Life in J, Season 4?

 It's April now.

I'm typing this from my school's infirmary room, otherwise known as Bilik Kesihatan. I'm the ketua for this week. What a way to start a new week after the Raya holidays.

It's April now. I'll be 32 in a week. Sometimes I forget I'll be 32. It's like a real confusion whether my current age is 30 or 31 and I have to subtract the years to really confirm it.

Contrary to what others say about getting into your 30's, I'm not really enjoying it. There's so much pressure to behave and act well, maintain your composure, be the bigger person, be proper, act your age, show maturity. And so many friends who used to be like me are now having terrific love lives so I can't help feeling a little Fear of Missing Out (popularly known as FOMO).

I don't know when it started but the thoughts are getting more intense, of getting out there once again and trying my luck on love. I guess it's a good sign that I've sorta healed from my previous relationshit, albeit sometimes the waves do come back and I think I'm still not fully healed for a new one.

Since end of June 2022 I think I've made tremendous progress. The first wave was of course that 3rd Term holiday in September in the same year. Then of course there were series of dark days, then darker days, then darker v2.0 days, but I'm glad to realise that those days are over now? Or are they?

I went to my Psych appointment today. I'm not longer on medication for about half a year I guess. Or slightly more than that. Some days I think I'm fine, it's just that my habit of wallowing in self-pity is the thing that's dragging me down. Some days I think that I have a defect. In fact I'm almost convinced my mind isn't healthy or normal. 

It seems like I'm making progress because I no longer want to just die. It's milder these days. Maybe all the distractions are helping. The walk in the park. The getting to know more new people. Idk, really. But beneath all these I know it's still lurking, that angry part of me, because this morning I was so angry and annoyed with the doctor who kept on lecturing me on ways to get proper sleep and ways to fix myself as if everything's so easy. She recommended me to see the Clinical Psychologist. I'm not sure whether they'd call. I think some part of me is apathetic towards certain things. Like why all the hassle if in the first place you seem disinterested to look further into my case and lecture me on thinks as if I don't know what to do. I told her again and again I knew what to do, it's just that it's so hard to actually do them.

I don't know if she gets it. I don't expect anyone to get me. Like how I'm being so sensitive and touchy again, I'm not talking to some of my friends just because I felt annoyed of what they said.

I don't know but today's appointment didn't give me a nice feeling. It was supposed to help me but right now I just feel angsty again I could really use a cigarette. It's so weird to be almost 32 but to also be this angsty. I love my job. I have a comfortable life. I'm doing well. My pay is good. Yet here I am like when I was getting paid peanuts and treated as subhuman at work back in 4-5 years ago.

And it isn't helping that the moment I put on such high hopes to get to know a person I was already growing fond of, I experience rejection again. Why was October 2019 so easy when it was so fcking wrong. I remember begging for it to now happen but it happened and carried on for years. Yet for this one this time, I'm literally begging so hard for it to happen but he's gone just like that. 

I know there's that thing like in the Bad Decision Bagel poem but again it's so different between knowing something and actually taking proactive steps or conscious effort to follow, do or accept it. 

I know maybe I'm in the process of dodging a fcking huge bullet or something but my heart and mind is so stubborn. And I know this isn't good because I know we must accept that:

1. Not everything is within our control.
2. Even if we get something, everything's temporary anyway.
3. We must learn to navigate through changes.

See? I'm not fcking dumb. I know it. It's just like there's two persons in me, one the very zen and sensible and wise and all-knowing adult, trying to advise this angsty teen or some kid with a wild tantrum.

Yet how do I explain this to the doctors? I don't think there's a fix for the essence of your being. Yes we learn through experiences, we won't touch what burnt us again, but there's always going to be that side of us that refuses to just follow what's good and what's sensible.

Seriously I just want a real break.

Maybe getting these all out in words has helped me see things a bit. I'm just tired of always being the decision-maker for myself, of having to fully take care of me, of having to stay very vigilant. I just want to relax and have someone take care of me too, like a little innocent kid being loved and cared for.

