Runaway mom (again and again and again...)
Yes, my mom ran away again. But this time, it wasn't so surprising. The night before she tool off to go back up north, i had a disagreement with my brother. Last week, after my mom started behaving badly, i took her house key away. Essentially, she was locked at home while no one was home. I felt that it was necesasry to prevent her from trying to run away, eventhough i realise it would mean she would be at home. But then, my cousin is at home also, so she isnt entired locked in.
My brother argued that it wasnt right to keep her locked up and restrict her freedom. Furthermore, he said what happens if there should be a fire, or she needs to get out in case of an emergency? I argued that the possibility of a fire happening is much lower compared to the chances that she would run away. But we couldnt really reach a final agreement and left it at that. BUt the next morning before i left for work, i decided to just give her the benefit of the doubt and left her keys on the table. I told my brother i wont be help accountable or responsible if she runs away again.
True enough, that evening when i got home, she was missing. Bags gone, cloths gone, medicine gone. Went back up north no doubt. I told my brother and told me father. Both had to concede that i was right about the matter afterall, she would indeed run away. So after 2 hard months of trying to settle her down here in KL with us, we are back to square one. I feel tired, worn out and frustrated about the matter. How will it end? How are things going to be for the next few months? Who's going to take care of her after this? How can i avoid loosing my temper again if she comes? If i leave to the UK, will my brother be able to handle her?
So many questions with so little answers.
Words of An Agnostic
I feel so heavy deep inside. I feel disturbed and not at ease. For the past two days, I have had to forcefully feed my mother her medication.
The first day, she locked herself in the room, and was being very aggressive towards me. I lost my temper and scolded her, and in return, she screamed at me, talking a lot of nonsense, not properly answering what I was asking her. I took her medication and asked her to take it, but she refused. She said it was poison and that the doctor has reduced her dosage. The problem is, the doctor actually increased back her dosage after we consulted him on the deterioration of her behavior recently. But she denied it, saying she spoke personally to the doctor. I threatened he, told her to take her medication or else we would admit her to the hospital, but she remained defiant. I said ill stuff it down her throat if I had to, but even then, she still outright refused to take it. Finally, I quietly crushed her medicine, put it in a mug of milo and asked her to drink it. She quietly obeyed and was quiet for the rest of the night.
Yesterday, I came back, and she was still behaving abnormally. She was in a cranky mood, and I knew she didn’t take her medication. But I couldn’t find her medication, I knew she had hid it away somewhere. I asked her where is it, not wanting to accuse her just yet. She denied knowing anything, but from the way she acted, I knew she hid it away. I deliberately placed her medicine bag on the table and now it was gone. I became very angry, I told her to stop playing the fool with me and take the medicine out. She refused, so I started going through all her bags and drawers looking for the medicine. She started shouting at me, asking me not to touch her things and how she shouldn’t have come down this time. I found it in her bag, and by that time I was seriously loosing it. I slammed the bag on the floor and asked her what the hells was this. She denied putting it inside her bag. I said “God must have put in there izit?” She said “Yes” and I said “Which God is your God then? Satan?” I said to her that she was a liar, daring to lie right to my face, and now, even when she was caught red handed, she still dared to deny it. I told her “Up until 2 weeks ago, you have been trust worthy. But now, I can no longer trust you. You have lost my trust and my confidence, and I am very disappointed with you.:”
From that point on, I just totally lost my cool. Not many people have seen me in rage before, and neither does it happen often, but I feel horrible that it did. I made the cup of milo, crushed the medicine and gave it to her. This time, she knew that there was medicine in it, but I was in a very very foul, very very aggressive mood by then. I took her bag, and she tried to snatch it from me. I pushed her away and pried the bag from her fingers. I went to the living room, and she threw the phone we gave her to the ground. She came near me a few times, trying to get her things back from me, but I yelled at her and said “You stay away from me NOW if you know what’s good for you.” I was trying to gather all her medicine from inside her bag, knowing that she might have hid some inside it. She still charged at me and she hit me right on the face with her right fist. I felt the blood reach boiling point inside me. I said to her “Come on, hit me again then, hit me again!” But she refused, so I grabbed her fist and banged it on my head. I let go of her hand and gave her a slap. Yes, I gave her a slap. My own mother.
