I was recently stalking my own Facebook photos, going through pictures from almost a decade ago that showed me in various stages of my life. Some I remember vividly the moment it happened, some I have no recollection of and some was strangely so fresh in my mind that I could almost recall exactly what I was thinking of when the pictures were taken. I then proceeded to check out pictures of some of my newer friends, and it was amazing how their old pictures bared no resemblance to the person I know now.
And some pictures of me, perplexingly enough, showed a portrayal of me I could no longer relate to. Everybody changes with time. Mostly better, sometimes worse, but we all go through this gradual evolution of personality, perceptions and perspectives. And with this slow change of phases that we go through, we also end up experiencing specific things at a specific time, or meeting specific people at a specific time. Here is a little experiment. Take one significant person that you just got to know in this present time, and imagine meeting them 5 years ago instead of today. Chances are, at that point of time, at that phase in both of your lives, your relationships would’ve been very, very different. Some may not have occurred at all. Depending on how your philosophies are of life, you may think that these are all a string of super convenient coincidences, or in my case, that everything is strategically placed as part of the Big Plan. Because I believe in the latter, I always take to trust that everyone I meet, and everything that unfolds, occurs in that specific timing for a reason. Life is too miraculous to be just a factor of chances. I think of the people I hold dear to my life today and I realise that it is due to this evolved version of me today. I probably would have never looked twice their way if I had met them even 3 years ago. On the contrary, I think about some of the things I loved doing 5 years ago, and they no longer give me joy or meaning today. Realizing that everything that happens, feelings that are triggered, and people that you meet are all meant to occur at a specific timing today makes you re-evaluate your current life. Why are you in this position, loving this person, and capable of doing these things, today? Why today? Why is it happening at all? Knowing that these are not just chances, that these are gifts given to you today, will make you not take your blessings for granted. The blessings of a privileged life. Of your own growing perspective that is making you a better person. Of opportunities. Of having people in our lives we never thought we would ever have. Of having stability in this mad, mad world. Indeed, there are so many things to be thankful for and treasured today. One day, a long time ago, a friend of mine was assaulted and as I went to visit and asked her the details of the incident, I proceeded with my next question. “So was he Malay/Chinese/Indian?”
To which my friend answered, “Why? Why does it matter?” Why does it matter? This little scene in my life will then proceed to become one of those small occurrences that passed me by, unnoticed by my own self but undoubtedly making a huge impact on me later on. Perhaps I was only asking to help myself further visualise this human being that assaulted my friend. But perhaps, it was also my subconscious mind showing the effects of many years being exposed to direct or indirect projection of racial profiling within the community I grew up in. I would later learn that it is really quite simple – a reliable friend is a reliable friend, a criminal is a criminal and a good man is a good man. And you’re a silly person to think that these are all subject to skin colour or how they like their rice. Many years ago I was on a college field work for two weeks, somewhere off the grid in the harsh outback of Australia. We were assigned to a partner for the whole two weeks, and mine was a tall gorgeous Australian girl, with lovely freckles and brown hair. I dreaded this at first because we rarely talked in class and it was impossible to imagine spending all that time with just this girl in the middle of nowhere, with just a map, packed sandwiches and rock samples. I’m sure she felt the same way too. There I was, an Asian girl with a hijab, a frame small enough that I could possibly be eaten by a kangaroo, and she probably saw some suicide bomber on CNN that looked like me. I mean, what can we possibly relate on? You could probably guess how this story ends. I eventually learned, after days and miles trekking together, naps by the railway tracks, lunches under the trees, freezing wet and caught in a storm by the roadside and getting sunburned beyond repair, the simple fact of it all; we are not really that different. We tell each other stories about our lives, and amidst the cultural and religious differences, here is what I understood. We love our family the same, we both get broken hearted the same, we both share humour over