Am I still trapped here, this little girl inside of me, pretending to be brave and sarcastic and funny while truly I am tired and scared and so full of shit? 

I don't know.

I'm scared of turning 32, if I'm really honest about it. 

I'm really scared.

2025: Whew

 So we made it into another year.

1st February 2025.

I did something today. I went to the zoo. With someone new, someone I wouldn’t even expect I’d meet in this phase of life.

The excitement still hasn’t died down, and amidst that excitement of course there is fear.

The good ol’ classic fear of abandonment.

So I got to know A around November last year. It was just something random and spontaneous. We went out to the movies in December, and since then it’s been an on-and-off thing.

I know A isn’t ready for a new relationship.

I know I don’t want to be with someone who’s not ready.

And of course, there’s a bunch of things I don’t know. I learnt that assumption isn’t good, and neither is overthinking.

So as I lie in bed tonight, I just want to appreciate today. The jokes, the laughs that I had with A. The fact that he agreed to come and spend his time. The moment he helped me wear his full face helmet. The way he held the door. 

People would say it’s common courtesy. And obviously I don’t know him well enough. But I like this day. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. Oh, to be smitten. Oh, to feel that excitement, that rush. 

I’m not innocent to label it as love. My past experience taught me well. But I’m giddy. I’m enjoying this. And I want more.

To even think of this day—riding at the back of a Yamaha R25 in JB… it’s something I never imagined would happen in my lifetime. It just felt so surreal, looking at the tall buildings, listening to the purr of his bike’s engine, pinching is shirt to stay balanced behind. 

I know, this is just the second time seeing him and I shouldn’t allow my expectations to get too high. I wonder what would my counsellor say if I still met her. I had my last session last year around October or something. We concluded I was already capable of taking care of myself. I wonder how would she react if she heard about today. Is this a good beginning, or am I putting myself at risk?

I’m scared of getting hurt. I’m scared of getting my heart broken. 

But I want this one to work out. 

Please, please just let this one work out. 

So the first half of 2024 is gone?

 I'm blogging from my living room in my rented place in Pasir Gudang.

The night is silent, my neighbours kids have stopped screaming and bumping themselves against the walls. My cats are asleep. My Kindle is next to me, the cover of Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch locked on its screen.

This morning I sent my kids for scrabble. They didn't win, but they did well, according to me. 18th place out of 29 isn't too bad, right?

The place is messy now. I just don't have enough willpower to put everything in their places.

Tomorrow I'll have to go to work as usual. 

You'd think that after the previous post where my abdomen was cut open in an operating theatre, I'd sorta change 180 degrees into a pious, life-loving, God-fearing, all positive person.

You're wrong.

It takes just about a few months for me to forget the fragility of life and good health and now I'm back to being a whiner. 

I've weaned off on escitalopram against my doctor's advice, tired of becoming a robot. I feel things now. It's been around a month since the last pill. I mean I cried when I saw an ig post about a dead cat, remembering Kitty. Those tears wouldn't have come if I was still on medication. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is I need that little sadness. That little sadness when I arrive home after work and I watch the sunset and I close my gate and I know I'm not going to have anyone to talk to until the next day. Or next 2-3 days on weekends and long weekends.

I need the sadness when he rejects my invitation to go ngeteh, the sadness that I was always there for him but he can't even return me that favour.

The sadness that what happened in 2022 still bothers me.

The sadness that my life is absolutely lonely but as an adult I will have to professionally mask it until the next counselling appointment.

The sadness that those appointments may not even work anymore and perhaps the counsellor is secretly hating me.

You know, like fuck it why does life has to be like this.

One moment you're so happy you've been invited for a carpool and a trip to Melaka and you sing your heart out at Hard Rock Cafe and the next moment you're sad because they told you the band wasn't that god anyway compared to the last time they went there with their bunch of other friends.

