Forthnights

There and back again.... by Frodo Baggins.... ok.. not really......

There she goes……..

She left the house on Sunday. That night, I stayed up late, didn’t sleep actually. I burnt the midnight oil, doing my long overdue thesis. By 5a.m. I was exhausted, and crashed into bed.

8a.m. in the morning, I receive a call from an unknown number; turned out to be her. She had arrived up north and was now in a cousins house. I was still angry at her, and didn’t want to say much. From the sound of it, she wasn’t really welcomed there any more. She said to me that my brother had instructed me to go pick her up from the bus station when she came down. I was annoyed. Did my brother really say that? If he did, why didn’t he tell me directly? And what made him think I was even willing to pick her up? She said she might come back within these 2 days. I told her to talk to my brother, I didn’t want to deal with it. I told her to only inform me when she knows when she is coming back.

So I spent the rest of the morning doing my work, finally feeling productive for a change. In fact, I did more work in that one night and morning than I did the entire week she was here. Though I did feel worried, at least I knew she was alright, and I had time to myself for a change.

My father came by in the afternoon, and I spoke to him. I told him how I didn’t like the way my brother has been acting. He said one thing, but did another, and he has not shown to me his commitment in taking care of her. Instead, he sulks and screams when my father and I don’t be nice to her. I said I understand his concern about being nice to her. But try being in my shoes dealing with her day in and day out and lets see how you fare. I didn’t like the fact that my brother always claimed moral righteousness over us all. As if w all lack the kind of understanding and morality he has. I said it was hypocritical of him. Just look at how he treats his dog. He beats the hell out of the poor dog when it does something wrong, but barely an hour later, he tries to kiss and hug the dog, and when the dog refuses, he forces it, or he gets angry again. No wonder the dog is confused!

My father said to me that he was worried about my brother. In his observation, my brother was emotional. Too emotional, and soft. My brother is not someone who can handle complicated matter. In all that he does, he strives for a simple answer, he tries to make life as simple and as harmonious as he can. We both agreed that my brother is an idealist. I consider myself a realist and whenever my brother goes on and on about the ‘perfect’ family that he envisions, ‘just like last time’, I just roll my eyes and keep quite. Sorry, but I don’t think those times will ever come again. The fact is, according to my father, my brother doesn’t know what to do either. He doesn’t know how to handle my mother. He is just putting up a brave front, and he insist that we all talk nicely and be polite, to give it the illusion that everything is fine and dandy. That is why he rather shout at me for arguing with my mother, accusing me of making things worse, than actually doing something about my mothers condition, like sending her to a hospital. He choosing to just let her go is trying let the problem solve itself. It might work for now. But for how long? What happens when the next relapse comes? Don’t say you hope it doesn’t, IT WILL.

My father said my brother needed something to hold on to. If not he would break. He said we must not challenge his when he tries to be idealistic and righteous, because if you break that and take it away from him, he has nothing to anchor to. Well, I understand his concern. He’s worried that my brother will break and become ill too. Its not that remote a possibility. My mothers family has a history of mental illness, and we are her children. I am as at risk to mental illness as he is. He predicted that if my mother stayed with my brother, he would continue to be nice to her, until such time when he cant take it anymore, then he would start to turn aggressive. “And that is when we have to step in. We have to watch him very carefully.” In the mean time, I am just fuming at my brothers lack of willingness to take her in.

I felt a little guilty and relieved at the same time. I was finally able to do the things I needed to do wholehearted without any distractions, but it was short lived….

There she is again………..

Then, I get a call from her at 4p.m. saying that she was back in KL. She asked me if I was able to pick her up. I told her no, since I was in college, busy. I told her to go back on her own. It was just as well, since I wasn’t ready to pick her up anyway. I informed my brother about the matter. He asked me to just put up with her for the time being until he has something planned out. He was busy at the moment. He said to me not to bother her, just let her do her own thing. I said the problem is not me leaving her alone. I can leave her alone. I can even leave her totally alone, and just be away all the time. The problem is that she wont leave ME alone.

When I came back, she was back too. But she looked more settled somewhat. I don’t know, maybe it was just an itch waiting to be scratched. And not that its gone, she settles down. As promised, I left her alone. I didn’t ask her where she went, I didn’t ask why she came back so soon, or anything at all. Later I spoke to my brother again. He told me earlier that he would take her within the week. I asked him when, but he wasn’t ready to give me any answer. He said he was busy now during the week, maybe closer to the weekend. The weekend? That beats the point doesn’t it? Did I not say that this 2 weeks were critical to me? If you take her this Friday, you might as well not take her, because my work is due Saturday. He had the cheek to tell me to just don’t bother about her. EXCUSE ME, you are supposed to take her to your place. You said so yourself. Now, you backtrack on your words and offer me advice on how to ignore her and get on with my work?

All he was willing to say was he will take her by the week. If I can, please try to just put up with her, after all, she’s really ok…..

Yeah right.

Under his orders, I gave my mother half her medication to take on her own. Now that she’s back, she has her medicine with her still. You ask me to leave her alone, fine, I’ll leave her alone. I wont bother about her, I wont supervise her medication, I wont make her eat her it, I wont buy dinner or lunch for her, I wont do anything. The whole purpose of him taking her there was for him to do all these duties I have been doing. I meant it when I said I cant afford to deal with her right now.

But we live in the real world. As much as I try to leave her alone, to not be bothered by her, it just doesn’t work that way. Only in my brothers imaginary world. She still comes to my room, babbling all sorts of nonsense, even when I totally ignore her and continue what I am doing on the computer. She walks around the house in her panties, and when I scolded her, she turns around and says that its ok, since she’s my mother. You call that ok?

You seriously tell me to just ignore her and make as if she’s not there. Let her be, do your own things. The only time I can do that is when she is REALLY not there.

It amazes me. Despite the ruckus I have been making to my brother and father about the matter, despite me expressing repeatedly that I am at the end of my energies, that this time is of the essence to me, my brother STILL has not shown his commitment in helping me out. He is still trying to salvage something, trying to push for me to just accept things as they are, and put up with it, so that he doesn’t have to.

And here I am again…. Back to square one….

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 9:56 pm Comments: 1

Gone with the wind!

What a looong weekend....

By friday, my mother was getting really aggressive. Without the slightest provocation she starts going into rages, shouting and screaming at me.... I made it clear the night before that i wanted her out of my hands... So my brother came on friday to talk to her...

Earlier, i went to the nearby clinic to talk to a doctor known to her... She had gone to him 2 months earlier to get her medication, albeit for free. This time, i went to see him in his clinic and explained to him the situation. He listen, and just gave me 2 months supply of her medication, for free. I was really grateful, because though i had brought some back to pay for it, i really didnt have much to give at all... So that was one good thing that happened.

When i got home, my brother and father was back. He went to see a psychiatrist recommended by his friend, and gave me a bottle of similar medication, only in syrup form. He told me to use it when she is refusing medication. I gave my brother her medication for him to administer to her, i had enough of it already. I didnt want to deal with it. So he made coffee and some bread for her to eat. I was with them at the time. She refused to drink it, screaming, resisting, crying, pleading..... I kept quite, and when i couldnt take it anymore, i scolded her telling her to just drink up. My brother in turn lost his temper, but at me , and shouted at me to stop making the situation worse.... just go out and do my own thing....

So i just walked out of the room...pissed off... at her and at him.... Ya... you can do that now.. try doing it for the next 2 months.. ive had my turn... lets see how you do it.. since you are so great. I have moved pass the stage when i try being all polite and civil about the matter.... She needed her medication everyday, and i chose the way most efficient... coercion..... Its not pleasant.. but it gets the job done.... I cant afford to be pestering and badgering her for an hour every day..

So i let him be.. and just stayed outside the room..... He said he will come back on Sunday to TRY to take her along.... He said the medicine was supposed to be fast acting. "Give it some time. Already she is a bit more calm." WHAT? i thought... i see no such thing...... She's not calm.. you are lying to yourself... you think you just give her that medicine one time and she already calm? I had my doubts, but i agreed to at least give it a shot.

So he left by the evening, going to some gathering... how fun.... So i pretty much let her be for the rest of the night.

The next morning, my father came by. I tried giving her her medication. She still did not know about the syrup.... So i dripped it into coffee.. took some bread and offered it to her... Naturally she refused...... But this time, she was hysterical... started screaming and shouting at me.. trying to snatch the cup away from me.. She was seated and i was standing.. in the living room.. father present... The more i pressured her to take the drink, the more she resisted... to the point where she started to kick me.. and i fell backwards.... coffee spilling all over me..... oh yes... she's much calmer.. i can see how right my brother was.... She said i was crazy.. she said i was mad... SHe said God would punish me for abusing my mother... that i would have a short life because of the things i have done to her...... I just wanted to give her a tight slap...

