I want to be someone else
As the world faces another round of humanitarian crisis in Dili and Indonesia, im facing a mini personal crisis
You see, last week i went over to the cyber cafe as always to send some email and do some surfing. But when i came out of the place, ready to go home i discovered one shocking thing; my motorbike was gone! I walked towards where i parked it and the spot where the bike used to be was empty. I initally thought someone moved it out of the way, but as my hand reached into my trouser pocket, i realised the horrible truth.
I had practically gift wrapped my motorbike and sent it as a present to some willing thieft. I left my keys on the bike.
Now, this is not the first time something like this has happened. On many many other occasions, i have been too absent minded and just plain careless with my belongings. But all of those times, the loss was either minor or i got lucky and nothing happened. But this time, i had no such luck. In other words, i had it coming.
For the past few days i have been dreading about this loss. It stilla aches to think or talk about it,especially since it is squarely my fault 100%, therefore, i will refrain from going on about how significant this loss is to me emotionally, perhaps later when im slightly more clear minded. BUt i will say this; THe lost of that bike has hurt me alot, and it was about more than just loosing a bike. It is my intergity, my reliability. I am at a crossroads it seems, at least emotionally. That night, i confided in my girlfriend saying "I hate the person i am now. Im sick of being who i am. I want to be someone else." I hate my weaknesses, i hate the kindo of person i am now; absent minded, careless, late comer, forgetful, laid back, procrastinator....
I want to be someone else. As much as i think i have potential, it has all remained just that. Potential. Unharvased, unused, just put aside for storage. I wish i could just spin myself into a caccoon and emerge a new man, but it's not that simple. i wish i could just wipe away these demons in my head and be the person i know i can become....
In the mean time, i am left to lick my wounds, ponder on my loss, reflect on my charater and attempt the impossible task of becoming someone else; someone still hiding underneath all my weaknesses, waiting to be set free, and of course try to find a way to go around now that i dont have transportation!
Arguing with me mom
I just had the strangest arguement with my mother. Since it was a long one, let me just say we argued about the following things
whether we should deal in absolutes.
She was arguing about how since my girlfriend was not siding her or my father is some matters, she was against her. The "if your not with me your against me" I challenged her saying that things are not that simple, that if your chose to divide the things around you like that, everything will come crumbling down.
If people treat her differently
She is convince that since she is a psychiatric patient, people treat her differently and with less respect. She said that she is very self conscious of herself and how she behaves around people and how people treat her. I told her that she needed check if her feelings truely reflec the reality of things. She may feel that people respect her less, but whether it was true was a different matter
What defines insane
she said the 2 biggest problem she faces is whether she is truely 'psychiatric' and if so, will she ever be able to be rid of it. She said that she finds it hard to accept that she, being a nurse is like that. She also said that she doesnt think she is insane. All the things she did, she did with a reason. I challenged her about some of her action. I brought up about how she once walked around barefooted around the neighbourhood without any shoes. She said she did that in hopes that someone will buy a shoe for her. The time she lay naked on the ground when we found her, she said she did it intentionally to get our attention, but i highly doubt this. I asked her if i was right for a person to run naked on the street if he wanted to save on the laundry, and she said "Why not, he has his reasons. To others he may seem crazy but he knows what he is doing." At this, i didnt know what to say but finally i said that that person may know what he is doing, but he has lost his sense of judgement. She said that people are not insane as long as they know what they are doing.
At the end of it, i was really surprised when she told me that she understands what im trying to tell her, and that she has never spoken like this with my brother or anyone else before. I didnt understand and asked her what she meant. She said that she has never spoken at this deep a level about it before, dealing with all these abtract matters. She said my brother was more simple and superficial in his thinking, though he has a very good heart. I was taken aback by this, because it didnt occur to me before. I cooled down considerable after that and we continued talking more about it. I said to her "The fact that you can have such a heated arguement with me and still keep up shows me that you are ok" Since i started taking care of my mother, i have always been the one telling her what to do, so often that i have forgotten that underneath her illness lies a very sharp and intelligent woman, one i suspect could easily outwit me if not of her illness
Empty House
The house suddenly feels so empty. Its just me at home, with my mother lying on the bed, trying to sleep. My girlfriend is in hostel, my brother at his place and my dad in his own home and I don’t think my cousin will be coming back.