the craziness that is life, we both had hopeful plans for the future, and most of all, we both just want a joyful, content life. I was just there for my degree credits but as usual, life sneakily decided to teach me other things as well. Over the years I would meet people and experience the unfortunate discomfort of being racially profiled, because of the way I look or the way I dress. Such is the reality of the current world we live in. We often fear or hate things we don’t understand. On rare occasions I even find myself slanting towards this attitude, and immediately tell myself off. Such is the reality of a flawed human being sometimes. But then, occasionally you come across wonderful revolutionary people who understands the emphasis of character beyond what is physical. These people become friends, loved partners, trusted colleagues, even family. They would remind you that by the end of the day it is the connection, the meaningful relationships, the shared life aspirations and the happiness we bring to each other’s lives that would actually count. Those are the things we’ll reminisce when we’re eighty and watching the sunset from the balcony of our beach house (oh God I want a beach house). Happy Ramadhan to those celebrating. What a month. Really. What a month. Someday when I am old and toothless, I would think of my career and this month would probably be one that flashes (after I try to recall my own name). Like I’ve said before, it’s funny how you think a job is just a job, until you find out it isn’t. Earlier in April saw a huge shift in the company I’m working in, with a large slash of employees due to the current state of oil economics. The dreaded letters came in from HR and the effects were almost instant – some people cried, some people were speechless, some people packed immediately and left, some people were silently relieved, and some even accepted their fate with a lot less poise.
It was also a humbling experience watching people walk away from their jobs. Some took it worse than others, and I was in a strange position of feeling grateful I could stay, but feeling sorry to those who did not get to. It was a slap to the face to realize that a job is just like a lot of everything else in this life – completely and utterly fluid. A job, just like a lot of everything else in this life, is in fact fluid and could change in an instant. One day you’re sitting comfortably at your work desk, and the next day you’re no longer required to punch the card. One day you’re on top of a hill and everything in life is going great, and the next day you’re in the ditches, wondering how everything went south so fast. One day you have parents, and the next day you don’t anymore. One day you’re inspired, and the next day it feels bleak and demotivating. One day a man is a prominent character to you, and the next day he becomes a stranger. The list is endless. The larger parts of causes for despair often root from failure to accept this very nature of the things we experience in life. A good friend of mine lost her father by surprise, much too soon than anybody would’ve expected. They had a close bond, and I braced myself to witness the after-effects it would have on her after he passed. At around the same time she was also studying for exams, and was broken up with a boy. In my head I could clearly imagine my own self handling this situation, which would probably heavily involve a long period of cat-murdering, pot-smoking, life-resenting depression. Okay I hope I wouldn’t do that, but you get the picture. But of course she didn’t do these things. She was sad for a considerable amount of time, but never taking it too far. I suppose my point here is that we all experience the same emotions – sad, happy, elated, in love, disappointment, loss. But often what makes a huge difference on the impact it has on our lives is how much we’ve accepted the fact everything goes away eventually. It is never about clutching onto them eternally for dear life. It is always about enjoying them while they last. This is a popular concept, well-understood and agreed by the most of us, but so darn hard to actually apply in real life. A part of your brain knows this is true, but the other part of it just couldn’t help being drawn and sucked into this swirling mix of over-attachments and leeching onto things that are just as flawed as we are ourselves. As a person who relies on work as one of the very few aspects of my life that are actually stable, this whole episode reminded me how nothing in life stays as deep black holes nor rainbows forever. And expecting them to remain that way means you have missed the entire point. It has been wired into us that we should never ever give up. Ever. We should never give up until the end (I’m sure this comes from a song lyric somewhere). Whatever it is that we are striving for, giving up is for losers. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Resilience will prevail.