But i just walked away... went to the kitchen and took the mop..... She ran back into her room and locked it.... Mopping up... i told my father.."you go back and tell my brother all that you just saw... you tell him what i have been going through every single day." I told him i really cant take it anymore...... She needs to be stabilized.. she needs to be admitted... The more i spoke to him.. the more i grew angry.. As if all the anger and frustration brewing inside finally finding a controlled release. In a way, i was glad my father was there to witness that drama unfold.... At least someone could bear testimony to what i go through.. and tell my brother.. .so that instead of being told im making the situation worse... or that i am doing a bad job.. i can get some emphaty from him instead......

I didnt bother trying to give her her medication for the rest of the day... Ive had enough drama for the day.. I finally got my room door locked with a pad lock... i knew she was really going desperate to get away, She was coming into my room,searching for her key.. I installed the lock to prevent her from snooping... When i came back in the evening..... i found that the door had been hacked at.. She had tried using some hard object to break the lock... My brother called.. and i told him what had happened. Of course, my father did too.. so i didnt have to say much... I told him very frankly
She needs to be admitted... I dont have the strength or the energy to tend to her anymore. Tomorrow, if you do not take her.. i will personally see that she gets admitted.. either by force or through the police... if you dont want that.. i will return her the keys.... and let her go.. But let NO ONE say that i haven been irresponsible...." I knew from my father that my brother was eager to her her go....

My girlfriend sees it as a cowards way out... an irresponsible decision... I didnt want to make any harsh judgement... as tempting as it is put my brother down. I just said to her... I dont know.. i dont care.. i dont have the energy to deal with it....... Its his choice... I have made it clear to him that its his call.... She is his responsibility now.... My brother said he will give it some thought and tell me in the morning......

Come Sunday morning... he came to the house with my brother... I could see the stress on his face.. SO many times, i doubt if my brother is able to handle the pressure.. He was easily agitated... raising his voice at me and even my brother........ My mother was again at it, asking this and that accusing this and that.. I just said to her.. "Mind your own business.." .. again.. i get a blasting from him... "Stop making matters worse.".. Now i was really angry.. so i just kept my silence.... I wont make matters worse.. one way or another.. i wont be dealing with her after today... ill see to that if you cant..... She's worse that ever.. and its not because of me.. She's out of control...

So i let them be.. and she just spoke to my brother.. God knows saying all sorts of bad things about me.. Finally my brother came to me and said her was letting her go.. asked me to give half her medication and her house keys.. I said nothing.. i just gave it to him...... Its his choice.... not mine... now that it was his turn to care for her... he has decided to let her go... its the easy way out.... of that i am sure.. i could have done that weeks ago myself....... BUt i did want to say anything.. when i said it was his choice... i meant it.

He even had the cheek to ask me to send her to the bus station in town... I wasnt going to encourage it! She wants to walk off... thats fine... now you want me to send her? No way! BUt luckily, it was raining.. so i couldnt send her. So he decided to send her instead... well fine by me.. ....

If it were up to me.. I would be tempted to just show her to the door and not give her the key at all.... You want to go... GO.... Dont come back.............. though i know i will regret it...

So just like that she was gone.. She packed her bags.. and just walked out the door with my brother.. No goodbye.. no take care.. not even any eye contact.. i could have been invisible and it wouldnt matter...

And then silence.....


Im having mixed feelings now..... I am relief...... i can finally concentrate on the things i need to get done... I feel a big burden off my shoulder... BUt the fact that she's out on her own.. and not with my brother is disturbing me...

As many times as i said "I dont care.".. i still do..... though i so desperately wanted her away from me... deep down.. i wanted her safe.... My brother was the ideal solution... I wanted him to take her.... But over the week ... it became more and more obvious that he wasnt willing to make that sacrifice.. not when it was an inconvenience to him.. Talk of having church camps.... this and that all started coming....


Regardless of his reasons.. he didnt want to take her..... He decided it was better for her to just go and do whatever she feels like doing and wait for her to return when she is satisfied.

How do i feel? Relieved.... but guilty..... Silence is still a word... Inaction is still an act........ When i fail to do what i feel is right.. when i just allow my brother to let her go.. am i not responsible for what happens too? What will happen to this world if we all keep silent in the things we see that are wrong? What happens when we all close an eye to injustice? I did that.... in my tiredness... weariness....in my frustration.. in my anger...in frustration... weakness..... i closed an eye..... i let something slip deliberately....something as important as my mother's safety.. It might prove inconsequencial..... but if something happens to her....... i know it is my fault... because i kept quiet and let it happen.. when i could have done something...

There is no such thing as absolute freedom...... the body may be free to roam.. but the heart remains caged by guilt, by fear.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 11:13 pm Comments: 1

It just goes on and on.....

No need to elaborate much... had another horrible day..... again.... I think i should start blogging about the good days instead of the bad... since the bad days come on a daily basis while the good ones happen only once in a while.....

As usual, had a crappy time arguing with my mother... But i tried keeping it to the minimum. I know she wont eat the food i buy, but i just did anyway. I cant stand to really neglect her and not provide for her. If she doesnt want to eat, its her choice, not because i didnt do my duty. I dont know where she gets the energy from. She refuses to eat her high blood pressure medicine. She told me that she ate oats today, and didnt eat much salt, so she didnt need to. What kind of reasoning is that? I told her thats not how it works... but she just screamed at me again.

So i got my brother on the phone, and i told him in no uncertain terms that i DO NOT want to handle her anymore. But he's taking forever to come to my aide. I told him i was hoping he would take her by the weekend. But he went on about how he was a church camp to deal with etc, and that he wont be at home. Well, church camp or no, i told him that if he's going to take any longer, he might as well not take care. After all, i need the entire week uninterrupted till Saturday. If he's going to take her on Friday night, might as well not. He then goes on to ask me how long he should be taking her....

I didnt really have an answer for him, neither did i even think of it... take her for the rest of the year for all i care. But if even before taking her he starts asking me how long she's going to be there, what kind of message is that sending me?

So after repeating myself to him, after describing to him just how stressed out i am, how crucial a time it is for me, he finally agrees to take her out of my hands.... hopefully by the end of the week.. but even then, he refuses to give me a certain answer. "Lets play it by ear" he says. Since when did u start using phrases like that? Play by ear? What does that mean? To just see how it goes? If it suits you, then you take her, if not you leave her?

Anyway... the point is he has agreed to take her, its just how long he takes to actually do it thats bothering me now, and it beats the point if he's going to take forever.......

He then goes on about how i should talk to my mother (again)... "Dont argue with her.. Dont affirm nor deny her hallucinations.." he goes on and on about some of the things i should be aware of when talking to her since my mother is not normal.... well... thanks for the advice.... it really helps alot..... its so simple, i wondered how come i never tried it sooner.

But really, it makes me so sad looking at her like that. I come home, open the door and see her lying down on the floor in the room. The silence in the house, and the sight of her just lying down alone, not saying a word...... it just gets to me... to just say 'i'm sad' is an understatement. In truth, i am broken hearted.... even right now...... Every single time i have to be see her in her state, everytime i get dragged into a shouting match with her, i feel a piece of my heart crushed. Maybe i am cruel to her, maybe i am being to cold and uncompassionate..... but it affects me too..... I never wanted to have a mother like that... i never wanted for her to be ill.... but for all of her faults... she means to much to me.... The state she is in affects me so much because she is dearest to me... I feel the need to control her so tightly... because i am most afraid of what will happen to her without me.....

I know if it were my brother facing the situation, he would have given up, letting her just go... He asked me how long he's supposed to keep her, and what to expect next... i just said "Hope for the best. If she doesnt get out of her relapse, she's going to need to be hospitalized."

How come no one invented pain killers for the heart? It hurts really bad......

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 3:05 am Comments: 1

So much for swapping

Well, i dont know what happened, but suddenly swapping parents seem like a remote possibility.

I was busy doing work at home when my mother came over to my room, going into her rage again. This time around, she wanted her keys again. Of course, i didnt give it to her. Instead she said she just wanted to go out for a walk.Its been 2 weeks of locking her up at home......

Has it been that long? It feels more like 2 years to me. Anyway, i was really really tired of dealing with her. I was busy as hell doing a thesis due next saturday, and now this. She really just stood in front of my door and started blasting non stop for the next 10 minutes, right in front my friend, going on and on about how my father is evil, wants to kill her, the nuggets in the fridge is poisonous etc etc... you get the point....

So i just told her to speak to my brother. I said if she could convince him to agree, i will let her go, no questions asked. I got him on the phone, and he spoke to her for almost 20 minutes, mostly arguing... At least its not me arguing with her... i selfishly thought.

