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.  

Walking into 2023

 It comes in waves, really. They were right about it.

One moment you thought you’d be fine without them, but some nights it just comes creeping. The times you’ve shared with them, the deepest secrets you’ve opened up and showed them, the vulnerable parts of you that you’ve trusted them to take care of. It sends a lump in your throat, and you just can’t stop wondering why things had to turn out the way it did.

I walked into 2018 not knowing I’d meet him. A soft-spoken man who made me feel included, protected, loved and cared for. I looked up to him, he was my best friend, we shared interests and jokes only we could understand. I felt understood, I felt heard, I felt that the Universe finally sent me someone who understood my humour and thought that I was cute and lovable.

How did things just crash and vanish, I really don’t know. If you say it’s a lesson, that that’s the way of life—that the temporariness of everything is what makes it special, well to be honest after six months without him I still can’t see it that way.

While I understand that impermanence is part of life and sometimes you just can’t stop someone from leaving, nights like tonight I still wonder why it all had to happen, why I had to meet him, why I had to share my special bits with him, because the memories pain me so much. The way we shared that bond, and in the end turn into strangers like this, the way I’m dying to know whether he still thinks of me the same—this silence, the days when I miss him so intensely and would kill to hear his voice again, to hug him and to giggle with him over a stupid joke we share. 

I don’t understand anything about how this could happen from the start. And I’ve spent the last half of 2022 without him, somehow. Walking into 2023 without him shouldn’t pain me this much, but the hurt is still there, lingering, like a ghost, a black figure, jeering at me over my mistake of trusting a man who in the end didn’t fight to choose me. 

Will it get easier? I hope so. I want to believe it will get easier, that I will find someone better, that I will forget him. I want to stop clinging onto the memories ai had with him. 

This year, I want to heal. I want to experience kindness, I want to be reminded it’s ok to have made that mistake of choosing someone who in the end abandoned you. I want to forgive and let go, and stop fighting against something I have no control over. 

Forgive me, Universe. I just want a life filled with love. 

What on Earth

What on earth am I doing here?

2022.

I'm still alive. Well, barely. I read some previous posts I made a few years ago. Fears and all that. It's funny because the fears are still there but some have taken shape into different forms.

A week ago I wanted to hang myself. 

No kidding.

I sent myself to a crowded morning clinic, did the DASS, had "severe depression" written on my card. After that? Nothing happened. I'm still alive, although some nights I do still think of how does it feel like to get to the other side, to finish this all, because really the journey has become too long and I'm tired and I've seen enough.

Kitty died. 

Kitty died a week ago, on 3rd August 2022. Or maybe somewhere before midnight on 2nd August. I wasn't there to say goodbye to her. The last I saw her was in early June when I came back for the holidays. I had fears of losing her when I first moved here in April. 2022 sucks.

And it's not only that. 

I lost the guy I love, or loved, or thought I loved. I don't know which is correct, at the rate how things are going now. I don't even know when's the official breakup date. Just on 28th June something shitty happened and the whole July was a mess, and the first week of August was a total wreck for me.

I'm writing this down as if it's a diary entry of a teen in a YA novel, all angst and anger, but comedic. The fact is it isn't. It's painful as hell. When Kitty died it wrecked me further, because I realised when I came back here in June it was the final time things were "normal" back in Kuching. My next holiday is going to be completely different. And I hate different. I hate changes. I hate growth! I hate the fact that things are temporary but my own death is coming too slow!

It's not like I really want to die. I'm sure if Death came knocking at my door (a rented room in a rented house) tonight, I'd shit my pants. But really I'm just tired. If I jumped off Saujana in 2016 I wouldn't have to work where I worked at, met him, fell in love and end up with this pain I'll perhaps carry for a lifetime. I don't know if this is just a fresh wound and I'm being overly dramatic, but I'm still in denial and it hurts as hell to watch a person change right in front of your very eyes, turning into a monster you no longer recognise. The same person who sent you good morning texts and video called you and said he loves you and talked to you daily about the smallest things in your boring routine! How could someone maintain a deception and transform in a blink of an eye--without any arguments, no warnings, nothing.

But I guess things were doomed to fail and the past almost-three years were a lie after all, as how he worded it. A lie. That's what he said. Well fuck, right.

For many years I knew that trusting people is a mistake, and that everything is a lie. An then for two years I let my guard down, and quoting Lewis Capaldi, he pulled the rug. 

The big question now is will I ever heal?

The second big question is will I actually live to see my greatest fear, which is to die alone, old, wrinkly, never been loved and cared and protected by a life companion?

Will I always remember him fondly, even when I'm like 65? Because damn that will hurt.

I got what I wanted this year. A job. A job I knew would give me some sense of better purpose in life, unlike those sucky retail jobs I've had (and feared of having until old age). 

But why do things still feel wrong?

What is this constant chase for more? What is this void that never got filled?

I'm in a small town now, it's like where I lived at in Kuching. Quite suburb, has a little small town vibe to it. It's not entirely bad. In fact, for the whole months of April, May and June I think I was contented about things. I was settling down. And then came late June and July and now I want to die once again, the feeling I've realised I lost when I worked my last retail job. (I remember very vividly I was just between the aisles of stationeries realising I didn't have suicidal thoughts for probably months despite the harsh working conditions and long hours, and I had goosebumps because for the first time things felt normal).

But now I guess I'm back to square one.

It's not like I'm crying now. (Which is weird). I'll probably cry and wet my pillow before my eyes shut down tonight. I won't lie and say I don't miss him. He's been a huge part of my life in the past three years, sharing hobbies, reading the same books, telling punny jokes, all those quirky stuff I always dreamt of having someone to share with. 

And now he's gone, just like that. In the arms of someone else.

No hope of getting back with me, because I know his family disapproves.

And again, he's turning into someone I don't recognise anymore.

I said Kitty died.

And he said "I thought we stopped."

And he wants me to be "Gone forever," which hurts like hell because to be gone forever means to die.

And again I know it sounds stupid but I do feel like dying and just giving him what he wants--me to be gone forever. How would he like that?

But then I can't, because there's my favourite nephew who'll grow up and learn his Monono died of suicide and I can't do that to him. And my kids at school. They're teens. I'm supposed to live and be here until life decides for me my time is up.

Which sucks, but what choice do I have?

I have so many other people to consider and now this is sending me to tears. Because my mum will definitely be crushed. And again, my kids. And again, my little nephew. 

I have a fantasy that if I cross to the other side I'll probably be free from all this heartache and see Kitty again and everything else won't matter.

But of course I'm scared. I can't commit to the idea.

I want to type "What did I do to deserve this?" but that sounds whiny because I'm not the only person on earth facing a tragedy (or perhaps this is just a minor inconvenience).

But really, I'm so tired. I'm exhausted. I miss the feeling of crawling into someone's big, fat arms, getting a nice warm hug and someone telling me it'll be alright. And someone promising me to be there. The comfort, the security. 

I can't do this on my own. 

I hope this isn't the last post I'll hit publish here, because if that's the case then probably I did it, I made it to the other side and mustered up my courage to end all this.