usual material that accompany my poems. At this point, I am unable to progress past “Everything left unsaid, still echoes in my head”. Sigh…

I’ve known for a long time that my creative streak was more often inspired by despair. We’re talking serious desperation either triggered or caused by severe depressive tendencies. Moments of solitude have that effect on me, when I would contemplate my lonely existence, wallowing in an endless pool of self-pity. I would recall memories from what seemed happier, simpler days. How I long to relive those moments, basking in the adoration of a loved one. Sometimes, tears would be shed, often bitter and self-condemning. A part of me would almost always whisper back how I deserve this, that this is all there is to look forward to for the rest of my days.

Bleak right, as if the whole world is about to end some time tomorrow.

The only good thing that came out of it were the words strung together to turn rhyme into reason. Sometimes I would share my works with friends and they’d comment admiringly and showered me with praise, but they always stopped short of asking if everything was alright, if I did feel as desperate as the lines in those poems. It gave me no relief anyhow, and soon after I stopped sharing these poems with anyone, choosing to write them down in my private journal instead.

Back to the problem at hand. I’ve suddenly lost my ability to write good poetry. No matter what I do, I can’t think of a subject or anything coherent to rhyme about. I can still put words together and they sound half decent, but it doesn’t strike a chord inside me and they leave me indifferent.

I wonder if it has something to do with my state of mind. Trust me, I have not regressed into something worse (I’ve seen the pit of that abyss and I vowed I’d never go there again!). In fact, I’ve been feeling pretty great lately. I seem to be on an even keel, my moods are pretty stable despite those dreaded hormonal imbalances (they only make me eat more but at least they don’t leave me feeling murderous) and everything seems to be going well. My family’s doing great.. everyone’s in good health and I spend lots of time with my son doing whatever feels fun. Work is buzzing positive vibes (never idle and making progress in all quarters) and my friends keep my spirits up with their endless antics. I feel like I’ve been blessed by some kind of lucky charm and even if I tried to muster an ounce of desperation (believe me I have.. for the sake of poetry), there’s nothing dark there. It’s like something or someone had taken out a bad bone and I feel like I’ve been cured.

So while I still want to write more poems, I’ve decided it’s not worth the price if it means I have to go back being dark, depressed and moody again. I love this feeling, I love the new me. I totally enjoy this feeling of abundance, and if that means I might never write a single line of poetry ever again, then it’s fine. I’m alright with that too. Plus I know it’ll be there when I need it, like a trusted friend waiting in the wings. When everything else fails me, those lines will come back, rhyming in harmony like they were always meant to be that way. That day will come, but I’m not in a hurry to leave this newfound contentment. So for now, let the sweetness linger with its saccharin aftertaste. I’ve swallowed enough bitter pills to last me a lifetime.

Her personal hell perfected

There’s this song by U2 entitled “Stuck In A Moment” which really got on her nerves. It’s not that it irritated her in a bad way, she just wished it didn’t ring with so much truth that her head hurts .

For as long as she’s lived, she cannot recall a time where she really didn’t know what to do. She knew what she did was wrong, but like most classic mistakes, it felt so right. She really thought she had found her soulmate, this is the one I’m supposed to be with, he is The One for me. Yet she cannot shake off the feeling. It was a horrible way to feel, and it didn’t go away even when she sleeps. She began to have horrible nightmares and she dreaded the thought of going home, cause that’s where all her feelings culminate into one gigantic ball of mess. The feeling took on different shapes and guises, but there was no mistaking it, the feeling of guilt.

She felt truly stuck and that made her more miserable than any other feeling she has ever known. She didn’t know how she could fall out of love with this one person who meant the world to her. And at the same time, she didn’t know how to undo it all so that she can go back to being the person she was. The girl who was supposed to know right from wrong. Somewhere along the line, that girl faded away and in her place, this other person took shape, with feelings she could not deny, struggling to get through each day while guilt gave way to self-loathing and more torment.

She hated the lies that so easily slipped into her conversations. Before long, it felt as if she had no control anymore. The line between what was true and false began to blur for her and for a while she thought this would make it easy. Maybe I should just decide that I truly want this. Even if it means I’ll have to be nasty and fight to have him in my life, even if I would lose everything I already have. What’s the point anyway, if what I have is not what I want. Aren’t I entitled to happiness as much as the next girl?

So she argued back and forth in her head, one moment deciding to let her inner bitch free only to withdraw as soon as the going got tough. No, that’s an understatement. It pretty much went straight to hell from thereon.

Maybe not literally, but it felt like it. She felt trapped, stuck and cornered. It was her personal hell perfected. And her dues were paid in slow motion for maximum effect. She finally understood why people turned to suicide, it felt senseless to prolong such a torturous existence. But she couldn’t bring herself to this, it was the one thing she couldn’t do. The reason was plain and clear to see. No matter how bad everything had become, she still had one source of salvation.. her child.