I’m kind of irritated with my cousin. He left the house without saying a word of thank you, or goodbye and neither did he tell us what to do with his toiletries, foods etc. There was once, he brought some apples over and put them in the fridge. Im sure his mother told him to bring them to eat, but he left it in there for over 2 months! The apple was all soggy and stinky when I threw it away. But there you have it, wonderful relatives, who come and stay for 2 years in your house, not needing to pay a single cent, not do a drop of housework, uses your computer like its his and leaves without saying a word of thanks and leaves behind a mutant apple in your fridge….again.
But I digress. The house feels empty…. Its not a wonderful house. It’s small. 2 rooms, 1 bathroom and a small balcony. When I first moved back into it 3 years ago, I had to adjust. For 7 years throughout my schooling years, I lived in a relatively comfortable house (double storey terrace) with 4 rooms, 3 baths and of course a little compound outside the house. Moving into a small flat, the issue of space became a big one. In our old house, there was plenty of space for everyones junk. Now, our junk was getting in the way of each other, and tempers flared a lot. Adding to the fact that we had to washing machine, no TV, no phone and internet connection, having to share all the space in a tiny house made things very uncomfortable. But after a period of time, it slowly became home.
Though it is a small house, it is the only place I can call home for now. I never imagined myself coming back to this small house again. When I moved into my fathers house to stay with his wife, things looked rather well for the future. They were both working people, and earned enough for us to be comfortable. We’d go shopping and we pretty much free to buy whatever we fancied, as long as it was reasonable. I didn’t have to worry much about cash, since I was always given enough. But at the end of my secondary school, things started to go downhill.
When I moved into this house, my father divorced his second wife (first was my mom) and went with the third. He didn’t have a job and they were in the food business together. The money was good, but it all went to his wife and her son, and I never so much of that money. My father would ask us to meet him late at night sometimes to pass us cash, but I always hated that for 2 reasons. Firstly, why did we have to sneak around and take money from him like a bunch of.. well.. sneaks… We were his children, and he had every right to support us. Why did we have to be so discreet about a father doing his duty towards his family? Why did all the money go to his wife and her son FIRST? and us, left to scavenge for what is left? Secondly, we never knew how long before he would give us more again. Whenever he passed us some cash, he would say “Spend it wisely.” But was that Rm1000 supposed to last 1 month or 3 months, I hated it because there was no answer.
So, moving into this house not only meant a change in living space, but also a change in our fortunes. Now, three years down the line, we are all still hanging in there. My fathers back with his wife, my brother is working now, my mother is with us and its just left me still studying. Its almost a miracle that we are still surviving. It’s a miracle that somehow we have had enough, though with little extra to live on. It reminds me of that bible story where (im fuzzy on the details) this prophet (or was it Jesus?) went to stay at a poor woman’s house for shelter. The woman complained that she didn’t have enough oil and flour to keep them surviving, but he promised that it will never run out. True enough, their jar of oil and flour never became empty as long as he was there. The lord provided for them literally.
I don’t know what kind of house and what kind of fortune I will be given in the near future. Many times I wish I was as lucky as the people I see around me. Many times I wish I was blessed with good fortune. But even if I am never blessed with the finer things in life, at the least, I wish that I am blessed with the company of the ones that I love most, that i be given the power to help those that matter most to me, to know that my existence has made a difference in their lives. If nothing else, I wish for them to be healthy. One thing I realized very very recently, through the struggles of friends around me, is that for all the material wealth that we posses in life, nothing is more precious and more worth sacrificing for than life itself.
A Gentlemen?
I have been told many times by people around me that i come across as very gentlemen like. Especially people who just met me. It seems, i give out the first impression of a well mannered, polite and perhaps a litttle innocent person. I have been told this repeatedly by new friends around me. But i have also been told that after a while of getting to know me better, i am not what i seem to be.
This happened again recently during my industrial training, where my fellow trainees had that perception of me. But 6 weeks down the line, they came up to me and told me that they didnt expect me to be like that. When i asked them what they meant, they said that on the exterior i appear quiet, very mild mannered, innocent and the more reclusive type. They didnt expect me to be too knowledgable about matters of society, sex and life in general. They kind of expected a 'good boy' straight from the farm/kampung. Wide eyed and trusting.