These generic advice are poison. For the most part of our lives, these motivations are true and have been proven by so many success stories of people who went through hell and back to achieve something and never gave up. It stops people committing suicide, it cheers people on to make it in life, it helps implant positivity in people with illnesses to heal themselves, and it pushes forward broken hearts to get out there again. But at the same time, this idea can be easily manipulated into the specifics in life that it becomes almost dangerous. To simplify, sometimes we really should give up. I know a couple who has been trying to have kids naturally for years and years now, and although doctors have advised that it was near impossible for them to conceive naturally they have not given up on that idea yet. Which is great, except they are also miserable and desperately wanted children. Not giving up on this hinders them from considering other options to have children that could be just as wonderful but not necessarily their initial picture of what it would be like. There is a guy I know who refused to look at other options to make a means of himself other than dreams of becoming an artist and as a result, his wife and kids suffer. And I could easily point out a girl who is in a dead-end relationship with a man, unhappy but adamant to not give up in this emotional investment. I too am as guilty as charged in this subject matter. The go-getter attitude has been instilled in me by my environment from an early age, and as a result I become almost obsessed with the idea that every single little thing I want in life should be fought tooth and nail for until it is mine. I just couldn’t quit. Which sounds amazing in theory. But what it does in my real life is that in many ways, it stops me from moving forward and it hinders my vision outside of what I think I want. I stressed myself into thinking that my current job is the only job I would be best at, and as a result I could not bring myself to explore other things out there that might be just as interesting. I resiliently loved people who did not love me back, and as a result, I did not move on. I hold on to expired dreams because I could not bring myself to admit that not all dreams are actually applicable in reality. Giving up is a delicate subject. It should be under no circumstance applied in some policies in your life, as it is scientifically and spiritually proven that resilience is effective, causes positive changes and defeats impossibilities. That being said, sometimes giving up is a possible option that can create miracles too. Giving up on the idea of ever looking like a Victoria’s Secret model (there are no Korean surgeries that can substantially add body height) made me much happier in my own skin. Giving up an initial plan of living a certain lifestyle can open up doors to many other wonderful options we never knew existed. Giving up on a pointless relationship will allow others to give you what you actually deserve. The trick, I suppose, is to know the fine line between when to soldier on and when to respectfully abort the mission. It is a large part of making the right/wrong moves in life, therefore always remaining a subject of eternal perplexity for all of us, wherever we’re from and however different our lives are from each other. Good luck in giving up! Well of course we all want to make a good first impression with everyone. Everyone. Including our gynaecologist. I know I do. That’s why people put on clean shirts to work and pretend they like their boss’ cats. Say what you will, but even beneath the very statement of a person’s “I don’t care what people think” lies a certain level of consciousness, however small, to want to be impressionable. This perhaps roots from the human’s genetic need to belong to a society, a unit, or even a family.
Sometimes we get a little too desperate to nail an impression that we begin saying things that are not necessarily true. One day when trying to make new female friends at the office, I noticed that most of them were mothers who liked talking about children and I began lying that I adored children just to get myself in the group. As a result I ended up being forced to view so many phone snapshots of babies in one sitting that it was like a witness interrogation program. Similarly, I went out for lunch with a boss once due to saying I would like his thoughts on the economy and almost snoozed and drowned in my bowl of soup as he went on and on for a good hour about the US oil sanction. Similarly, I have also made up versions of myself to try and impress boys. This happened mostly when I was younger and I was a lot more insecure about myself. I said I liked metal music (I don’t. It’s horrendous). I pretended to enjoy an RM17 plate of banana fritters (not really. The pisang goreng stall near my parents’ house for RM2 per plastic bag is still the bomb). I said I believed in things I didn't. I admitted that I was a night bug to appear fun, got dragged to do things in the city into the early a.m. and ended up spending the next day with a headache at work. I piled on so much makeup that I looked like a Cher reincarnation. I even claimed that I am not at all concerned about money, which for some reason invited really cheap guys into my life (and honey, I know the difference between ‘careful’ and just plain old stingy). By the age of 25 I began to realise that making up things just for the sake of impression is a sure fire way to create destructive, pretentious relationships with people around me. I mean, how long can you pretend that you enjoy exchanging thoughts on collagen youth drinks during lunch hour? One week. One week until you realise that it is just not worth spending all that time talking about seaweed that can make your skin fairer. On a bigger scale, appearing that you share the same aspirations, interests, passion and opinions just to seem agreeable to other people is exhausting and frankly, pointless. There is absolutely no way you could please everyone. Not even Oprah can pull that off. So these days I go down the road less taken. I think we all do as we get a little older, as Meryl Streep once said, “I find that I care a lot less about a lot more stuff with age”. By no means at all implying that I am as old as Meryl, I think we all get more and more comfortable being ourselves with time. There is less and less personal need to exhibit ourselves as something we’re not whether it is in the workplace, with friends or with dates. That being said, it is no question that first impressions are crucial. It’s what gets us a job. It’s what latches people’s interest to further probe. It’s how we make new connections. But at least by understanding where the line is drawn between portraying our best self and pretending someone we are not, we inch a step closer to build sincere, substantial and meaningful relationships with people around us. In December 2014, somewhere around New Year’s Eve, I woke up in the morning to find my Dad sitting in the reading chair in the twilight. He had been sitting there all night, not being able to sleep as he was experiencing an extremely tight feeling on his chest. “Let’s go to the hospital,” he said.