She just sat on the floor after that, and I let her be, organizing the medicines that she hid away, trying to look for a few medications unaccounted for. That was the end of the violence. My left cheek was swollen after that, but there was something aching even harder. It was my heart.
For at those moments, I had become a monster. I was almost totally out of control, my rage so deep that I wasn’t sure if I calm down. I was angry, I was frustrated. I was ashamed. I hated what I did instantly, but still unable to control my rage. Later, my girlfriend tried to sooth me, asking me if I was ok. I know she realized just how angry I was. You can hardly ever see me shouting or being very rough and aggressive, but I that was what happened. I was very rough with my mother, I was very aggressive and I was shouting my lungs out at her or talking in a very cold and steely voice.
When I eventually calmed down, I felt horrible and I felt just so frustrated. I wasn’t in much of a mood anymore, not wanting to do or say much, but I still had tuition to give. So I swallowed my frustration, swallowed my anger and went to teach.
I dread going home now. Not knowing just what might happen at home. I know my mother cannot be blamed for what she does. She is after all, she is mentally ill. I fear that I will totally loose my temper again. I fear that I become abusive. This cannot go on, for my own sake and for her own sake.
I was told recently that I’m not a Christian, but a free-thinker. An atheist, an agnostic. I’m not sure if I am an atheist or and agnostic, but maybe that person is right, maybe I should stop trying to calling myself a Christian. A person is defined by what they do, not what they say or think, and there certainly nothing Christian about how I have been acting. I do not go to Church, I do not pray, I do not go for fellowship and I don’t practice Christian principles. I may talk the part, but I have not walked the path.
In moments like these
I sat there in the car, doing nothing. I didn’t want to go back home just yet, wanting to escape the stress just for a while longer. I laid back, turned up the volume of my cd player, closed my eyes and just immersed myself in my own thoughts. I’m not sure why, but I felt calm, but sad. There is a lot I want to get off my chest, yet I cannot find the words to describe what I feel. As I listened to the songs, the same songs that have accompanied me since I was 15, I felt amazed at just how clearly the words and tune of the songs bring out our emotions. How crystal it becomes when the words and melody just seem to rhyme in harmony with what you feel inside. I’m not much of a music lover, but at that point, at that moment, I loved that music. Not for it sounding nice, but because the words and the melody crystallized to me the things and the feelings that I had hidden deep inside, which otherwise would remain hidden. I felt like talking to someone, just to get things off my chest, but since no one was available, I had to settle for some quiet time alone, and listening to the right songs at the right time certainly helps.
I just sat there, listening to the music for about an hour, soaking up every melody every tune, every word, every rhyme, thinking about all the tears, the anger, the sadness, the guilt, the shame, the joy, the jubilation, joy, and laughs that I have gone through the pass few years.
I still remember so clearly the ache I felt in my heart a few years ago, thinking about my mother. I sat in the living room, while everyone was asleep, silently shedding tears of guilt and shame for not taking better care of her. I felt so horrible, it seemed to me as if my heart was really aching. I dared not tell anyone or show anyone that I was grieving deep down inside about my mom, or about what had happen in my life. I could not share with anyone the deep dark secret that I had kept so well hidden. Even today, I have not told anyone about that skeleton I have, hidden deep within my closet. Everyone has their secrets, and so do I. I have not found anyone I can talk to honestly and plainly about how I feel about the matter, why I did it, what I was thinking. I know I will be judged by it, criticized and condemned for it, and I would deserve it and that is the very reason I haven’t told a soul. I feel so ashamed about it, I cannot bring myself to tell anyone about it, all the more share how I feel. Maybe someday, someone…… if I find the right person that would listen without judgment.