The most flattering part of it all was when they said that i keep quiet often, but actually was knowledgable in many things. Hehehe... though i dont think i deserved all those praises, it did make me feel good for a day. I found out that keeping my mouth shut actually spoke volumes more than talking will ever do. I must admit i actually held my tounge more with these friends than i normally would, trying to listen more than talk. Little did i know that my silence spoke louder than my words.
But i am at a lost actually. I dont know why people keep on getting that gentlemen perception on me. In all honesty, i am anything but one. Ask the people close to me and you would know that i am just a regular guy who monkeys around just like any other monkey/guy. But then again i guess the fact that i speak a little softly and not rowdily does play a small part. Im sort of in limbo. Im far from your super macho tough guy with that manly beard and no way am i your new age metrosexual with a peddicure and designer cloths. Im not your standard gentleman holding out doors for women and, impeccably groomed and charming with words. Im not your regular skinny science geek with big specs and an encyclopedia in hand.
What I am in my own eyes is this; i'm a jeans and t-shirt guy that hates to dress up. Im not talkative except with people im comfortablw with. I am very dry in my humour and enjoy good company. I dont speak foul language and try to behave accordingly in different social settings. When im meeting strangers, im polite. When im with my friends, i joke a little. When im with my loved ones, i just let it all hang loose and pig out! hehehe..
Im not ignorant to things that go on in life, or about sex or society. I have seen a little of the good and the bad of life, but i dont go around annoucing that i have seen and learnt these things. I choose to keep them close to my chest and reveal them to people i trust and people who are willing to share. i do not go around boasting how wise i am because that is the hallmark of foolishness! So friends, if you find that i am not what i appear to be, just know that i am what i am. Dig deeper and you'll find more.
How did it all happen?
Once upon a time, life really seemed like crap. Even now, it occasionally feels that way. But then, things happen and i am forced to look again and reconsider if my life is really that crappy. The way things have been turning out with my mother has really made me a happier person. The amazing part of it all is that, it all just sort of happen on its own, like chips falling into place. In the past, when we tried to do something to change the situation, it never worked out, but this time, it just happened. And there my mom is, right there at home , not 300kms away.
Another wonderful thing that happened within this 5 years is meeting my girlfriend. This year, we celebrated our 4th year of being together. But then i have never been sure if it just happened, or we sort of made it happen. For sure, this 4 years have not been easy with her. It really takes alot of sacrifice and hard work to make a relationship work. The part i am not sure of is at the start.
We met on a school trip. She was from a different school and we were put together in a group during the excursion. We hit it off immediately and chatted for the entire trip. By the end of the day, my friends were teasing me, betting that i would get her phone number. I knew i was attracted to this girl. There was someting very special about her. But i sort of had my pride to keep in front of my friends. I didnt want to come across as desperate. But i did feel desperate. Not to quickly get a girlfriend, but because i knew if i didnt do something NOW, i would most likely never meet this girl again! So i summed up the courage, swallowed my pride, and approached her for her number and took a picture of her. We kept in contact after that, but only got together a year later. Believe it or not, i actually asked her (to be my girlfriend) on our second date (which was only the 3rd time i met her) So , yeah love makes us do crazy things.
She likes asking me this question "It it was not me that came, but another girl on the day we met, would you have done what you did? Would you still have chased after her like you did me?" And i honestly have no answer to that! If it were some other pretty gal i met on that day, would SHE have become my girlfriend? I dont think so. But then again, if it was the same girl, and i didnt take the step of asking her out, would we have been together? I dont think so either. So in a way, the part im unsure about is this; On one hand, it seems like we were meant to meet on that day and to know each other. On the other hand, it seems like we would never have been together if i didnt boldly go up to her and ask her out.
Its ambiguous. Our destiny is in our own hands, but then it also happends according to its own course. She sometimes ask me "Do you think we are right for each other?" Sometimes, i wonder the same thing, ARE we right for each other? But then, somehow, i refuse to believe that we are all like puzzles, looking for our Mr or Ms Right that fits us perfectly, and if that person is not 'right' we move on continuing our search.
So i tell her "We are right for each other as long as you and I still want this relationship and are willing to work at it." I may be wrong in my conviction, seeing so many failed relationships around me, but for now, i remain an idealist.