He was having a minor heart attack. A few months later, after different doctors, various tests, many late night drives to the emergency room and a lot of anxiety and worry for the family, my Dad finally had a triple bypass surgery. He had three blockages in three different places, and he was looking at a long road to recovery. Not surprisingly though, this was not the first time the family has heard of a lifestyle-related illness. When I was in college my uncle died in his forties due to heart failure. When I was younger my grandmother died in her fifties due to diabetes. Almost all of my aunties are experiencing levels of hypertension and high blood pressure. I knew early on of the genetic risks of these illnesses, and so after my uncle’s passing, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I stopped taking sugared drinks cold turkey. No soda, no Coke, no syrup and not even sweetened fruit juice. Do you have any idea how hard it is to not drink slurpies in college? But today, nine years later, I don’t miss sugared drinks for even a bit. I don't even think about it anymore - they became automatically ignored. When my Dad was sick I witnessed how health-related illnesses creep up to you without you even realising it. My Dad is a pretty active man. He is not overweight, he seemed like he ate relatively healthy, with early dinners, not too unhealthy menus and not enough dessert. But what a lot of us fail to realize is that age, as much as we hate to admit it, takes a toll on our physical capabilities. We can no longer eat like we used to in our early twenties and we can no longer afford not exercising, no matter how ‘naturally skinny’ we are. Bit by bit, it will take a massive toll on us before we even notice it. After that episode everyone was a little spooked, myself included. My family began to take this subject seriously. Heck, even I was making drastic changes to myself. I stopped eating all types of processed meats (except for the occasional prime sausages because damn it, old habits die hard). I reduced my meat and sodium intake significantly, cooked more, forced myself to exercise at least 3 times a week and began conscious eating (no, eating noodles instead of rice isn’t better!). A lot of people remarked that this was a new diet craze I was into. Not really. I just wanted to do everything in my power to ensure that I don’t spend the second half of my life being sick and popping pills for hypertension, heart problems and diabetes. I am working so hard in my youth to earn the perks of retirement, and I sure as hell would like to be able to enjoy them when it comes. ‘Looking healthy’ is also associated with the vanity of wanting to look a certain way. This is absolutely true to a certain extent. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), this vanity also tend to shed little by little as we grow older, and as harsh as it is, for many people a new venture into married life and raising babies reduces the need for this vanity and henceforth the energy to maintain a healthier lifestyle. And as we all know well by now, it is an effort to keep it up sometimes. I felt intrigued to write about this subject as I have successfully made a tray of brownies with my brother last night and devoured them at 10 pm. As much as there is a need for smart decisions, some days we all tend to bend the rules as well. Such is life. But when my Dad was diagnosed, he felt a constant regret for not being more mindful of his health before. I hope to never experience that, and I hope neither would you. Health is meant to be enjoyed and appreciated throughout your entire life, not only when you were young. And anyway, isn’t taking care of your body a form of gratitude for what you have been blessed with? It is wishful thinking to want a life free of big mistakes. Even the best of us are bound to make them at some point in our lives. A histogram of mistakes will show a large concentration of them being committed between the late teens to the mid-thirties. When I say ‘big’ mistakes, I don’t mean the mundane ones such as not saving enough for retirement, deciding to not go for an European adventure in 2015 or wearing a hideous outfit to an event. I’m talking about major, earth shattering ones, ones that change your course of life altogether, betray your own ethics or even at times, destroy an important element of your livelihood.
