This year has been by far the most difficult year for me personally. And by difficult, I don’t mean the ‘I’ve gained a few pounds’, or ‘I had a few bad dates’, or even ‘I didn’t manage to achieve my savings goal’ type of difficult. 2015 feels like a long year of being dragged slowly through a dwindling road of never ending challenges from relationships, family and work. My Father was ill for the first half of the year, I called it quits with someone that was very dear to me, I was uncertain at work, and recently was stumped by some depressing personal news that superseded everything else that happened this year.
It is not easy to make sense of it all when you’re in the bubble of hardships. It certainly doesn’t help when you scroll down social media and it seems like the rest of your friends are living a ‘perfect’ life, albeit knowing the fact that they are all fantasies, a subconscious effort of our minds to only post wonderful things online to make it seem like our lives are perfect. Friend X keeps showing off her perfect little family, but perhaps she is exhausted as hell. Friend Y is posting photos of travel adventures, but maybe it’s a substitute for feeling a bit lost in his real world. Friend Z seems like she’s climbing a fast ladder in her career, but it could be at a price of her personal time that she can never get back. It’s not a crime. Almost everybody does it. Everybody yearns to live a problem-free life, which in turn inspires the stint of only sharing the good things with the world. Alas, none of us have it all. Everyone has challenges, in different altitudes and different ways. Episodes of downfall in life can sometimes cause such a thick haze that it becomes almost impossible to look beyond it. Personally I always end up feeling withdrawn from people, and all I want to do is to buy ten gallons of Jamaican Almond Fudge ice cream and go live in a cave for two weeks. Some people will try to be helpful and tell you all the generic advice you’ll ever hear, but these will sound void and meaningless. Religious faith can be a great assistance, but if you’re human like me, sometimes it is such a struggle to collide your emotions and religious logic. Furthermore, sadness, disappointments and loss are such resilient, resilient villains. They lurk in the shadows, refusing to go away too easily. Downfalls make you grow. It is impossible to learn anything if you’re constantly on top of the world, the euphoria of good times shielding you from any form of self-growth. The harder the downfall, the more we are forced to look at our lives from a different perspective. For me, downfalls make me humble. They make me man up to the hard truths of life. When my Father was sick I was forced to prepare myself for a life without parents. If it doesn’t happen today, it will happen someday. When I was broken hearted, it made me re-evaluate the definition of love against the fantasies of it. In the wake of other news in my family, I was taught the price not thinking about your loved ones when making life decisions. Downfalls, at the core of it, are what realigns our focus on what life and living are really about. Loving our family despite their flaws. Falling on your face when it comes to love a few times, so that when you meet a good one, you’ll know it. Understanding that life isn’t just about being happy all the time, but it’s about those accumulation of moments, both good and bad, that makes it a complex, rich and wondrous overall experience. There is no point being too bummed out about anything in this lifetime, because in case you haven’t noticed, whether we choose to live it with utter contentment or not, none of us are getting out of here alive anyway. So if you ask me, it’s a pretty obvious choice how we should conduct it. So to answer the guy’s mother’s question; what am I waiting for?