Faith
Do you believe in God? Do you really really believe in God? To what extent? How much would you trust God? I have heard that a man of God wallks by faith, not by sight. Meaning, you should trust God's word and do what is required of you, even if it seems like it's leading to no good.
I saw a flier once, depicting this sentence. In it, there are 2 airplanes in front of a cartoon character. One was a beautiful plane, shiny and new. The other was a beat up and almost to pieces. The sentence below asked "Which one would you go on?" So, if i were to subscribe to walk by faith not by sight, and i was told that the torn up plane is the way to go, am i supposed to just go? To do what i am told is the way God has chosen for me and trust that it will not crash, against all my reasoning? And if i die on that plane, would it mean i died for a good cause, because i had faith?
I am not much of a man of faith and it is hard for me to believe that God would ask us to go against our own good conscience and judgement and just do whatever he asked us to. Does having faith mean that we are not allowed to question all that is given to us in life? If i had to go on a torn up plane. Should i just conclude that this is the plane God sent me, let us pray and have faith that God will see us through this journey? Is that the measure of faith? How much we are willing to ignore what we see, and just trust in God?
I must confess, i am a person that walks by sight. At times of hardship, i dont immediately turn to God for assistance. I admire friends who are able to immediately turn to God, pray and just truely believe that things will be better, and the fact that they prayed has made a difference. I find that almost impossible to do. Most of the decisions i made, most of the things i did, i did based on what i see.
I guess, in a way, the reason i havent found faith or complete trust in God is because i have yet to be truely convinced. Or rather, i have not convinced myself enough. I know throughout my life that in many ways, someone up there has been protecting me. I know that as it is, i should just accept God wholeheartedly, but there is still something that holds me back. A lingering feeling that tells me, "I want to be convinced. I want to be truely convicted." But have not been completely convinced. I need to see for myself the miracle of God, the miracle that everyone always says God has brought into their lives. Where is that miracle?
When i go to church, i feel more like an outsider. I feel like i somehow dont belong in this place. though i feel deeply drawn to try to establish some kind of contact with the man above, there seems to be that barrier. That barrier that makes me feel like i dont belong, that barrier that makes me unable to truely commune with the church people. I wished that i was already part of some church, already firmly integrated into its community, and truely living like part of it. But as it is, i feel more like I am on the outside, and there is some mental block that is preventing me from taking those few steps and entering His gates.
I have been told that to have faith, you will just have to believe. To just do and walk the path of a Christian, and the faith will come to you. But isnt that almost like brainwashing yourself? If i start to practice before truely believing, is that necessarily good? To just sing "God is good, God is great" first, then believe it later, is that how its supposed to work? To just believe first and be convinced later?
The road ahead
There are times in my life, when the road ahead just seems so empty and without direction. Though i know the people i love will always be there to help me and guide me ahead, i cant help but look back once in a while and hope i didnt miss anything.
To a Friend
Dear friend,
It’s been so long since we last met. I often wonder how you are doing now. It seems just not too long ago that you and I were best of friends, back then, when life was simple and uncomplicated. I would come to your house and read your magazines, and we’d go out in my dad’s van, buy a couple of burgers and chat till the break of dawn. You remember? Those were the simple times, those were the good times, when the only worry we had was homework and exams!
Before knowing you, I was never much of a chatterbox. I never had long winding conversations with my friends, never laughed and joked about anything under the sun and never shared much of my personal feelings with people. But getting to know you better somehow made me talk more. I felt good having a friend to talk to about serious matters as well as silly matters. And because I read a lot and you hardly read at all, it was mostly me filling you in with all the details about matters; it was always you asking me about a particular topic. From about being gay to why McDonald’s put pickles in their double cheese burger. It felt great to me how for the first time in my life, I was able to share and impart what I know with someone around me. Though this may sound arrogant, I felt that through me, you had your first glimpse of the wider world, one bigger than just you and your life. But now when I think back about those times, I realize one very startling truth. For all that I told you, for all that I taught you, it was I who was learning from you, not the other way round.