Then, there was the electrifying feeling I felt surging through from my hand, to my head and all the way down to my toes when I first held the hand of my girlfriend. Actually, it was very cheeky of me to do it, because, technically we weren’t a couple, and she had a boyfriend, and it was our second time meeting only! But there we were sitting on the grass in KLCC Park, and the park patrol asked us to move, no sitting on the grass. At that moment, all rational, logic and cool gave way to this crazy uncontrollable urge to have skin contact with her. I don’t know what got into me, but at that moment, my brain stopped working and my body had a mind of its own. I reached out, held her hand, and led her away to another spot, and she let me. I only held her hand for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity and my heart was jumping up and down, and I was mentally screaming my lunges out for doing it. I was sweating cold sweat by the time I let her hand go, and my hands were kind of shivering from it. Its crazy, but when you are just a 17 year old boy, it takes A LOT of guts to do anything in front or too a girl you really like. That magical surge of electricity I felt down my spine while hodling her But I guess forbidden fruit always taste the sweetest eh? Hehehe… so don’t get me started on my first kiss ok.
Spending quiet time, just thinking and reflecting, I went through a quandary of just how I really felt about my life. My life hasn’t been an easy one. Even now, I still face problems and challenges at home and outside that seem to never end. I feel so frustrated over my mothers mental illness, our financial state, my exam results, my constant arguments with my girlfriend, my lack of self-esteem and self worth. But on the other hand, my life is not too bad compared to others. Some go through worse things and turn out better than I have. Looking at them, I feel almost lucky, but I realize just how selfish and self-centered I become in feeling sorry for myself. Yet, the feeling lingers. Our memories fade with time. There are some memories, too sweet that I don’t want to forget; some memories, so hurtful, so significant, they too become too important to forget. I don’t want to forget them, so I try to write them down. These memories are the things that shape us and define our life. To forget them, is to be missing a few important chapters in our lives. And so we remember them, by hearing a song, watching a movie, visiting a place, reading a poem or in this case, reading a blog, Because if there is anything worth in this small little blog of mine, it is definitely the memories of the feelings that I went through. Happy memories my friend
The Art of Ice-Cream
Do you think familiarity breeds contempt? Or is being familiar with something only make you like it even more?
Take for example, an ice cream.
If you eat ice-cream for the first time in your life, you will be like "Oh my God! This feels great! This is the best thing in the world! How have i been living without this for the past XX years of my life?" So from then on, the more you eat it, the more you start to enjoy it. Tasting the smooth texture in your mouth, the way the cream slides over your tongue into your throat, the cool invitng chill you get down you throat. You even start to look forward to it, remembering clearly how ice-cream taste, how it feels going down your throat. When you finally get your ice cream, you anticipation turns into excitement. You eat yr ice-cream, and all that you expected to taste is instantly confirmed. That confirmation further strengthens your liking for ice-cream! It may not be as exciting as the first time anymore, but you've learned to enjoy the finer points of ice-cream eating.
But then, if you indulge too much in too little time, you start to get tired of it. It still taste the same, but its nothing great anymore. Just like how it was the past few times. But the more you eat it, the more you mentally visualize how it will taste, and at some point, after eating too much too soon, you start to dread the taste. The memory of the taste is followed not be excitement but by dread. And when you finally eat it again, all that you expected to taste is instantly confirmed. Again. That confirmation then strengthens you DISliking for ice-cream! Get it?
So, familiarity with something does bring joy in the things we do. Afterall, we all like what we know best. We like to know what we can expect and always expect what we know. We dont always want to be adventurous or to be thrown into the exciting unknown, coz the unknown isnt always exciting!
But do it too often, too soon in between, and that familiarity brings a totally different meaning. Too much of something, even if it is a good thing, is not good. Our mind becomes saturated, unable to fully appreciate that thing again just yet.
So whether its eating ice-cream, playing Dota or having sex, remember, you start from "Oh my God, this is great!" followed by "Hey, im getting the hang of it, getting really good and fully enjoying it!". But watch it, go slow or you'll end up "Oh, this again. Wait, let me switch to zombie mode."