Truth be told, I don’t think I am waiting around for anything really. I am just merely moving forward with my life with a profound trust that everything will happen the way it is supposed to be. Do I want to grow up and grow old with someone someday? Of course. John Mayer once sang that ‘it is such a waste to grow up lonely’. And I agree. It seems that he too faces the same predicament. But am I going to sit around and deem my life incomplete until that happens? What a preposterous way to live. Every second in your life is invaluable, whether it's with or without someone. The mistake that most of us make is trying to prove that we’re happy to other people. Trust me, I myself have done that a few times in the past. Especially if you’re single, you tend to feel the need to prove to others that you are just fine. And you can see enough of this on social media. The hashtags ‘#idontneedaman’, ‘#singleandhappy’ or ‘#independantwoman’ are pretty appalling if you ask me. Don’t get me wrong. I am all for being your own woman and such. But having to shout it out aloud just proves how unconvinced you are yourself towards the whole concept. It is observable that be content with life, you must first and foremost forget about trying to prove people wrong. I used to think about what people might think of me as I hauled a ten-foot mirror out of IKEA alone while everyone else seemed to be helped out by their own respective partners. I also cringed when I wondered how I must seem walking into of the movies alone at the theatre near my house. The truth was, I actually enjoyed doing these things alone, and yet worrying about how I might be perceived always ruins it. One day there might be a time when I can no longer afford a lot of time by myself, so I intend to enjoy it as much as possible. On a different perspective, if I am destined to have to do a lot of things on my own for the most part of my life, it is even more essential to learn to like my own company. I am proud of the fact that I am independent, that I know how plumbing works and what to ask my electrician, how to pay my bills and when to check my car. My parents raised me to be self-sufficient. A man should be cherished for his companionship in life, not so that he could solve all my problems. If I had found someone too soon in my life, perhaps I would have never learned all these valuable lessons. Mind you, I could easily recall a few married girlfriends who would sooner know nothing than what to do in an event where the water tap bursts. But of course, as human beings go, there are times when I went to panic mode. There was a scene in ‘Sex and the City’ where Miranda, one of the main characters of the show who was single at the time, choked on her own food while alone in her apartment. She revived herself, but then went on a paranoid rant on how she would probably end up dead, alone in her apartment while her cat eats her dead face. I have those panicky moments too. As a precaution I have learned to eat slowly and carefully. I also don't own a cat. On the contrary, I once heard a friend say that she has not had time alone to think for a year, with three children and a husband. So you see, it is perfectly normal to want things from the other side where the grass always seem greener. One day, I was trying to put together a table that I bought from IKEA. I had never assembled a furniture by myself before. As I was sweating profusely while managing the little tools my Dad got me in a toolbox, a thought suddenly occurred that it would have been so nice to have someone to help me with it. But there wasn't anyone. My parents lived miles away, my friends were unavailable and I was not seeing anyone special at the time. I sat on the floor and stared at the pile of wood panels, feeling sorry for myself. I even aborted my construction for a couple of hours. Eventually I got over it and carried on. It turned out to be one of those prominent moments in my life, looking at the fine desk I have assembled all on my own. It was a validation I needed that I was adequate. As much as I look forward to what may happen, I was just as happy with everything in my life so far. And for me, that is the essence one should ever need to keep in mind to ensure you enjoy your life being single. A while after the failed matchmaking attempt, the mother of the guy whom I was set up with called me one fateful Saturday morning. She was a nice lady, but she demanded to know what was wrong with her son, and why I did not want to give it a shot. (Insider Tip: Never answer this question. It is a trap and will get you into bigger trouble)