When I moved away from the neighbourhood, I knew you were sad to see me leave, though I felt that you would cope fine. I began reflecting on our friendship, thinking just how comfortable I was chatting around you, something I rarely did with other friends. I began to understand that it was because of how you are. You always let me do the talking, and when I spoke you were genuinely interested. You’d follow one question with another good question and listen tentatively. In short, you were a great listener. Something I never even tried to be. Though I have read about it, thought about it, it was you that demonstrated to me the power of listening and the true meaning of communication. Coming to college, most of my new friends are more talkers than listeners. Its hard to find a good friend, and even harder to keep one. Most of my friends in college don’t know much of my life. Only a small handful, and even to them I do not tell everything. I do not tell them about my mother and her illness, I do not tell them about my father and his numerous marriages, I do not tell them about my brother and his volcanic emotions, I do not tell them about my girlfriend and her past and I do not tell them about me and my sufferings. They have never asked nor dug deep enough to find out these truths from me. If you and I were still close, you’d be the first one to know all of these.
But even you, my first true friend have changed. Though you look the same and sound the same, you are but a small semblance of the person I used to know. Having seen the world with your own eyes instead of through my words, you have become distant to me. It is only natural that time would bring us apart and make us distant from each other. But you are now proud and aloof. Your show of sincerity does not feel genuine and you have become a poor listener. I have learnt from you and tried to be more of a listener, though I know I have much work to do. I cannot relate to you anymore, since you have created a happy world of your own again and seem interested in little else. Our last few conversation made me sick to the bone. You reacted with revulsion when I told you I travel by motorbike, as if it was beneath you to do such a thing. Maybe you find it difficult to accept since I was much better off when we knew each other. Heck, it was I that taught you how to drive. But I do not choose what is given to me in this life, but I make do with what little I am blessed with. God gave me an ill mother, but a mother nonetheless; He gave me a small flat to live in, but still a shelter; He gave me a demanding girlfriend, but one worthy of love and trust. I refuse to let these blessings be disgraced by your words, motorbike included. I may not drive around in a car or wear designer shirts, but because that cheap pasar malam shirt and junk of a motorbike were not given to me on a silver platter, I value them more than you would your $500 shirt.
It is sad for me to say these things to a friend like you. Perhaps underneath it all, you are still that same wonderful friend that I came to know. But that’s where my true friend is, underneath, buried by a mask of pride and social status. You do not know how it feels like to be looked down upon by people who think they are of a ‘higher class’. I learnt the hard way not to look down on people less fortunate. You think you are above that girl who works as a waitress at the restaurant or the man washing dishes. You think because you can afford better cloths and a bigger house and not need to work for a living, you are better then them. But those people have more heart and more courage than you know. Try being in their shoes for one day and you will meet many people like yourself. The look upon their face when they talk to you, the waiter, will show you just what they think of you. Only when you are looked down upon and made to feel less important will you realize the value of dignity.
My friend, I do not know what you have been through these few years that has made you like this. It is my hope that, the next time we meet, I will catch a glimpse of that wonderful person you used to be. I have missed having a friend, other than my girlfriend, to share and talk to. Once upon a time, you were that friend, but for now, I will continue searching.
Yours truly
Your friend
What i listen to
When I’m feeling nostalgic I listen to Radio by the carpenters
When I’m feeling naughty I listen to I’m too sexy by that whats his name?
When I’m feeling expressive I listen to Basket Case by Green Day
When I’m feeling a little crazy I listen to Because I got high by Afroman
When I’m feeling reflective I listen to Another day in Paradise by Phil Collins
When I’m feeling happy I listen to What a Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong
When I’m feeling I need to get away from it all I listen to Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day
When I’m feeling I want to go home, I listen to Take me home country road by John Denver (Though I don’t live in West Virginia)
When I’m feeling lonely, I listen to Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely by BSB
When I’m feeling like nothing can bring me down, I listen to Raindrops keep falling on my head by Burt Bacharach
When I’m feeling like going retro I listen to Y.M.C.A by I’m not sure who!
My mom and me
Today, i sent my mother to her doctors appointment. We rode on my motorbike to the clinic (took about 40 minutes!) and promptly arrived to see the doctor. But before we went in, we had to wait at the lounge before being called in. As we sat down on the couch, i couldnt help but notice the other people there to see the doctor also. There was another couple there. A young lady with an elderly man, and there was a lady, alone sitting further away. I wondered just who among these people were here to to the doctor and for what reason. It made me think that, maybe mental illness is not such a rare and odd occurance afterall. Maybe my family is just like other families as well. That mental is not a freak of nature, but something that could happent to any family afterall. It was both a comforting as well as a scary thought for me. ANY family. Even my own future family? The thought of that just sends chills down my spine.