In the end, when i got back on the phone with my brother, he just pushed in back to me..."I dont know... its up to you.. Talk to her nicely...... If you decide to let her go, just inform me..." So i decided, NO... im not going to let her go in this state... if she can be screaming and shouting with the 2 of us.. who knows what she can be up to outside. She refused to tell me all that she plans to do outside, and when i asked her to promise me she would be back, she refused to say anything. She said that she had plans of her own, and she will inform me accordingly if they work out. She said i do not trust her. "Precisely, i dont trust you. I dont see any transparency on your part. I wont let you go until i see it."

That was when he dropped the bomb on me. "So are you going to take her this week or not?" i asked. He said to me "Its the same what.. she will still be like that even when she is here. Some more, i'm at home lesser than you, and there is nothing here for here. No fridge, no facilities etc..." I was speechless......

I had briefed him earlier about her medication running out, so he had to either bring her to the hospital by friday or get some fresh supplies. He then tells me that he cant bring her... Earliest next week. Instead, he asked me to take care of it.... I didnt want to argue since my friend was there.

Later, i spoke to my father and asked him about the situation. I had made it clear 2 days ago that i had enough, that i cant and dont want to deal with it any more. Im at my limit, and i am really trying to pull things together, doing my thesis, assignments and course work.... i cant stand having to put up with her antics on a daily basis. Its taking a toll on me.. on my energy.... energy so urgently needed other places. He told me that my brother was less than enthusiastic about receiving her there. He said my brother seemed more eager to just let her go and have her way............ I told him that if my brother was not willing to shoulder the responsibility, then i might as well just do whatever she wants.... why am i trying so hard? Why am i in this alone? My father told me he was tired about the situation. I asked him "Why are you exhausted? You dont even have to deal with her. If you are tired, imagine how i feel... im exhausted." Well, i pretty much get the picture. My brother is reluctant for her to go to his place, since it would mean trouble for him, inconvenience for him.... Makes me sick... when she was alright just a month ago, he was demanding that i bring her to his place every weekend! And now that she's not ok, he says to me "Its the same anyway... she'll still be like that."

The same? THE SAME? No...it wont be the same.... The difference is... she'll be there.. with you for a change... someone ELSE to put up with the emotional turmoil instead of me....... Did i not say i had enough? Did you not say you will be there to bail me out if i needed it? did you not jokingly said we would tie her up and drag her to the hospital if he had to? Now that i am finally asking for help, for a bail out.. .why are you forsaking me? Its the same anyway??

He tells me that he cant bring her to the hospital until next week... Her medication runs out this friday! Did i not make that clear? He told me to contact the doctor friend in the nearby clinic to ask for advice..... "Can you do it?" he aske me.... "I have to do it.... I dont have a choice. We cant let her go without her medication." So now, again its left to me to either bring her to the hospital or buy some from somewhere.... But i already said... i cant afford to be tending to her right now.. .But that is precisely what i am stuck with..........

Im just so angry... so disappointed... Knowing that my brother is reluctant to take over from me. I know its a large burden to carry... and i know just how much it can really affect you.. psychologically, socially, mentally, emotionally. I am experiencing it first hand. But he really needs to understand that i need to pass the baton to him.. and he has to take it.... If you leave me standing there, if you leave me to hold the fort all on my own without the support you promised, i will break. I kid you not, I WILL BREAK. Its fine enough when things are alright. You ask that she comes over to stay, you ask that I send her.... you ask that i be nice to her.... you make cameo appearances here and there...... which is really fine, since she gives me no trouble anyway...

But at a time like this, when it feels more like dealing with Medusa for a mother, i find myself standing alone. So you continue to do whatever hell you wish to.. Go watch movies... go have drinks with your church buddies... i know they have treated you well....especially recently... I have nothing against them.. I am grateful that they have given you support. But at a time like this, you should really be here with me, taking the bull by its horns, facing the fire first hand... Not be some cheerleader, some motivation guru, telling me to do this or that. I need you to be there supporting beams, as walls come crashing down on me.. Not standing at the side, indisposed, tell me "Hey, watch out! Be careful!"

I'm going to have another talk to him.. My friend asks me why i cant be nice to her like my brother is... Hmmm.. Maybe its because im a mean, cold hearted ass..... Or maybe........ thats not a fair question at all.... I have been taking care of her every damn day for the entire year. I have been there, taking the full blow, the full impact of her relapses for the entire year. No one in my family, other than my mother herself, is affected by this relapses tmore than me. How about she stay with you instead? and I make a cameo appearance once or twice every few weeks. LEts see if you are still so flowery and nice. I have avoided going out late nights, i have made commitments to come home often enough, i have turned invitations down, i have avoided bringing friends home, for her.... but excuse me if i cant always mind my manners. What have you done? Yes, you have provided the cash. For that we are indebted to you. But more than money, we need your presence, we need your support.

As if i cant stress it enough times.. i really really am so tired. There is a word in mandarin... which i cant think of an equivalent in english. Ma Muk..... it means to feel pain so much, so often that your senses become dull, and you cant even feel anything anymore. Kind of like being pinched so many times, you cant feel the pain anymore. Or eating spices so hot, you cant even feel your tongue. Well.. thats how i feel like right now... I have been pinched, been kicked in the teeth, been taken for an emotional roller coaster ride, so long, so often, i forget how everything else feels like. I dont feel sad to tears, but i cant genuinely laugh too. I feel like a zombie.. like an undead... the body continues... but the soul is missing.... i am missing heart in the things i do. Every other minute, i hear myself sigh. I feel my heart heavy with burdens. I suddenly get anxious, worrying about this and that, and i have become more forgetful (more than usual, which is really bad). I stare in front of the empty blog page, just wondering how to start crystalizng my feelings into words, only to still be staring at a blank page 30 minutes later.

Suddenly i have this urge to go to Church. I will confess that i have never ever known how it feels like to be part of a church... to attend prayer meetings... to have fellowship with people.. to just be part of that social circle. But till today, there remains some invisible barrier, someting stopping me from going. Fear, shame, guilt, shyness... the list just goes on and on. I dont even know if i will ever start attending church...... Then i wonder.. do i want to go to Church because i genuinely want to know God? Or is it because i feel lonely and want to get to know more people? My brothers car was fixed recently only throught the help of his church members. They all chipped in some, and managed to raise the sum needed for the repairs. I respect that. I envy that. Because i know I will NEVER know how that feels like.......to have a group of steadfast, loyal and caring group of brothers and sisters to catch you when you fall...

As much as i love my friends.. i doubt i could ever expect that out of them. Its not their fault.. its just the way they are.


They i ever tell you that i always wanted a sister? I still do actually, but that became impossible years and years ago. I always wanted to experience how it felt like to have a sister... I have friend with older sisters... and its just so nice having one... they care for you, they take care of you in a way no older brother can.. and i have friends with younger sisters... and thats even nicer! You get to be big brother, you get to dote them, you get to chase away the hordes of boys after them. I was tempted to take up a 'god'-sister in the pass. But everyone seem to be just using it as a silly excuse to get to the girl they like, so since the title was so watered down, i didnt want to do it. That plus the fact that i could find a suitable candidate. Either they werent my 'sister' material... or i didnt think they would like having a 'brother' like me. How come i dont have a sister? Again, pure exercise in futility.

But i digress.

If my brother can take such a hands off approach... what on earth am i doing? If he can do it, maybe i should just do the same.. I can just say.."I dont know.. i dont care." Why should i be sweating and aching when they just remain indifferent, comfortable with the status quo... Me handling her when she's sick, and send her to him when she's fine. You know something..... Nice guys always finish last..... Nice guys never get the girl...... Nice guys never win, because they are too nice about knocking others down. Nice guys always get stuck with the worse deals.... Everyone always assumes the nice guy will be fine. "Oh.. Eu-Hann.... I know him....he's a nice guy......"

I'm doomed.....

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 2:57 am Comments: 0

Swapping mom for dad

So finally, i did tell my brother and father.

"I've had enough. I dont want to deal with her anymore. I cant afford to come home everyday facing this. Ive got things i need to do, ive got studies to deal with, ive got a thesis to write due next week."

Well, they didnt offer much resistance.. My brother just agreed, and hopefully within this few days, my brother and i will 'swap' parents.....She'll go there and he'll come here.

She doesnt want to, and when i told it to her, she refuses, saying that she is capable of taking care of herself here. Just now, i had to knock on her door for 15 minutes just to get her to open the door, just to ask her to take her medication. I cant afford to be putting up with all this trauma at a time like this. Its bad enough that i have problems of my own, conflicts of my own, demons of my own; having to deal with her now is just not an option from me.