After I wiggled my way out of answering this, she then proceeded to ask me how old I was. I told her I was turning 28. “You’re already 28,” she said. “What else are you waiting for?” I laughed. But her question haunted me for days. What else am I waiting for? Sometimes I find myself walking up to the doorstep of my apartment, particularly after meeting someone on a date, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Don’t get me wrong. I love dating and meeting new people. Humans are fascinating. Knowing them at a better depth, discovering their vulnerabilities, hopes and dreams is such a wonderful experience that makes my life so colourful. I love the getting-to-know-you phase, twinkles in the eye and the butterflies. In fact, some of the bigger lessons I have ever learned about life are through knowing someone else. But of course there are times when I end up at my doorstep in the quiet, wondering how many more times. But then I open the door to my house and find myself strangely happy. There are the rows and boxes of my books that I spend hours reading at my own time. There is the kitchen bar where I would sit and have quiet morning breakfasts, one of my most favourite parts of life. There are picture frames showing the places I have been to and the world I have seen. I love my family. I love my friends. Contrary to popular belief, being single does not mean you spend your days feeling lonely. In fact, I seldom have enough idleness wallowing about what is not my life. I have a wonderful supportive family and a great group of friends who are always there for me despite their own busy lives. All my time is mine. Everything I own are truly mine. And I love it. By my own standards, I am perfectly contempt where I am. But slowly, there will be these seeps of thoughts that spawn from someone else, telling you this is not enough. There will be two types of people who are interested in your life as a singleton. The first type are those who genuinely care for you and want for you to happy. The second type are those who are just interested to hear your stories of singlehood for their own amusement. The latter will immediately assign a term of reference made of their pre-assumptions about you. Lonely. Feminist. Desperate. Choosy. Trying too hard. Not trying hard enough. That small portion of what they know about you will be the backbone of what they think you are solely about. With time, I have identified these types and no longer tell them anything. They do not deserve to share my vulnerability. A few days ago I attended an ‘Aqiqah’ (a small get-together to introduce a newborn baby) of a good friend of mine for her first born. Her baby was a precious one, and I was so happy to see her finally being a mother, something she has always wanted to do. But there I was sitting there, secretly grateful that I’m not a mother to anyone today. I always thought I never wanted to get married. I will live a free life and see the world and do whatever I like. But then I turned 27 and changed my mind. Similarly, I’ve never thought of myself as mother. But then, who knows what the future looks like? What I have come to learn is that we always think we know what we want, but our visions of our lives are so fluid and could change in an instant. In that spirit, it suffices to have faith that The Superior always knows exactly what we need and when. And everything will happen at a perfect timing. No more, no less. In the wake of my father’s recent triple bypass surgery, I was surprised to find that it brought a myriad of wonderment. One was while I was torturously waiting for his surgery to end, sitting in the waiting area of the ICU, the cold metal chairs doing nothing to comfort me. At a desperate attempt to distract myself from the 5-hour wait, I started eavesdropping to other people’s conversations, those who were sitting around me also waiting for their loved ones.
There was an elderly lady, sat on a wheelchair and chatting up to another stranger. She told the stranger that she was waiting for her husband, who was in a critical condition following a recently diagnosed lung-cancer. She had been sitting there for the past few days. She didn’t want to leave in case her husband needed her. She was 70-something years old. They had been happily married since she was 16. Is there such a thing as a happy marriage that could last that long? My personal answer to that is hugely dependant on what is happening around me at that point of time. At this phase of my lives, I am cornered by a variety of stories from a variety of married people I know – family, friends and colleagues. Gone were the days where my newlywed friends were thoroughly excited with the prospect of just gotten married. There are less selfies wish the hashtag "#happycouple" (Thank God). They are now phasing out of the honeymoon years, and with that came the hard slap of reality. Some were starting to realise that it takes a lot more work than they anticipated. Some were even more sadly, ending in divorce. Some were just downright unhappy, but is probably going to settle for just that for a very long time. But then there are also the ones with a pretty great thing going on. For some friends I know, getting married seemed like the best thing they could've ever done for themselves. My parents, for example, have been married from almost 30 years and I don’t think they could live a day without each other. And how about this elderly lady in her wheelchair in the ICU? Unfortunately for me, what supersedes my fear of being alone is my fear of being in an unhappy marriage. It is therefore that I often ask myself – is it worth the trouble of risking it to see if such a thing as a long, happy marriage does exist? Eventually, as I concluded my thoughts about it, I figured that the answer might be this; like everything else in life, anything is possible. A good long marriage is possible, and a bad long marriage is also possible. And like everything else in life, the resultant is highly dependent on our actions towards it. Perhaps all we need to find is a little bit of faith and little bit more bravery. When I see a Facebook relationship status that says ‘It’s Complicated’, I scoff.