The others around the room also couldnt really help staring at my mother either. She was having her regular twitches due to the side effect medicine. I have come to partially ignore it, not wanting to make a big deal out of it and give her additional stress. But most people who pass us by or see us cant help but stare at my mothers twitching. At the petrol station, at an eatery, walking on the street. My father used to try to get her to stop doing it. I understand, because it may be a little embarassing at times. But i realised that if this is how we felt, my mother would have felt it even more. At the clinic, i immediately wondered if she was aware that people were staring at her. I refrained from telling her to stop or commenting about it, not wanting to make her self conscious. I somehow came to the conclusion that she should not have to feel embarrased about it. if those staring have a problem, its theirs, not ours. I know one of the big reasons my mother isnt too eager to go to church is because of her side effects. She told me herself that she's so
malu (embarrased) to go to church, because then people would know that she is 'psychiatric case' I realised that this is not easy for her. From then on, i felt responsible to 'shield' her from these hypocritical church goers.
This easter and Good Friday, when i brought my mother and girlfriend to our old church (where my parents were married), we were approached by a couple that knew my parents in their youger days. To my mother the uncle said "Your son is a fine young man." but to me he quitely said "Your mother has put on alot of weight" Now, maybe im being a little to sensitive, but to me that was just plain wrong. I have never met you in my adult life, you havent seen my mother in 15 years, and the first thing you say to me is one of criticism of my mother! Needless to say, i didnt like him one bit and made little effort to hide that.
I feel so much for my mother. She has been this way for many years. She was a nurse in her younger days, specializing in psychiatric care. She wanted to help others like her, coming from a broken family. My grandmother was also severly mentally ill. My mother grew up not knowing much about her mother, only knowing that she was crazy and was sent to Tanjung Rambutan (a government psychiatric hospital for hardcore patients). My grandfather had a second wife, and my mother was sent to live with her cousins, where she was treated more like a maid that a relative. She was first to rise in the morning, last to eat, had to wash everones cloths. (so she tells me) When she was 12, she saw her cousin being knocked down by a lorry in front of their house. According to my father, when he met her, she was already a little depressed but managable. But things became worse when she gave birth. Even though her fellow nurses and doctors told her she was having signs of depression, she denied it. Only many years later did she finaly come to terms with it. I remember when i was 8 years old and my father moved out. My mother refused to take medication, and my father left, not able to take the pressure.
My father tells me of how she would run around naked in our current neighbourhood and he had to chase her with a towel, how she received electric shock treatment (at the head) and even had to be put in a straight-jacket to control her. He told me all these things were hidden from us to protect us. I realised that my mother was truely ill for a long time. It never occured to me when i was young. Afterall, all the way till i was 8, my mother took good care of us (or so i remember), making us sleep in time, eat our vegetables and do our homework. It was my dad that was the cheating, lying husband. Suddenly i felt almost sympathetic for my father for ahaving put up with it for 10 years of marriage.
When my father finally took us away from her to stay at my aunts place, she lived alone till now. Back when i was young, i used to be terried of seeing her show up. She would come to school, argue with the teachers, try to create a scene and bring us away. I would dread everyday wondering if my mother would show up in school. Sometimes when i did see her, i would quickly run away to avoid meeting her. It felt horrible having to run away from my mother, but i was just so programmed to think that she was the 'bad guy'. She would travels for miles to come and see my brother and I, and the first question i would ask her is "Why are you here?" Only much later would i regret these thoughts and actions.
In my secondary school years, i saw little of her. Only going up north to see her during the holidays. Those times were dreaded and it took alot of convincing on my fathers part before we agreed to go. My step-mother even restricted her calls to every tuesday nights. The rest of the days were off limits. Sometimes, she would travel all the way down to KL just to see us for a day. I hated when she did that, because to me it was a nuisance. I felt that i didnt need a mother. I had been without one for so many years. She caused me so much pain and suffering, i didnt want to forgive her. In my angriest moments, i would shout at her "I hate you, and i will never forgive you for what you have done to us." I felt that all these problems in my life were her fault because she was ill and she refused to admit it. I felt that i was robbed of a happy childhood, one that all the kids around me seem to be enjoying. I felt that i didnt deserve to suffer all these heart ache, because i deserved a happy childhood.