Her medication is running out. But i have briefed my brother about it, and i have told HIM to take her to the hospital for a change. I dont want to do it. My father asked me "Why? Are you so tired of dealing with her already?" My asnwer was a definite yes.

Read my lips... I AM TIRED.... I AM EXHAUSTED... emotionally.... spiritually....
I need an instant boast of morale... i need dose of positive energy.... I need to be surrounded by positive people... or at the least, people who care... But then, almost everyone around seems to be suffering from some sort of problem.....

I find myself staring at the ceiling, lost in the music, staring at my phone; waiting for someone, anyone to make some sort of connection to me. Its ironic; the cell phone. 24 hours connected, always a call away, always in touch... but when you stare it it the whole day, and not a call or message comes in, it just remind you just how alone you are! Or maybe its just people like me who experience such things. I know of people who have mesages come in by the dozens... man, how do you get so many friends knocking on your door step?

In other news.... my dad is supposed to relocate to Johor by the 1st of december, so i guess ill be missing a dad again. We managed to fish open da car door... through some clever improvisation of cloths hanger and determination! Hopefully, things will start to change for the better.... Even if it came tomorrow... it wasnt soon enough

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 1:14 am Comments: 0

Dear friend,

Hey… How are you doing? It’s been a while hasn’t it? How’s life been for you? Good? No? In any case, I hope you are doing fine. It’s a shame that you and I don’t get to talk more often. Because in truth, I really loved all the times we spoke, and at a time like this, when life just seems the hardest for me personally, a friend like you is what I need most.

Things have not been going on well for me. So many things have happened that I don’t even know where to begin. I know you have many countless problems of your own, but as a friend, I am hoping that at the very least, I can confide my problems to you; so that I know there is someone else that knows of the things I am going through right now.

I am at my wits end, trying to deal with my sickly mother. It is nothing new; it’s not the first time she has gone into a relapse in her mental illness. But I have been dealing with the past 3 relapses almost single handedly over the course of the year, and I am afraid that it may be getting to me. Countless days of arguing with her, sometimes putting up with her personal attacks on me, sometimes having to see that she eats, baths and clothes herself; its an emotional roller coaster ride that I am only too eager to get off. In every thing that I do, I just seem to be wrong. I force her medication on her, and she screams and cries. Just before I wrote this letter, I had a big argument with her. She threw the medicine I gave her, and tried to snatch the cup of medication I was holding. I called my brother and he promptly calmed her down. I tried giving her the medicine again, but this time she just started sobbing uncontrollably. She drank it, but cried non stop, screaming that the world is evil. I stood there dumb folded, listening and watching my mother cry for the next 15 minutes.

Later, I went into my room, blasted my stereo, grabbed a pillow and just screamed my lungs out. I have never done that before, but this time round, I desperately needed release more than ever. I spoke to my brother, and told him I can’t deal with it anymore. I told him to either admit her into a hospital, or bring her to his place. Thankfully, he agreed, but it won’t be until a few days later.

My friend,

The real problem for me lies not just in my mother’s illness, but in me. I feel like I am leading a double life. As if I am shattered; not whole anymore; living a fragmented life. Can you imagine how it is like for me to go to school, and be the person that I have always been to my friends, friendly, talkative and kind; then come home to a sick mother, and suddenly turn into a jail warden, uncompromising, unyielding, forceful and cold? Then to go into my room alone, facing my computer screen and turn into this sadist, doubter, pessimist, whiner, depressed and lonely? So many times, I just wished that I could wear my heart on my shoulders, but I can’t. Not because I don’t want to, but because I really can’t. At times, my thoughts turn to God, and I wonder why He has forsaken me. But the answer comes quickly; He has not, He never did. It is I who has forsaken Him. Do you know when the last time I genuinely prayed was? So long, even I can’t remember. I dare not even pray. After forsaking Him and hiding from him for so long, I dare not even show my face in His house or pray.

I am not alone. But I still feel lonely. It feels hollow inside. I find myself searching for a purpose, for a reason for all that has happened. You say that everything happens for a reason; but I find myself struggling to find an answer. I don’t know how I ever manage to loose my way so greatly. I make all the right moves, but still end up lost inside. How I wish I was just one of those people, with unshakable faith, with a genuine trust in God, with a genuine hope for tomorrow. Though life must go on for me; all my sense of optimism, trust, and hope for a better tomorrow is as good as dead. My spirit is broken, or close to breaking. I begrudge all that life has thrown at me. Who knows what else is going to happen……

My friend,

I am sorry if all ever talk to you about are my problems. You have been very kind in patiently listening to me rant and whine all this while. I would very much want to hear about how you are doing too, but that seems unlikely to me, for one reason or another. Never the less, just know that I have always been very fond of you, and if ever you needed a friend to talk to, I am here; an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry, a friend to hug.

Yours truly

Your friend

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 1:49 am Comments: 0

Where do i go from here?

I feel lost. I feel frustrated. Im unhappy. No, thats an understatement; im more than unhappy, im upset, im deflated, im sad, im depressed. I'm tired........

Its not just my mother. Yes, she has been giving me lost of stress, but i know its not her alone. i would be able to deal with her better if i was in better shape. But the fact that i am not able to tells me that there is something else that is bothering me... but i cant place what it is.

I have reached the point where i am close to giving up, about to reach my limit. I think i have had quite enough of it all. At such a crucial time like this, when so many things are at stake for me in college, i cant afford to deal with this much anymore. Its bad enough having my friend come over, only for them to witness my fighting and arguing with my mother, needing to physically block her from trying to go home. Despite the constant dose of medication i have given her, she has still not come out of her relapse.

I will give it until the end of the week. By which, if she has not recovered i will ask my brother to take over. Whether to send her to hospital, or to bring her to his place, its up to him. I have reached my limit, my yielding point. I cannot and will not take more of this anymore.

It selfish of me, i know. It seems so wrong to just be selfish. I promised myself that i will do all i can before passing over the burden to others. My heart tells me that now is the time. You are right, she was right, they were right. i should not have to shoulder all the burden alone.

Im injured, I'm limping. Im going on reserves now. I need to return home, to recover, to lick my wounds, to heal to try and gain back the part of me that has been eroded over the pass 2 months. I have reached a point where i start to dislike myself for some reason. I get this feeling that i am not good enough, i doubt myself, wondering who my friends are, wondering why i am not better that what i am right now. I find myself unhappy, discontented, frustrated and just plain sad. I dread going home, i become short tempered at home, i have become reclusive. I keep my heart to myself, i keep my thoughts to myself, I have kept my worries, my concerns, my fears, my insecurities to myself. I have hide behind a facade of smiles and laughs. I have immersed myself in activities, trying to fill my time, doing whatever, anything at all.

But at night, when there is no one to talk to, when there is just you and the silence, the mind starts to wonder. I start to wonder how would my life would be if i didnt have a mother like that; if my father wasnt a philanderer; if we had enough money for a change; what would i have been doing if i didnt come to college? Who would i be with if i didnt couple with my girlfriend? What would i have done if i could do as i wish? Would i be as unhappy as i am now? Of course, its all useless... pure exercise in futility.

A friend of mine, having problems of his own said to me "Everyone seems to have problems of their own. Especially those of us born in the year of the Rat" (i'm born in the year of the cow). When i agreed with him, he said "You dont really have much problems compared to the rest of us."

HmmMmm... do i? Am i really making a big fuss out of nothing at all. Is it really just in my head? Am i imagining things? Well, maybe he's right. But tell me my mother is not schizophrenic, tell me she doesnt suffer from poverty delusion, paranoid delusions and delusions of being sick, tell me she doesnt walk around the house half nude, tell me there is in fact enough money in my pocket, tell me that there are people who care, tell me that i do fit into church, tell me i'm not depressed..... just tell me that i am in fact having a good life.... and i will kiss you on the lips.....

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 2:53 pm Comments: 1

Read me like a book

Am I really that easy to read?

I’ve been getting that impression lately. It seems the people around me can read me like a book. Or so they tell me. My girlfriend says I can be a real mystery sometimes because I just don’t tell things. But at the same time, she and another friend of mine both answered ‘yes’ when I posed them the question.

It seems I’m easy to guess when it comes to my taste in music, dressing, likes, dislikes etc. What’s more scary is when they start to guess how I feel about certain things, and they are right about it.

Am I really so one dimensional, so plain for all to see that people can just tell what kind of a person I am? A speaker came to my college recently, A corporate beauty training really. She just took one scan at me and said to me that I could be a banker; I had a very honest look about me that people trust. My first thought was “How on earth can you say that by just meeting me for 5 minutes?”