I am product of a judgemental society. That means I will immediately judge you the minute you commit an action that is not the norm of my culture or a huge disobedience of my beliefs (this applies if you are also a member of my faith). Come to think of it, it is normal to make judgement. Humans are designed to be able to assess a situation when it occurs, and assessment and judgment are two peas in a pod. When people say they have no judgement, they are lying. What makes a difference is the extent of the judgement, and a person’s ability to make the most unbiased response based on it. Unfortunately, for the most of us being judgmental and socially punishing people for their mistakes have grown into a sense of entitlement. We feel righteous in doing so, as it becomes a way for us to reassure ourselves that we are better than these people who made mistakes and were outed for them. I remember a distinct time not too long ago when a girl I knew got knocked up and her boyfriend fled the scene. To that girl, the incident was earth shattering. Imagine being young and clueless, and a mistake is costing her a lifetime of fixing her relationship with her devastated family, making ends meet as she didn’t have much money, and facing the scary world with a child, alone. She was repentful and humbled by what she had done. I became a member of that society who talked about her behind her back, showed little empathy and was judgmental of her circumstance. We set her doom and made sure she never forgot it. The truth was, if she was sorry she did it and had learned something from it, isn’t the rest of it now between her and her Maker? Meanwhile, it has been accustomed within our society to not be forgiving even when it is obvious that she will already spend the rest of her life making up for it. Now she has moved away and the last I heard she is happily married and beginning a new life. But I can’t help but think – if I had been less harsh and more helpful, perhaps I would have eased her sorrow and made a difference during her hardships however little it may be. I am sorry for how I conducted myself at the time. Through privileges of meeting people to discuss faith I have also realised a significant difference between the real pious ones and the so-called ‘religious’ followers. The ones that are sincere believers forgive and reach out, always more concerned with what they can do to improve things and make a difference. While the rest of us, well, the rest of us are too busy passing judgment and bitching around to move a muscle and do the exact thing that is asked of us; to become an example of a compassionate human being. Sometimes I think about the amount of screw ups I had done in the past and how many times I had gotten away with all of them slack-free. I will always be forever grateful with the chances I’ve had, although sometimes it is hard to process what I did to deserve them. But more importantly, perhaps if we are the lucky bunch who made major mistakes and recovered from them scoff free, it is made to turn out that way so we may understand those who are not so fortunate. Perhaps when someday we come across someone that is paying for their own mistakes, we would be empathetic and supportive, instead of tuning into the judgemental monster that lurks inside us, waiting to punish people as we see fit. Did you realize that these days you have fewer friends than you used to? Think about it. I’m not talking about acquaintances or the number of people you know – obviously these will only logically increase with your number of years. I’m talking about real friends, those whom you deem close to you and who you are emotionally attached to. And while we’re on that subject, did you also notice that you seem to care less about a lot of things you used to give a hoot about?