Somehow, for some strange reason, or perhaps there was higher powers at work, i slowly changed. I anger and hatred towards my mother slowly faded away as i entered my teens. Being forced to call my step mother 'mak' (means mother) served as a constant reminder to me that i DO have a real mother, and that i was neglecting her and calling someone else mom. Her absence of her calls made me realise just what i am missing. I wanted her to stop calling, and when she eventually did stop, i found myself hating what i wished for. The trips up north because a self imposed responsibility. I started keeping her letters, reading them again and again. I hated myself for not takinga any action, leaving her to live all alone, but i was unable to act. I felt like a small boy, not able to influence the situation. So instead, i kept her letters hoping that it would not be the last i receive. Fearing that something would happen to her before something good happens to her for a change. That was when the guilt set in, that was when i started carrying an invisible, yet ever present burden on my shoulders. When i was alone, i thought of her, when i was sad i thought of her, and worse of all, at my happiest moments i would think of her. I would think to myself "Here i am having a good time, enjoying life. But where is your mother Eu-Hann? Where is she right now? Who is she with? WHile you are laughing and playing, what have you done about your mother, who wants nothing more but to stay with you and be around your life?" She said to me she was even willing to be our slaves as long as we let her stay with us. Memories like that crush your heart. But you would never know that that was going on in my mind. You would only see plain old Eu-Hann, saying his dry jokes and chatting away.
There are many things i have said to my mother over the years that i regretted. Yet, there is no way for me to take it back. I only know that i must try my best to make her comfortable and happy where she is. I plan to go to the UK to find work once i graduate there, and stay there for a good many years. Though i dont know if this plan will work out, i have told it to my mother. Her response was "When you go to UK, i will be so lonely. What will i do?" I have no answer to that. I feel torn between pursuing my ambitions and trying to make a better life for myself in the future and taking care of my mother as best i can. How do i leave her here in Malaysia and still claim i am taking care of her? How can i bring her along with me if i dont even have a footing of my own?
LOVE
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
1 Corinthians 13 4-7
A big thank you!
Let me blog about this blog
I started this blog about 2 years ago (has it been that long?) and like it says at the top, its for everyone, and its for no one. You should know that most of the people i write about in this blog dont really know or care or read this blog. I have tried of previous attempts to record my life on paper on conventional journals, but nothing lasted as long as this.
It feels strange blogging. I write with the knowledge that it will be read, but i know it will make no difference. It's encouraging getting words of encouragement from total strangers. It baffles me even more thinking that there are people actually willing to slowly read through my endless nonsense and complaining. But those words of encouragement from total strangers makes me feel less lonely, and that the world is not selfish and heartless afterall.
There are times in my life when it feels like i have no one to turn to, no place to go for comfort, no shoulder to lean on. Friends around are there for you to a certain extent. No one can be everything to you. I started this blog on a whim, seeing how it was the latest craze. Since i wrote alot of personal stuff in it, i didnt go around promoting it or telling people about it. But 2 years down the line, reading my old blogs, from the earliest to the latest, i realise just how significant it has been. It has not recorded all the events thoroughly, but it has capture much of my emotion It has capture in a few thousand words over these 2 years thoughs and feelings that have laid deep within me even until today. You will be surpised that many of the things that i wrote here have never been repeated to the people around me. In that sense, this blog is a small little world of my own.
To anyone who has read my blog, thank you for you time. I feel honoured that among the millions upon millions of things you could do right now, you choose to read my thoughts and my mind. The knowledge that i have shared my burden out here gives me the strength and the freedom to soldier on in my struggle
That crazy roller coaster ride: My life
Just a quick recap of whats happening in my life.
After that last episode of running away from home, my mother eventually came back to us after a week or so. Its so strange. I had totally given up hope on her, thinking "There she goes again" But she surprised me by coming back. So she's back with us now.
But the us has been reduced somewhat. My brother only comes back on the weekends, since he is working far away, and so does my girlfriend. My dad on the other hand has gone back to his wife (I mean my step mother) THis came as a surprised to me because he had moved out last year and it really looked like they were headed for a break. Suddenly one day, he tells me he spoke to that lady and they decided that they want to give it another chance.