I admit, I’m not good at lying. At times when I do lie, its either something very small, or I make sure I’ve thought the lie out thoroughly before actually saying it. But suddenly, the people around me just start reading me like a book. Suddenly, what I like, who I like, what I dislike, who I don’t quite trust become plain for all to see.

It comes with familiarity maybe. After all, these people have known me for quite a long time. But what about that speaker that took one look at me and had an impression of me? She doesn’t know anything about me. My friend says its because I tend to be very frank, that I generally am very upfront about my feelings on things. I guess that is true to a certain extent. I make it a point not to hide it when I feel good about a person. Most of the time, I just tell the person directly how I feel about them. If I like their smile, I say so, if I think they have beautiful eyes, I say so, If I think they have a very interesting personality, again I say so? Is that why I become so easy to read? Because I tell people how I feel?

It seems almost contradicting from what I have been writing all these while. All this while, all I have been saying is how people don’t really know me, that people don’t really see me underneath it all. I do tell people how I feel about them, with the exception when I don’t really like them. To a certain extent, it does reflect on me, and from there, people can see what goes through my head. But for every word I say, every comment I make, there are 10 other things I though about that person that I do not say at all.

I don’t really know what point I’m trying to make here. I seem to just be drifting around in a sea of words. I think I have to admit to myself that I am in fact a very private person. I admit that I am in fact an introvert. I always thought myself an extrovert formally, but when people close to me start telling me that they don’t understand me, that I never tell them things, I start to realize. I don’t hide it from them, its just that they don’t ask, and I don’t tell. It doesn’t come out naturally. The thought of being read like a book by the people close to me is both comforting and terrifying. Comforting because I feel that at least these people know me, and know what I stand for; terrifying because they might just guess things about me that they shouldn’t really know about at all.

I had 2 long conversations with a good friend as well as my girlfriend, and they said some things to me that never really occurred to me. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. They told me that I was a relater; that I had a gift in relating to people. I don’t really know if I can call it a gift at all, but I do admit that I enjoy relating to people. Not every one, just some people. I enjoy getting to know them, knowing where they come from, who they are, what they stand for, why they are the way they are and mostly just build some sort of relationship. They tell me that it is not something that comes naturally, most people prefer to stay in their comfort zone instead of trying to befriend someone new.

The more I thought of it, the more it became crystal to me. I enjoy talking to people. Specifically, I enjoy talking to people with depth. I enjoy knowing them, relating to them, sharing their worries and hopes and sharing mine with them. On a few occasions, I had supper with friends of friends, of the opposite sex, who by any standards, were considered really physically attractive. Yes, I managed to strike up a conversation with her, yes there was light flirting here and there, but when I went home, I felt there was still a lot left to be desired. As pretty as she was, as chatty as she was there was a word that kept coming to me as we spoke… “Bimbo….bimbo…..bimbo….” I don’t mean to be crude. But it is how I felt. All looks, no brains. I’m not saying you have to be smart with an IQ of 180. But I get annoyed when the only things a woman can talk about are her looks and other women’s looks. Yes, you can talk about how cute Brad Pitt is, or about the latest shoe fashion, but make sure its not the only thing you know how to talk about!

On the other hand, a woman with a good head on her shoulders, who knows who she is, who has a good heart, who’s not afraid to stand up for what she believes in, now that’s attractive. Confidence, attitude, and heart: that truly makes a woman sexy. Not the short skirt, not the hourglass body, and certainly not all the make up in the world.

I don’t think I can just relate to anybody. There are many people around me whom I just have nothing worth to say to. Most of them enjoy making stupid slapstick jokes with absolutely no sense of finesse. Most of them only talk about the latest cars, the hottest model or the latest winner of Malaysian Idol….

I ask myself why I enjoy relating to people.. To a certain extent, maybe its because I feel the need to be needed. I want to feel that I matter to people, matter to them enough to share their feelings to me. What can be more private in this world that your feelings? What greater honour can there be than to be entrusted with someone’s feelings? To share you feelings with someone is to share a piece of yourself with that person. I think that is what I long for; to share a piece of people life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be a busy body, or nosy poker. When I ask questions of people, its because I genuinely want to know more, not because I have an itch to be scratched. Its so surprising how some guard their heart so closely, and how others seem to open up with only the slightest encouragement. But it its those who guard their heart closely that are really the hardest, but often most worth relating to; people who seem to have so much more underneath the surface; more than what meets the eye; people who not everyone likes; people who are often misunderstood; people with depth.

I don’t know how you tell them apart. But you just can. You look into their eyes, and perhaps I miss it sometimes, but there is always that look, that aura, that feel about them that tells you that there is so much more than what you see. Other times, when convention is defied, you come across people who do not seem the type with any depth at all, but upon more prodding, you become pleasantly surprised; not bimbo, not meathead after all.

Then you come across ogres once in a while. Ogres who like calling themselves onions; stinky with lots of layers.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 2:50 pm Comments: 0

Nope, its just my head playing games.......

Looks like it was a fluke after all....

She back... or maybe she didnt leave in the first place.

After what seemed like a moment of peace, my mother return to her difficult state. When i say difficult, i mean difficult for me. At least, she is no longer neglecting her hygiene. She baths on her own, and eats the food i buy, thought she still complain... When i buy her something proper, like rice with vegetables, she complains. She says that it expensive. So instead requested for roti canai. Its not really healthy, but its cheap. So, i did just that. I bought roti canai for her to eat, and she stopped complaining. Of course, she tried paying me 40cents for it. I told her that it was in fact 70 cents, but she refused to believe it. SHe said she usually ate it for free back up north. Fair enough. But you eat it for free here too.. After all, i paid for it, not her.

She sat in my room and told me. I'm the poorest among the four of us. I only have RM 7000 in my bank account. I want sure whether to laugh or cry. i told her that i probably had like RM70 in my bank. But for some reason, she still insist that she is the poorest. She has always been like that. No matter how much money she has, she still feels as if she doesnt have any money at all. Im not sure what they call it, but im sure its some kind of complex, forever thinking that you dont have enough money.

Meanwhile, she has been more, how shall we call it....assertive? When she physically blocks my door when i try to close it, and tries to pull the door open when i try to close it. She gets angry very quickly, and just keep telling me that she has no idea how im going to turn out, looking at how terrible i am now.

What is the saddest sound you know? To me, the saddest sound is the sound of my mother crying, and of her singing. One day when she was singing a lullaby to herself, i heard her from the other room, and i just listened. Something just stirred in my heart. It sounded so familiar, so close to my heart. Because she used to sing for me when i was a child. For some reason, it just made me sad. I went over to ask her why she was singing, she just told me that she was sad, so she sang to comfort herself. Sometimes, after a heated argument, she cries. When that happens, all my defenses are shattered. I try to maintain a stern posture. I do not show that actually, in my heart, i too am deeply affected by her crying. Outwardly, i just ask her to stop crying, saying that it wont get her anywhere. But in reality, im pretty much close to crying myself.

Just the sound of her sobbing, the sight of the tears coming down her cheek, it really breaks the heart. Though her logic and judgment might be faulty, her emotions are real. In truth, i hate hearing her cry. Of all the thing i cant stand in this world, it is of women crying. It just makes my heart go weak. All the more, the sound of my mother crying.

So, its another weekend battle for me. She's not out of it yet. I dont know if i can do anything more than what i have been doing. Giving her medicine, making sure she eats, baths etc. I'm wondering if the only way is to really just let her go do her thing and let her come back on her own. After all, that was what happened the last 2 times.

Until next time, take care.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 7:35 pm Comments: 0

Infatuation bordering obsession?

It just seems like bad times for many people.

Remember my friend who recently broke up with is girlfriend? Well, poor guy. Just this month, his house was robbed, by his own roommate, his computer crashed, and he suffered severe food poisoning.

That’s pretty screwed up with if you ask me. After all, one thing just happened after another. His girlfriend leaves him,. So broken hearted, he looks for a roommate since she moved out. Eager to find a replacement quickly, he gets this guy who was supposed to be a university graduate waiting to go off to do his Masters. So he moves in for about a month, and everything seemed alright. But one fine day, when all the rest of the house mates were downstairs swimming, he conveniently took everyone’s cash, cell phone, laptop and whatever valuables he could get and just walked right out. Estimated loss was about RM10k. Then, 2 weeks later, his computer crashes, which would cost him another RM 600 to repair, and he ate something wrong and is currently suffering from diarrhea and fever.