I used to find myself in events and social gathering that I would dread having to go to now. Thank God people gather less these days. I used to totter around with heels so uncomfortable my toes went numb. It was fun then but now I wear sensible work girl shoes. I used to enjoy having friends with questionable ethics doing borderline illegal stuff, but these days I'm a concerned citizen with a pepper spray. I used to worry a lot about family members/friends who struggle with issues, but now I have learned to be selective about them - some are worth everything and some are worth very little. Whether we notice it or not, as we move past our phases in life we also drop and leave behind things and people that we no longer require. We don’t announce the end of friendships, but most will just fizzle away with the tide of an old lifestyle, as we start growing towards different personal directions. We don't publicly declare a 'type', but we slowly find ourselves attracted to only a group of certain people now. Subconsciously our minds are also built with a certain emotional threshold. Suddenly a lifelong family or relationship issue that seem to bog us all these while will come to a screeching halt and we find ourselves not slaving our energies to it any longer. Sometimes, the actions are deliberate. We soberly and consciously make the decision to quit a relationship, a lifestyle or an ambition simply because it doesn’t fit us anymore. These are the hardest ones to do. To say goodbye to something familiar, to bid farewell to someone because he/she is no longer contributing to our happiness and to leave a life we knew so well because it is no longer making us contempt is a difficult feat. When I decided to stop taking sugared drinks seven years ago, it was sad because I really loved Coke. But it was necessary and I had to do it, and these days I don’t even like sweet beverages at all. Okay, maybe my example is not that profound, but you get the idea. Over the years I had gone through many goodbyes. Some were unnoticed until they were gone, some were forced on me and some were choices I had to make to ensure I am better off, hopefully. I had to leave some parts of my lifestyle that I felt was not doing much for me anymore, and some relationships with friends and relatives fizzle off due to, well, life. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t believe in cutting ties. I think it’s unhealthy to pretend that some things doesn’t exist when it does, or not acknowledging knowing someone whom you were obviously destined to have met in life. Rather, I believe in letting go. Letting go means you appreciate what has happened but are parking it in a slot in your mind where it will remain static – you will no longer progress to spend much time on it for now. Letting go of something also means that you’re allowed to visit its memories once in a while. There is comfort in realizing that if you hadn’t known somebody or lived a certain life in the past, you would’ve never had these set of circumstances that ended you where you are today, with the things that you do have and the lessons you have learned. Some things are not good for you now but were so good back then while it lasted. It is not wrong to reminisce or even miss them a little. Sometimes I think about those days I went out all night and swam in the ocean at 4 am and I am filled with jealousy of the old me. But then the clock strikes 11 pm and I get a headache and I’m so glad I’m in my warm bed with iFlix instead because honey, this is my idea of a good night these days and there ain’t nothing wrong with that either. On the fourth day of 2016, I was back in my office and the excitement of the New Year have calmed down (not really. I found myself still gleefully wishing ‘Happy New Yearrr!’ to random strangers I met at the lift). I was talking to a friend when he dropped the revelation bomb.
“Do you realise that we’ll be 30 before we know it?” (Yes, and it physically hurts my gut) “If we live to be 60, which is the average statistical number of years people currently live, that means we have lived almost half our lives! Have you done anything significant?” And with that, my 2016 hurrah fell splat on the floor and died. As he went on about his goals of being a millionaire (okay maybe he didn’t say exactly that, but that was the gist I got), my mind had already wandered off somewhere else. The state of panic had caused my brain to immediately do a quick flash back on my highlights of the past 10 years. Strangely enough, instead of the big, ‘significant’, recognisable things that happened to me, my mind seemed to be flashing random images of mundane life incidents. Like that time I was on the bus on the way to work because I haven’t bought a car. Or the time I watched a starry sky on a shipdeck after being stranded there for three weeks for work. My first night in my new, empty apartment and I was excited about it. People. Lots and lots of images of people who came, then stayed or left but made a difference anyway. Beautiful quiet Sunday mornings at home with brunch. Laughing with friends. Laughing with my Mom. Chasing a train somewhere in Vietnam. Crying at movies. Crying at boys. Jumping off a jetty into the sea at sunset. Flying a kite. Eating fois gras and discovering that it’s overrated. Writing at my favourite spot by the window. My mind doesn't seem to flag some of the bigger things that I had done or seen. It missed out graduation. Or