It’s because I don’t think a relationship can get any more complex than one that is of a family tie. If there is one thing I do not like about growing up, it is that as you grow older, the relationships you have had since you were a kid tend to grow too, usually into something even more complicated. I once had a conversation with a middle-aged woman, who told me this – “Kids, when they’re young, you’re physically exhausted from looking out for them. When they grow up, you’re emotionally exhausted. Given a choice, I would pick the former every time.” A family can be either a blessing or a test. Sometimes, they’re both. But either way, it’s a good thing. Loving a sibling, for example, is the strangest thing. You would kill them but you will also probably kill for them. There are days and situations no one else would understand except for your own family. Similarly, in most cases they are the last ones to leave, if ever at all, when things go bad. But unlike spouses, or friends, you don’t get the luxury of picking who gets to be your parents or your sister or your brother. What you end up with sometimes are people who you love but are also the complete contrary to who you are or what you like. You either love or hate a boy, but with a family it teaches you these things; that it is possible to love so damn much and dislike at the same time, there is such thing as having hope while being disappointed, and feelings don’t get as genuine as wanting somebody in your family to have the best that life can offer. These things act as great training ground for when you go out into the world. With other people, you can choose who you keep. But families, especially ones where everybody has grown with different personalities and motivations, will train you to accept. Not everybody fits into your small little box of ‘required’ lists, but you learn to accept them all the same. The patience to be a companion through life even if you don’t see eye to eye on things. The obligation to push your way out of anger and help because of this connection you’re blessed with. The understanding that it is no coincidence that this person is your brother and that person is your aunt, and that everything was part of a meticulous plan to teach us, show us, something. When I was younger I had friends whose families went through a great deal – divorces, fathers having affairs, disabled siblings, early deaths. I used to watch them and thought to myself that I was lucky to have such a perfect family. As I grow older, I realised that there is no such thing as a perfect family. A perfect family requires perfect people, and newsflash; nobody is perfect. Later I came to an even bigger realisation. It is never meant to be perfect anyway. In fact, it is one of the great big tests in life, and how you tend to these relationships will determine whether they will be your saviour, or your curse. Your move. I had lunch with a good friend of mine. We’d known each other for a good few years now, and it’s safe to say that my rapport is an open book to us. As we proceeded to discuss about what our progress and what was going on with our lives, my friend evaluated.
“You never take chances.” That was concluded of me. A glass broke somewhere. Or at least, that was how it felt. Sometimes it takes another person who’s not in the bubble to point out things that were already obvious otherwise. I’m not a risk taker, I realized. Everything that I have done is on the basis of being safe, and of sparing myself from any idea of failure. I am the woman who sits and wait for things to fall on her lap. I am that person who resists change. The signs couldn’t be more obvious. I insisted on settling down in the same area of the city as the one I first landed in when I got a job, because I didn’t want to have to start over in a different place, with different people and a different grocery store. I used the same Goddamn vintage mobile phone until it broke into pieces that I had no choice but to get a new, smarter one. I got an offer to study in Paris two years ago, but wimped out at the last minute because the idea of me being alone in a foreign city with a language I didn’t understand was daunting to me. I never show my true emotions unless I’m 100% sure that my vulnerability will not be screwed over. I kept wearing the same backpack when traveling even when it’s so aged that one of the handles is longer than the other, because well, what if I don’t like the new one as much? I can’t seem to be crossing the line to the next phase of my life, because I see it as a cliff – if I jump I might never be able to come back. I don’t take enough chances in life. What’s the cause of this? Possibly through years of experiencing or witnessing other people take that leap, only to crash and burn. It is an ugly scar that reminds me of the mess I’ll have to clean up if it didn’t work out. It is the fear of things not turning up the way I’d hoped them to be that stops me in my tracks. But if I don’t take chances… well I’d imagine that life would be quite dull. I’ll carry on being exactly like I am right now, forever. I’m not saying right now isn’t great. But I have a feeling if things are still same ten years from today, I’ll be so bored with everything that I’ll eventually join some kind of community chess club. And nobody wants to end up there. That’s plateau-life territory. So I guess I’ll try to take a bit of a risk. Let’s start with having a chicken sandwich instead of the usual egg tomorrow morning. Was 2012 a good year? It was err… average. Everyone is fine and healthy, some good things happened, some bad things occurred, I’m still in one piece and Eminem is still rapping. However, I feel that 2012 is the year of realizations. Which is a good thing, I guess. But it also means that it is not particularly enjoyable, which is why I rated 2012 as average.