In other news, my brother’s luck hasn’t been too good. He called me today and told me the bad news. The heavy downpour today caused a tree brunch to fall on his car, shattering his windscreen, damaging the car bonnet and the chassis slightly. Poor him; had to talk all the way home from work. Don’t know what the repairs will cost yet, but he estimated it to be at least RM 600, and he’s stuck without a car for now. I’m just glad he wasn’t in the car when it happened. Of course, my brother is scratching his head now, wondering where the money is going to come from. Great… as if my family didn’t have enough problems to deal with.

Back home, I’m a little confused on what to think of my mother really. Yesterday she was really nice and all, but today, she seemed to revert back to the argumentative her, though no where as bad as last week. It was kind of awkward for me when a friend of mine came to the house. This friend, whom I find extremely annoying (he just seems to push all the wrong buttons with me), doesn’t know anything about me or my family background. When he came to my place to collect some things, I was wondering if my mother was going to launch one of her attacks on me, or if she would start to make a run for it. I wasn’t ready to explain anything to this guy. I wasn’t interested in ‘making a connection’ with him, since knowing him, it would only invite a million more, stupid and unstructured questions. Luckily for me, she was asleep, and all this guy got to see was how messy my house was. But I guess it’s a fair trade then.

Also, I have been going to the gym with a friend, trying to pump some iron into my toufu muscles. Kind of enjoyable really, but being there just makes me all the more self conscious. For starters, there seemed to be so many body beautiful people there. Its like, six pack here, six packs there, muscle here muscle there. Me? One pack, pure fat, and muscles made out of toufu. There were 2 guys there that looked like body builders more than students, 2 guys whom I swear are probably part rhino, and a Caucasian guy who lifted 20kgs of weight like it was a piece of cake. So much for the self esteem I guess. These guys could probably make mash potato out of me. I chatted with the Caucasian, and he told me he has been lifting for 25 years. Man, he’s been doing it longer than I have been alive!

Meanwhile, on a lighter now, my friends and I have been trying to help this friend to go after this girl he fancies. Actually, we were having sort of an appreciation dinner for a week long function earlier last week. The dinner was genuine, but i guess my friend has slightly more in mind. His underlying intention was of course to get to know this girl better. So being the buddies that we were, we pulled out all the big guns and adviced him accordingly. I willingly sacrificed my bike for the night. He would pick her up with my bike (since he had no transport of his own) and bring her to the dinner place half an hour earlier. The rest of us would of course come fashionably late, so that he would have more time to chat with her personally. After dinner, we would all pretend to be busy and leave early, again leaving the 2 of them alone to talk. The rest of it, and what to say during their conversations were up to him...

Kind of cute actually. Its almost a sort of conspiracy theory on our part. We all just interact with each other like usual, but each and everyone of us fully aware of what was really going on, how his ultimate goal was really to know this girl. We all knew it, except the girl of course. But then again, knowing women, they almost always know when a guy has some interest in them. That is something i really believe. Women are never as blind as men when it comes to emotions. Thats why i have my doubts. Maybe its just me imagining things, but she seems to get along so much easier with the rest of us guys, but sort of turns the warmth down a notch with her. We hypothesize that she knows what going on therefore she's careful how she reacts to him. Its like of strange actually needing to help this friend in his little love life.

But the poor guy just really freezes around her, and he stops being his natural self when she's around. Another friend said that we seemed to be going a little too far, as if the whole dinner scenario is more of a set up. Well, set up or not, when love doesnt happen on its own, the only way is to culture it! Plus, when gestures of love dont come to you naturally, you have to actually plan it. Yes, it sounds less romantic, and even artifical, but they arent supposed to know that! The point is that you want to charm the lady. The means might be cultivated, the ideas and methods might be recycled, but the desire, the intention and the emotions that form the foundation of it all, is genuine. To be honest, i cant help but feel a touch of envy looking at him. I mean, look at him, he is really in cloud nine. He's really bewitched, totally consumed by his feelings for this girl.

Those of us who have been in love would know just how wonderful and terrible the feeling can be sometimes. You feel miserable when you dont see her or speak to her, you feel the urge to call her and tolk to her, just to hear her voice. You find this misery so intense, yet in a strange way, you dont want to stop feeling this way, because it is the feeling of infatuation, of being swept away by love. The day you stopped feeling this misery is the day you stopped being crazy of her, and you dont really want that day to come at all. When she is around, and just standing beside her, you feel jubilated, you feel happy and contented, being near her. Sometimes, when she walks by, and you catch a hint of her scent, it feels like the sweetest smell in the world; of her hair, of her perfume, of her. But then again, you feel terrified of revealing yourself too much. You become so terrified because the feelings are so intense, it feels like its written on your face, plain for everyone to see, and for her to see. When she looks you in the eye, you wonder if she can just see right through you. You wonder if she can see that every touch from her, however small, however casual just sends electricity all over you body, down your spine right into the depths of your heart. You wonder if she know that every gaze she gives, every whisper she makes just makes your heart do a summersault, makes it jump out for a moment and skip a beat.

When was the last time you felt like that? Yeah, its not true love in the sense, but that feeling is indeed true, its intense, it burns. You go to bed thinking of her, you go through your day wondering if she thinks of you at all. You wonder what her favourite song is, if she likes walking in the park, if she prefers rice or noodles. In all that you do in the day, your mind just invariably leads back to her. Sometimes you walk with you head up in the clouds, not watching where you go or where you are, because you have her on your mind. Sometimes you walk with your head pointed down, shoulders sinking and your head is again not where it should be, because again you are thinking of her, and you are reminded that you're not around her! You check your phone every 2 minutes wondering if she's going to leave you a mesage. On the rare occasion that she does, you read the message over and over again, savouring every word, every little smiley face, every little joke, every little word, wondering if there could possible be more to the message. On days that she doesnt contact you, you go to bed thinking of why she didnt message you. Maybe she doesnt think of me too. Maybe its just me... .and your heart takes another roller coaster ride.

Sometimes, you just wan to burst out what you feel inside. You just want to pull her to one side and tell her... tell her that... eeerr...mmm.. that you like her? No that doesnt come our right. That you are obssesed about her? No.. that would drive her away.. That you think of her all the time? no.. that would make her think you are perverted. What DO you tell her? The truth? But the truth is all of the above... You like her very much, you think of her all the time, but mostly, you hope that she is happy. You want to be a part of her life, to be around her, to share in her pain, in her joy, in her sorrow, in her happiness. Not neccesarily to be her man, but just to be there to share the moment with her. If you could do all that in your capacity as a good friend, then a good friend is all you want to be to her, nothing more, nothing less.

Have you ever felt like that? I have. I do.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 12:27 am Comments: 0

About meeting up

Dear friend,

Thank you for the constant support you have given. I'm not sure what are my plans for the lunar new year yet, since its all the way next year. I would be open to meeting up, but i think i need to know a little more abour you before committing. I hope you dont take offense. After all, if you read my blog, then you must know almost everything about me, whereas i know absolutely nothing about you.

When will you be coming to KL? Where are you from? How long will you be around?

You can send me a personal email. euhann@gmail.com and if you would be kind enough to do a brief introduction of yourself, that would be just great. Hope to hear from you soon.

Regards

Eu-Hann

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 1:15 pm Comments: 0

Onions have layers

Sometimes I confuse even myself. I don’t understand why I do the things I do. Sometimes, I think I’m this really screwed up guy. It feels almost like leading a double life.

When I’m out in the world, I’m Eu-Hann, the nice guy, the gentleman, the friendly guy, the sociable guy, the guy not afraid of talking to strangers, well spoken, not shy to speak in public blah blah blah…… Many people have said many kind words to me of my character. I welcome these as a boost to my self esteem, except being called ‘cute’.

Now, I don’t really know what these ladies mean when they say I’m ‘cute’, but I’m pretty sure its not “Oh, look at Brad Pitt, he’s so cute!” kind of cute. When they say cute, I think of 2 words “Ugly but adorable.” Now, that’s the definition of cute! Kind of like a piglet or a little monkey. Other than that, Winnie the Pooh, Snoopy and Super Mario make the cut. So when they say I’m cute, I think “Do I really look like Winnie or Mario?” When I expressed this to a friend, she just said “Well, you are cute in a way.” What does that mean? Cute in a way? What way is that? Do people feel like cuddling me coz I’m cute? Since the Brad Pitt cute is out of the window, which leaves me to conclude that I am indeed like Pooh.

Maybe I do give the impression that I am this well mannered, Jackie Chan nice guy (minus the nose), and perhaps to a certain extent they might be right. But the more I hear these words, the more I am reminded of that other side of me. That other side I have kept from (almost) everyone else; that other side that I keep so well hidden behind that towering invisible wall I have somehow created around myself.