getting highest in class for a subject. Buying designer bags. Buying a car. Working. People whom I thought did me wrong. Extravagant weddings. Pretentious parties. As much as some of these things are important, standard milestones, it doesn't seem to feel that they had a significant impact on my hard drive memory. There is always a pressure to fulfil our lives with generic goals that the environment around us seem to have set for everybody. Unfortunately, more often than not these have the least impact on our personal self-growth. I am not all saying that getting job isn’t important, or that owning property isn’t momentous. In fact, that may very well be the case for some of us. My point here is that what is significant for you may not necessarily be the same as what is significant to other people, and vice versa. Your idea of a life well lived isn’t always the same as your friends or what your parents have envisioned for you. I have a friend whose vision of a great life is having lots of kids and they all gather around for Raya every year. On the contrary, I also know someone who quit her job to focus on being a photographer, is still currently struggling to get her work recognised but is embracing her current lifestyle because it is what she has always aspired to be. Unfortunately a lot of us (read: myself included sometimes) tend to conclude that what’s different from the norm is often ‘sad’. Which makes us the sad ones, really. So when the question arose about whether I have done anything significant, I was more concerned if I had spent the past thirty years living someone else’s life. Did I do the things I wanted to do? Did I live the way I wanted to live, however weird, odd and perplexing the choices may see from the outside? Did I pay attention to the little details that make up to the sum of a wonderful, adventurous life? “So, are you where you thought you’d be by now?” the friend asked. I sighed. I am so glad the answer wasn’t no. I will be the first to admit that yes, I am a sucker for New Year. I know a lot of people tend to think that the whole ‘New Year, New Me’ thing is such an overplayed cliché, but I respectfully disagree! I love the idea that a new year can be used as a kick off medium to further improve yourself through resolutions. I especially love looking back at a past year and realising that I have in fact achieved them in my aspirations to become a better person (I hope). For example, in 2015 I have achieved my goal of not watching the Kardashians anymore, wearing sunblock everyday (yes, every damn day!), keeping a good tab on my daily prayers, making an effort to join more charity work than 2014 and exercising at least twice a week. They are small milestones, but they made a huge difference in my life. For the past week I had been reflecting on 2015 and concluded that I have had a shit year. Aside from some things that did go well, the rest sort of went downhill from the get-go. Feeling melancholic, I started writing a post about how sad and gloomy it had been. But this morning, as I scrolled down Facebook and saw everybody’s comments on what 2015 had been for them, I realised… everyone seems to have had a generally challenging year too. A couple of friends lost their jobs, some lost their loved ones, my neighbour got robbed, a mutual friend was diagnosed with cancer, deranged guys are killing civilians, racist weirdos are Prime Ministers and Presidents, and the list goes on. As I read through this, it dawned on me that I am officially and undoubtedly, an ungrateful little twat. Sure, just because everyone has bigger problems does not mean mine are less valid. But looking around, amidst all the tragedies there are so many things to be happy about. One day we were having a family meal, a feast, more like, and while everyone was tucking in my Dad said, “Do we realise that some people don’t even get to eat?” He didn’t mean to be a buzzkill, but it sure made the food taste even better, because it made everyone at the table have gratitude and ultimately, happier for the simple blessing that is food on the table. And family to eat with. In a stable home. Such a wonderful life. So in 2016, one of my resolutions is to project gratitude. I don’t want to just sit in my comfy apartment wearing nice clothes eating fancy food and say I’m grateful. That is NOT enough. Gratitude needs to be exhibited. Portrayed. Whether it be through trying to help others with small gestures, doing my part for the environment, getting off my bum and out there doing physical charity (rather than just ‘liking’ a photo on FB) or even simple things like not being wasteful and accepting challenges in life with a hindsight that there are so many other things I’ve got going on for me. On a more selfish note, there is this Islamic saying I read somewhere that says “until you are grateful, you will never get better things in life”. And I want better things!! So here is to being grateful. Note: Other 2016 resolutions include – sleep for 7 hours max in a day, watch less than 3 hours of TV per week (exception: The Walking Dead, Homeland, Game of Thrones), see one new place per month, go for Umrah, learn a new skill (last year was Yoga). Terms and conditions apply. Another note: Last night I went to see the NYE fireworks in the city. The grandma in me initially detested this idea, but it turned out to be so much fun! Gotta add this to my 2015 highlights. |
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