And one moment you just feel like you're sorta accepted but you know one wrong move will eliminate you from that spot and sense of belonging you're beginning to build.

One moment you know perhaps you're not mentally and emotionally fit enough to get into a relationship and start a family, but at the same time you're longing for a family you build on your own.

Why is it that I can't seem to be calm and find peace in the moment, with whatever I currently have--a hugeass home with three bedrooms all by myself. A functioning kitchen with food. Books to keep me entertained. Stuff, chores, hobbies, all that can make me occupied.

But all I choose to do is to focus on what I don't have.

A guy. A relationship. A shoulder to cry on, someone I can lean my head on their shoulder. Someone to comfort me when I'm scared, when I'm sad, when I'm pissed, when I'm bored.

I'm beginning to think I'm running out of time. And some part of me already believes this is what I get for all the wrongs I have done. That I deserve this loneliness. That I deserve everything he's done to me.

I know there's nothing I can do.

I can't force people to love and accept me.

I can't force people to stay and not leave me.

I'm old enough to understand that if it will happen, it will. And if it doesn't, then it doesn't. There's no way to force things I can't control.

Sometimes I forget about that. I'm just too stubborn to accept things as it is. That this isn't cuti akhir 2022 anymore, that the person I knew back then was a different person because he's masking his weaknesses to get to know me. I wish I reacted differently sometimes to certain situations in the past. This would've saved me from so many unnecessary heartbreaks. But who knows, perhaps these heartbreaks were necessary after all.

Character development? 

Whatever.

See you in another post in 2025, if I'm still alive. 

How I started my new year with a midline laparotomy, and other things.

 I made it alive!

I'm here to see yet another year, and I have to say boy what an epic start it was.

I was scheduled for an appointment on January 4th, didn't expect I had to stay warded, and just like that the next day I found myself being cut open like a frog in a science class. 

How things just went so fast, I guess I didn't have much time to process it all.

Now I'm recuperating well at home,  slightly one week post surgery, with the company of my mum and two kittens. It's something I never imagined would happen, to walk into the age of 31 having to get a surgery all by myself. I never thought this was possible, that I'd have to rely on the compassion and mercy from complete strangers and colleagues I didn't trust enough to be friends. What an important lesson indeed, to go back to my 2017 self and get reminded that strangers are reliable and kind, and people who you deem acquaintances can provide the most unexpected form of care.

A midline laparotomy is something I've never thought about, nor do I even know the term prior to having one. Basically you get a hugeass cut horizontally on your abdomen, and realistically it leaves a very big scar. Have I fully accepted this? I guess it's tough, in this pursuit of love and acceptance and the belief that people still chase for beauty and perfection, it's like I loss a few points amidst my recent eczema scars as well. But I guess I can't complain, I'm alive, they got the thing out of me before it exploded or something. And at least it's not cancer, I tell myself.

The past week's been slow--animal crossing on my nintendo switch lite, playing with the kittens, trying to get back to reading and annotating Yagihara's A Little Life. Having conversations with my mum, trying to show appreciation that she came all the way to take care of me as my surgery wounds heal. Diet's been mainly on salmon and broccoli congee--again, I can't complain and I guess I'll have to wait before I get back to having my nasi lemak, laksa sarawak, and other spicy lauk sold at the canteen.

So what's the plan for 2024?

I can feel myself getting old, that there's not much cringe ambition and motivation left. I've got a job that gives me a tremendous sense of purpose, that nothing else matters anymore because I love my kids dearly (despite getting impatient with their teen behaviour sometimes). Oftentimes I picture myself as them, that 15 wasn't so far away, that my past writings remind me how terrifying it could be, navigating through school and stuff without much understanding on human behaviour and life's mysteries.