The fact is, not many people see me for what I truly am. I guess I deliberately hide it too. The reason is simple. I’m afraid that if I go around showing everyone how I truly am, no one would want to be my friend! Remember that movie Shrek? Shrek tries to tell the Donkey that Ogres are like onions. Donkey assumes that he means that Ogres are stinky. Shrek says “No! Onions have layers! Ogres have layers! Ogres are like onions, we have layers.” Get it? I guess I’m sort of an ogre too. I have layers too. Different people see different layers of what I am. There’s the public me; which is plain for everyone to see. Pull one layer and you see more of me, the side my friends see. Pull one more layer, and you see the intimate part of me; the Eu-Hann with half a dozen dark secrets, not daring to say anything to anyone, just hoping the right person comes along to ask the right questions you long so much to answer. But pull that down, and you see a side of me no one, except God himself sees. You see the insecure side of me, the evil side of me; sloth, gluttony, lust, greed, envy, pride, anger, you name it, I got them all big time, no kidding.

Some people go through phases when growing up. They go through this rebellious phase where they just do whatever they feel like, they indulge themselves in their feelings, into their thoughts. I never had those phases. The more I think of it, the more I feel; maybe I should have. Some friends I know tried their hands on drugs, going to pubs, getting involved in all sorts of trouble, promiscuous one night stands and the rest of it all. But I guess their rebellious streaks eventually come to an end, and after having their fun, they settle down and become normal once again. I’m not saying I want to try drugs or start bedding woman; I don’t. I just wonder how come I did not go out and do all the crazy things young people do. How come I never felt the need to conform to my friends, to have fun drinking and hitting on strange woman, or to do things on an impulse like colouring my hair purple or getting my nipples pierced? The fact that I never even went through this phase, the fact that I never felt the need to express my individuality in any big way leads me to the question, am I normal? Then it leads me to “Is this why I feel the way I do? Is this why I have this inner most layer of frustration?” As if there is some part of me that has never been let out when it should have. Would I still feel this way if I had in fact let myself loose and just go wild like every other youngster?

I know I shouldn’t even be typing this, and don’t ask me how I found out; but I have a friend who’s gay. I don’t know if he will ever be straight in the end, but he really went for it when trying to determine his sexuality. He was my good friend in school. He and I did chat about the matter, though I never suspected that he was gay. He asked me how homosexuals had sex. Logically, I said since men don’t have vagina’s, the only other hole would be anal I guess. “Doesn’t that hurt?” he asked me. My reply: “How on earth am I supposed to ever know?!” He started meeting other homosexuals online, started meeting up with these closely knit bunch of people personally. I guess since I couldn’t give him an answer to whether it hurts, he had to find the answer himself; he tried poking his butt hole with the end of a toothbrush (don’t ask me how I found out, who’s tooth brush it was or whether he used lubricant! I honestly don’t know.) I know that by the time we were both 19, he was already well integrated into the gay community, and was no stranger to fellatio (if you don’t know what fellatio means, don’t look it up. That means that you still have an untainted mind).

My point is how come I have never experience such streaks before? Not about being gay, but about just being young and stupid. The burning question is “If I had bump around more, bruised myself more and made more mistakes, would I still feel the way I feel now?” Is it possible that I feel this way because I somehow have the impression that I haven’t made enough stupid mistakes?

Sometimes, I just want to tell someone all this things. I just want to say “Hey, I know you think I’m a nice guy, and thank you for your confidence, but there is more of me. I have done things I am too ashamed to tell anyone, I have thought things I shouldn’t even be thinking about, and I have said things I should never have said. I’m not perfect. I’m far from it; in fact, I’m afraid if you knew all that was in my heart, you would no longer be able to accept me. But here it is…….”

But the reality of it all is, I dare not. I dare not lay my heart out, plain for someone to see, with all its flaws and weaknesses. I dare not expose myself; totally let my guard down, absolutely honest, absolutely vulnerable. Again, it is the fear of rejection, the fear of judgement, the fear of a secret thought of disgust on their part. Even with this blog, I burn with embarrassment every time I think that someone actually reads it. Read my header words; its written to no one and to everyone. Seems kind of conflicting, but to me, it makes sense. On one hand, I write my deepest thoughts, my worries, my insecurities, my problems, things that I would hardly ever willingly tell another person. On the other hand, it is these things that I feel the need to share with someone the most. It’s a big dark secret about yourself you can’t bring yourself to tell anyone about. But the fact that it’s a secret compels you to confide in someone.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 1:12 pm Comments: 0

End of the storm?

Perhaps its a little premature for me to start making conclusions but........

My mother seems to have improved somewhat. She was quite in an argumentative mood yesterday, but seems to have tone down a notch today. For one, she hasnt resisted much when i gave her her medication. I still give in to her in her drink, and she knows it. But she drinks it with much less pressure from me. Previously, i had to really pressure her before she even took a sip. But today, when i gave it to her, she just did as i said and drank the entire cup quickly.

Other then that, she seems less agitated. She has started doing some of the house work again, and and more importantly, i dont have to ask her to go brush her teeth bath or anything. She did it all by her own this time. A far cry from last week, when she took 20 minutes in the toilet and came out only half dressed. She even insisted on taking the trash out. I didnt want to initially, but the trash really needed clearing, i let her. I asked her if i could trust her, she just said she would throw it and come back. So i unlocked the door and let her go out. I watched her from the window, wondering if she would make a run for it. But she didnt, and came back immediately. So some credit to her there.

I bought dinner for her, but this time she didnt complain or refuse to eat. She just asked which packet was hers, and took a spoon and started eating. I was half expecting myself to make her eat her food again, but her unexpected co-operation was a welcomed relief. Last week, when my mother went through my room and all our things, my girlfriend became furious. She made me promise her to install a lock on the room door. I agree that when she's like that, its better to keep our room locked when she's not around. But when she is ok, i really dont feel the need to. Still, a promise is a promise and i will get the lock installed. But i hope i dont have to use it any time soon again.

My brother called to ask how she was, and i told him what i just wrote. Obviously he was pleased to hear it. I told him that i dont want to be too quick to judge. I have been giving her her medicine regularly, and maybe i should just do it indefinitely instead of returning it to her. That way, we might be able to avoid a relapse. So let me just give it a few more days before i truely conclude that these black days have passed. For the moment, its more like a pause in the storm. It just might return again.

Update on me dad; he did get the job offer and started work today. But immediately, the want to send him down south to the state office to troubleshoot. According to him, its a challenging job, with lots of problems. Its a security company, supplying security officers to bank outlets etc. I was pleased to hear it. A challenging job would be welcomed anytime compare to a mundane job. To me, keep him busy enough and he'll get over his divorce the quicker. He' s supposed to relocate down south at the start of next year. Im not sure if that is a good thing or not. But at least its progress. Of course, a lot of relief comes from the hope that within these 2 months or so, some of our money woes will lessen somewhat. Like i said, i have forgotten how it feels like to receive enough money 0n a monthly basis. I'd sure like to remember how it feels like again. At least for the remaining few months of my student life.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 11:51 pm Comments: 1

Thanks for your advice

I dont really know if sending my mother to my brothers place is a good option. For one, his place is in the middle of nowhere. The shops are far away, and its hard to get around without a car. She feels more comfortable staying here. That, plus the fact that my father has just moved in with my brother. To me, asking the 2 of them to stay together is a recipe for disaster.

The notion of sending her to the hospital has been brought up numerous times by my girlfriend as well as my brother. But i know that by doing it, it would break my mothers heart. No mother would want to be sent away from their children, by their own children, even if we say its for her own good. I have been giving her her medication regularly for the pass week, at quite a high dose. I dont know if its too early to say, but for the pass 2 days, she has shown lesser resistance when i give it to her. I hope the medicine is finally kicking in.

To me personally, though it gets to me and it really upsets me in every single way, i remain adamant about not sending her off to my brothers or the hospital just yet. Maybe its just some sort of self punishment, maybe its a sense of responsibility, or perhaps its me trying to make up for the past when i was never there by her side. I want to know and feel that i have truely done everything i can, with every fibre of my being for her before i pass the burden on to others.

I guess at some level, i want to be here in this situation. I want to be there facing the problem face on, to literally be there and support her and take care of her. Not just in name, or in the monetary sense. She gives me hell at times like these, but i keep thinking of a song by Michael Bolton she keeps on singing to me last time. It goes something like "I'd rather have bad times with you than good times with someone else." Yes, i could send her away, but i think deep down, i dont want to do it until i really need to. It is as much for my sake as it is for her.

The day will come when i go to study in the UK. My brother and i have not fully worked out the details of what will happen to her or how we are going to take care of her. But it will be his turn to face what i am facing now. I only how he will rise to the occasion. He has a good heart, but i sometimes doubt just how far he can be pushed before yielding emotionally. The memory of him breaking down and crying last year (was it last year? seems so long ago) still lingers in my mind. I worry for him, but i hope the strong faith that he has, which i lack so much, will carry him through.