WHere have all the good luck gone
I have been having horrible luck.
Motorcycle broke down. Had to push it to the repair shop. Cost RM 165, which I didn’t have. Friends had to come bail me out.
Failed 2 of my papers. It cost RM 100 to resit the paper, and lots of studying. I got caught in the rain while coming back from work. It cost me an hour plus I still got soaked wet.
Mom gone into a relapse. Her doctor reduced her med dosage a lot, and she has been secretly not taking her medicine. She’s totally not herself now. This morning, she wasn’t wearing any pants. When I asked her why, she said she needs to wash her pants. Keeps on talking about going away and she’s messing up the house a lot. I find my clothes on the floor, pots and pans upside down, books lying everywhere etc etc blah blah blah.. Told her ill bring her go exercise, she says she cant because her leg has glass.
Big fight with girlfriend. Had a big long argument with me girlfriend about my family situation, her feelings etc. Says she cant take the pressure of staying in my house. Mom giving her a hard time it seems. Also she says she wants privacy with me, which we hardly get any of anymore. Everything that she does with me, my mom or dad has to be there too.
Short on cash. Going back and forth 6days a week, going picking up and dropping girlfriend = money. Eating dinner = money. Repair bike = money. Me = no money. Get it? Why wasn’t I born a rich mans son?
Stressed out- kind of short tempered recently. Mom and girlfriend on the receiving end unfortunately. Feel horrible, but trying to control dat temper. Fail exam = stress. Cant tell dad I failed = stress. Travelling far distance = stress. Fearing for life on the road = stress (just saw an accident happen in front of me yesterday morning). Girlfriend unhappy = stress. No money = stress. Mom mentally ill = ultra stress.
Low self esteem. NO car = low self-esteem. Big fat pot belly = super low self esteem. Exercise with no visible results = frustration
Thing that have been going right for me:
Failed my papers. Now I can resit and get an A! hahahahaha.
Haven’t died. Despite travelling 1600 kms over the pass 4 weeks on motorbike, im accident free.
Make new friends. Recently made and strengthened a few friendships in work and at home.
Cant think of anything else for now.
Is 20 Mature Enuf?
According to a friend, there IS a difference between a 18 year old guy and a 20 year old guy. It seems, that short little 2 years does make a difference in how gals out there perceive us guys! Are we guys REALLY more mature ofter just 2 years? I find that somewhat hard to believe
Though generally it may be true that 20 old are just a bit more mature, I find myself constantly confronted with some of my age who (IMHO) are just too far behind in that department. On the other hand, I find myself surprised to talk to some younger people and discover that they are amazingly mature for their age. To me its hard to measure a persons maturity based on their age. Its like a long journey that each and everyone of us has to make ourselves. Some get far ahead early on, maybe because their route wasn’t too tough, but others get stalled and struggle at some points, just not able to advance further yet. They say, the more you know, the more stupid you feel. Its because when we learn, we realize that there is just so much in this world that we don’t know yet, and trust me, I fell pretty stupid.
It feels the same when it comes to maturity. 2 years ago, at 18 years old, I felt that I was pretty mature. After all, I was of legal age! I felt that I have grown up into a young adult, ready to take on whatever the world has ready for me. Now at 20 (or 21 should I say), I see that there are many things that I yet to conquer, and that thinking I am mature is different from knowing how mature I am. So what is the measure of maturity? I have no idea. But maybe, just maybe it has got to do with wisdom. Just like how knowledge can bring about intelligence, perhaps the measure of a persons maturity is how wise he has become, and not how intelligent or how much he knows. Its one thing to know what kind of advice to give, but it’s a totally different thing to embrace that advice. In my own experience, the many bitter and attitude changing truths come to me not when spoken, but when felt. I had to be hit in the head, fall hard to the ground, feel the pain that ensued to really learn my lesson, and mind you it wasn’t a lesson I haven’t heard of before. But until we really get burned or reach some sort of enlightenment, we will just continue to be blissfully ignorant and (in many cases) just plain defiant.