Heck even I don't understand life sometimes, but I know it's good and it's bad sometimes. I know oftentimes I get defeated my emotions, of waves of nostalgia and longings of the people and things and moments that have passed. But what power do we mere humans have but to get up again each time and remind ourselves that things will eventually turn out better. Better, and slowly for the best. As I think back of my years drifting aimlessly, changing jobs and worrying of an uncertain future, I just know that one day it'll all make sense, amidst all the worries and fears.

Spiritually, I've come to a switch, back to believing that there is indeed a God who orchestrates all these according to His will--A God who comforts and a God who cares. The journey of knowing that God is still a blur, but around the end of last year I had a longing for worship, an indescribable faith that I am taken care of.

While I admit my past mistakes still disappoints me till this day, I know I can't just dwell in them. Having gone through my surgery, having the moments of pure helplessness and pain, I know there is a price to pay and I believe I've partially paid my bit. I feel remorse over my past actions, but what more can I do? I just know that by now the people I've hurt will find their way to heal and eventually forget about me. 

Every moment prior to the surgery will be a memory I wish I can keep, experiencing pain, addressing it to the doctors, having gone to ED to see the surgical doctors and ruling out other complications, going through scans, getting prodded, getting poked, telling the nurses I'm in pain, taking painkillers, being pushed into the operation theatre, faces blurry cos they took my glasses off, getting assured that I won't know the pain because I'd be fully anaesthetised, asking again of the possibility I'd wake up halfway through surgery.

Waking up, it felt surreal, as if I went through a long, dreamless sleep, all my worries and thoughts taken away from me. Does death feel like that? Or is it more complex? I just remember being woken up by the doctor, the nurses, whoever they were, who were asking me whether I know where I was, and my initial words were simply, "Bina Insan kat mana? Budak-budak siapa jaga?" As a recall this memory I can't help to marvel at the greatness of modern medicine, of science, of how these knowledge have birthed capable people in the medical line, it's just so wonderful to think of, how are bodies are like cars sent for repair, how they can just lift out that thing and I could wake up completely fine, managing to articulate the pain as being similar to "Post-workout at the gym." I smile every time I remember the giggles of the doctors and nurses, entertained at my reaction, waving goodbye to me as I was pushed back to the ward.

To the doctors and nurses of Hospital Sultan Ismail Johor Bahru who took good care of me throughout my 6 days stay at Ward 4D, I will always remember the kindness and care. 

I'm glad I walked into the new year with such a tender fact that life is worth living, that I should take care of my mind and body, that it's all going to be fine.

I'll take this moment of recuperating as "Time you'll never get back," as said by my wise friend Cindy who's still here throughout the years of turbulence. This is, indeed, time I'll never get back. 

And being here, experiencing all these kindness, I just can't believe how the recent years have made me skeptical and cold.

So midline laparotomy, thank you? Despite the scar, I'll learn to accept things as it is. 

2024 will just be another year. Another year to learn how to become a better teacher, another year to learn how to manage deadlines, another year to maintain friendships and start new relationships. Another year to prepare myself for rejections, another year of trying, of heartbreak, of joy of love of all things in between.

I'm excited, and I'm eager to do better than the year before.

Random Evening Thought

It’s kinda funny that as you grow older you sorta learn more things about yourself that you thought you’ve already known.

I mean it’s your own body, own soul, you’ve literally been you your whole life but there’s so much more to know? Weird.

Take for instance last week I’ve just known for the first time that I’m actually allergic to shrimp and crab.

Then this evening it dawned upon me that I don’t know myself quite well after all.

Last year I’ve just discovered that I don’t have much of an impressive pair of lungs—my voice capacity isn’t as loud as a lot of people I know in my new profession. 

And today I just can’t help but ponder, perhaps if another me existed I won’t bother to befriend her or get to know her better. She’s way too eccentric for my liking. And probably that’s why he didn’t choose me in the end?

While there are things I like about myself, like my level of empathy and sensitivity, I sometimes wish I was more popular, more likable, more magnetic. 

but I guess we have to make do with what we have.