What is in store for the future is hard to tell. I have voiced my intention to work offshore, in the oil and gas industry to my father. He says its up to me. I know the work is dangerous, and its the kind of life that not many people are willing to go through. To be out in sea for weeks on end, to risk your life in harsh working conditions. But to me, the rewards of the job will ensure that i can provide well for my family, for my mother, and myself. My motivation is undoubtly the cash. To be earning a 5 figure salary out of college is tempting. My friends dream of big cars, phones, holidays, and all sorts of things when thinking of working offshore. But i think of the good and proper treatment i wil be able to provide my mother in private hospitals, i think of the money i can repay my girlfriends aunt, my brother, my father and even my girlfriend. I think of the good start i can give myself and my future family if i work offshore, so that my family and my future children would not have to go through what i have gone through.

But the price of it is indeed costly, because it would mean that i am never around. I would be in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles away from civilization, away from those who matter the most to me. Then there is the danger of actually dying. Just last week, another helicopter on the way to the oil rig offshore crashed. 20 people survived, but the pilot died. A cold chill went down my spine. The third this year. Or at least, the third reported. These would be the kinds of danger i would have to face, and they are very real. When i spoke to one person who has actually done such jobs, he just told me "Every day, when you drive, you are at risk of dying too; and that risk is probably higher." Well, a good point there. More people die of car accidents than people in oil rigs.

Whether or not it will work out, i do not know. But deep down, i feel that what will happen depends on me. If my life is going to be different, if my life is going to be better, i have to do something. Not just let things happen. If i did nothing, i would just end up on the route everyone else has travelled on. Graduate, get a 9 to 5, buy a house, get married etc, buy a house, car, and land yourself in debt again. I could do that, and i might even feel contented. But something at the back of my mind just keeps bothering me, telling me "Make a difference. You are destined for more than just a life like so many others." Maybe its just wishful thinking on my part, but that poem by Robert Frost we all know so well just keeps coming to me.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 3:55 pm Comments: 0

Who are your friends?

Have you ever wondered who your friends are? I find myself asking this question over and over again. How would you define a friend? Well, according to the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary (I looked it up!), Definition 1: person one knows and likes, but who is not relation. Definition 2: supporter, helper or patron. Definition 3: a friend in need is a friend indeed; a friend who helps one when one needs help is a true friend.

Well, if I follow definition 1, then I guess I’m the luckiest person alive, because there seems to be dozens of people that I know AND like, but who are not relation. If I follow definition 2, I guess I shouldn’t feel too lonely either, since in terms of supporters and patrons, I have a few handful of them who entertain me and humour me when I’m feeling down. But its when I read definition 3 do really start to question who indeed are my true friends, if I even have one at all.

How many times have we heard of the term ‘fair weather friends’? I’m not sure how many people out there have ever experienced it, but it’s a really bitter pill to swallow when the friends you put so much hope and trust in just fail to rise to the occasion, to help you when you are at your most desperate, most vulnerable state. These friends just seem to be around all the time when things are going great for you; every one wants to be around the high rollers, everyone wants to be friends your buddy when you hit the jackpot. But when you are down, out in the gutter, when the odds are stacked against you, these friends are just conveniently preoccupied, busy, or just missing.

I have seen it just too many times; in my parents lives, and in my own. Friends come to you, swearing eternal friendship. “Call me if you ever need anything. Anything at all”, they say. But when you do, they treat you like you just broke out of jail and were asking them to hide you. I remember when I was in primary school. My mother had an argument with her sister when we lived there. She had a friend who said we could go to her place if we ever needed help. My mother walked out of my aunt’s house, and we walked all the way there, only to be turned away at the doorstep of the person’s house; so much for friendship.

I remember being surrounded by friends, friends who frequently came to my comfy double story house, ate out of my fridge, sat on my big sofa set and watch my big screen TV, calling me their ‘good friend’. But there came a time when these luxuries were taken away, and instead of living in comfort, I lived in a two room flat with a broken washing machine, little furniture and a 20 year old fridge, these friends suddenly stopped coming, stopped calling, stopped being my friends, and that’s when you realise, they were never your friends in the first place. I remember buying a RM3 pencil for a friend when I was 11, and he declared that I was his ‘bestest friend in the world’, but I don’t see him around anymore. To be fair, we were only 11 years old. I remember that I was the first person among all my friends to learn how to drive, and I was the only person to have full access to my father’s car. The rest of them were all still cycling. Suddenly, everyone is a friend, and everyone wants to learn how to drive, to take a test drive in my car. Of course, I obliged them. I taught them, and even entrusted my fathers car to them, only for them to knock it into my neighbours flower pots, ruining all his plants. But it was ok, they were my friends. Or so I though.

Years later, when it seems every one of them has a car on their own, and I in turn rely on my junk of a motorbike, everyone just keeps mute. Suddenly, I don’t merit an invitation to their get together. Only after it is all done do they say “Sorry ar, forgot to invite you. But you got no car right, so hard for you to come.” I guess there’s no need to read between the lines there. No offer to pick me up, no offer to come to where its convenient for me. But hey, I can live with that. Better to know sooner rather than later who my friends are.

Since when did we all become so materialistic? I remember a time when money, possession or car was never an issue. We’d cycle all the way to where we wanted to go together. Friends took buses all the way to town just to catch movies together. On so many occasions, I took the train and bus all the way back to my old school to see my friends for the holiday celebrations. It was far, it was tiring, but in the name of friendship, I went, and I never for a moment felt that it was not worth it. But times have changed, and friends who are so conveniently a half hour drive away don’t come to see you. I remember feeling so touched when a friend did the same for me, and came all the way down here on the train just to have a drink with me. How many friends do you know would do the same? An acquaintance told me of a girl he knew, who would only go out with you, even just for drinks, if you have a car. To be fair, she might have her safety and security in mind, or her parents forbid it, which is understandable. Still, I can’t shake away the feeling that this girl is sort of an elitist. You cant walk 5 minutes to the nearby Mamak for a drink?

But apart from the material stuff, what happens when you need emotional support? Everyone is suddenly a magician, capable of disappearing when you expect them, and appear when you don’t. A friend who helps one when one needs help is a true friend. I can honestly say that friends who truly offer their support and help are really really rare. I tried counting with my fingers how many of these kinds of friends I have, but discovered that I couldn’t count beyond just a few fingers, and even these, I had my doubts. I remember a few months ago, when I was so tight on cash, I didn’t even have enough to pay for my photocopy fees, though I didn’t breathe a word of it to anyone. A friend of mine was just chatting with me, and I was telling him how my dad had not given me any cash for months, and I have forgotten how it feels like to receive money on a regular basis every month. Perhaps he could see through me, I’m not sure, but he suddenly offered to pay my bill for me. Of course, I couldn’t possible accept, and I told him that I will manage somehow. I knew it was not just empty talk on his part. It was much too deliberate to be said on an impulse. But I was grateful. He is perhaps one person whom I trust to be a sincere friend.

I guess, to many of us, being a friend is more of a part time job, done at your convenience. Its hard to blame, since we are all concerned with running our own lives first and foremost before even bothering about others. I’m no perfect friend either, and I know in criticising these people, I end up sounding like a hypocrite. It saddens me, because the concept of a true friend, of a sincere friend seems to be evaporating as I grow older. Everyone is just banding together for mutual benefit. Gone are the days when you go out of your way for a friend. People meet when its convenient, or when it suits their criteria. Friends rush to you when you are rich, and run from you when you are poor. On your wedding, they congratulate you, hug you and kiss you, propose lovely toast, pay tribute to you. When you get divorce, they humour you and sit with you. But after a while, they leave, one by one, and the next time you ask, they are busy. But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.

As I grow older, I find it increasingly hard to find good friends. Friends who sincerely care about you and friends you sincerely care about. Most of the time, it ends up only 1 way. Either you care for them, but they don’t care much for you or vice versa. You get more friends who never ask beyond “Hi, how are you? Fine? That’s great.”. When you do meet someone you think is a potential friend, you then start to wonder if he’s hanging around you with a hidden agenda, wondering if this guy will be around when you need help. But I guess that’s not something I have to worry about, since I’m neither well off nor successful at the moment. All I am now is this guy with little money but lots of problems; who in their right mind would want to befriend someone like that right? If you asked my definition of a friend it would be, Friend: an almost extinct subspecies of mankind, plays with you in the bright sunshine, stays with you when it’s dark, shelters with you when it rains, cuddles with you when its cold and most importantly, lets you do the same for them.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 3:44 pm Comments: 1