My brother was colde towards that. He has been harbourinh hopes that my father would end that miserable relationship and quickly come back to CHristianity. So, my dad going back to his Muslim wife is quite a blow to his efforts.
Personally, i was worried about how things were going to turn out with this new development. After about half a year of staying with us, i could sense my father's cofidence slowly growing back. He didnt look as old as before, his expression less burdened and for once in many years, he was slowly but surely starting to have a social circle of his own. Heck, just before he went back to his wife, he even started closing deals in his work, and it really seem that things were starting to turn for the better. The fact that after 6 months of trying to close deals, he finally closed a few in row in one month was no accident. I told him "Pa, to me these deal that you are closing is no coincidence. You have closed them now and not 6 months ago because today, you are more confidant, and you are happier." I really felt happy for him. I could see that these small achievements were significant to him in building a new life after 3 shattered marriages.
Now, about a month gone back there, those age lines have return. He speaks to me with a heavy tone. I can tell that he is unhappy again. As soon as he starteed closing deals, he stopped closing them, thus the financial worry for me now. I told him i respected his decision to give his marriage another chance, but from the looks of things, nothing much has changed. I feel so sorry for him. His heart is in a mess, and there are greater things at stake in that marriage that i know of im sure. My cousin finished his final exams and it would probably mean that he's moved out of our place.
How fast things changed. 2months ago, the houe was so unbearble. There seem toomany people. But now its just mostly me and my mother. The house feels almost lifeless. But then, i'm enjoying the time spent with my mother. Since my teens, i have not had my mothers presence, but now i have the responsibility of taking care of her and keeping her company. THough it may difficult at times, but i no longer have sleepless nights thinking of my mother, no longer cry silent tears thinking how i will ever make it up to her. Just hearing her laugh, joking around, bringing her for walks and buying breakfast for her makes me happy. Only now, when i have my mother around do i realise just how much a mommy's boy i am. For many years, staying away from her, i have felt the guilt of neglecting her, but now that she is there right beside me, i have all the chance to do something for a change.
Life truely is a roller coaster ride to me sometimes. The ups and downs come in quick succession, and you dont really know where or when the next turn comes. Just hold tight and pray that you dont fall off, and neither the other passengers, all of whom have been there with you through the ups and downs.
Some quick facts about me!
- I’ve have gone clubbing only once in my life
- I’m allergic to crabs
- I’ve never smoked in my life
- I get drunk easily
- I still read Doraemon comics!
- I hate watching Barney the stupid purple dinosaur
- I am pro-sesame street
- My name Eu-Hann actually means John
- I never finished watching Titanic
- I deliberately avoided watching Pearl Harbour
- I change the channel a lot
- I don’t snore
- I can’t really swallow (tablets!)
- I can’t dance
- I can’t sing
- I have never sat in a plane
- I have never went on a holiday
- I used to have stage fright
- I like reading
- I don’t know how to use mIRC
- I don’t like my voice
- I don’t like my cheeks
- I like photography
- I don’t have a camera
- I would like to meet a Japanese girl
- I have seen Home Alone way too many times.
- I DON’T LIKE Mawi (with that Mamee commercial)
- My house doesn’t have Astro
- I’m born in the year of the Ox. My zodiac sign is Leo
For further elaboration, drop me a comment
That’s all for now folks!
When money is not a problem
When i was younger, my dad used to bring us around very up-class, beautiful housing areas. He'd tell us "One day, when money is not a problem, we can have this." We'd indulge in what kind of house we wanted, what dog we would keep, how our bedrooms would be decorated
Its ten years since, and money is very much still a problem
Learning to do better
I walk down the street.
There is a hole.
I don't see it.I fall in.
It isn't my fault.
It takes a very long time to get out.
I walk down the same street.
There is still a deep hole.
I pretend not to see it.
I fall in.
I pretend it's still not my fault.
It takes a long time to get out.
I walk down the same street.
There is still the same deep hole.
I see it.
I fall in anyway.
It's a habit.
I get out quicker this time.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole.
I see it.
I walk around it.
I don't fall in.
I walk down a different street.
Portia Nelson