This year, I realized that some things are just beyond our control. Without getting too personal about it, all I’ll say is that sometimes, we try so hard to help others, but if it is to no avail, settle with the fact that we did our best, and the rest is God’s plans. It is pretty much useless to fret and be sad over it, because that doesn’t change anything. This year, some of my friends also lost their parents and loved ones. It’s a jolt for me. I’ve been quite sheltered in my life, and although I know of death, I don’t think I ever gave it as much thought as I did this year. When a friend loses a parent, you immediately connect to the emotions – this could be due to the fact that you’re of the same age and are pretty much going through the same motions, and therefore you fit in their shoes and understand the situation better. It made me think of my priorities in life, how I spend my time and whether it is with people who matter to me. While we’re on that subject, I’ve also noticed that I’ve become a lot pickier about friends. Don’t get me wrong, I like everyone in general and I have no intentions of becoming a social zero. But I no longer feel obligated to befriend anyone who doesn't interest me in any particular ways. I am gradually growing out of the people-pleasing phase, thank God. I don't think I could sit through another conversation on reducing tax and business shares. There aren’t many changes this year, physically. I still live in the same apartment. I still know nothing about cars. And yes, I didn’t achieve my resolution to start reading the paper. I think it’s about time I admit that the news is too depressing for me. But I did see a lot of amazing things this year, just as I had hoped. The world is still as beautiful. I fell down the stairs twice. I discovered lots of new, good music. There's a realization that moderation is key when having fun. I finally understood what Missy Higgins said about love never being just black and white. I had some really great times with my family and friends. I met new friends who are surprisingly interesting. I got to know my colleagues better. I made bad decisions here and there. I traveled like I planned. Alright maybe it wasn’t such an average year after all. There is a vase that I have. I place it on a table by the window. It’s the sunniest spot around the house, where rays of sunlight will always come piercing through the curtains and sometimes a light breeze will blow by. The vase is obviously something precious to me, and although I knew that the table by the window is not exactly the safest place to put it, I want it to have the benefit of the doubt. I want the vase to experience everything – sunny days, windy days, rain, rainbows, sunsets and sunrise.
Some days, more often than I would prefer, a slightly strong breeze would come over and knock the vase down. It stays on the table, and I could easily arrange it back nicely. Most of the time it stays unharmed, with maybe a slight chip here and there if it was knocked down pretty hard. I could deal with that. These tiny chips are hardly noticeable. If you look at it carefully you might see it, and it’s a good reminder that the table might not be as safe as you thought it would be. But on the very, very rare occasions, a storm would come by. It usually comes right after a sunny day, which makes me unaware and unable to move the vase before something happens to it. The wind would come so strong and so cold, that it would literally make the vase fly across the room, and smash into pieces on the floor. At this point I would go sweep the pieces up, of course. Then I would attempt to glue it back together. Sometimes it takes days, sometimes it takes weeks, and sometimes if it’s particularly tricky to assemble it’ll take a whole year. Then comes the question – how many times can a vase break until it couldn’t be put back together any more? So far I’ve succeeded in doing so. It has glue and breaking marks on it, but it still looks like a whole vase. But I fear that eventually, if the storm keeps coming and it keeps getting rolled off the table and smashed on the floor, the day might come when only a miracle could make it into a vase exactly as how I’ve first had it. Sometimes I have the right mind to finally get it off the table by the window, and place it in the closet instead. That way it’ll never be knocked over again. That way it will always stay as it is. But then I’ll think about those sunny days that have happened. When the day is just right and you could sit by the balcony and enjoy it. There’ll be a dark cloud now and then, sure, but then they will pass and the day becomes over all, lovely. Flowers would be put in the vase. It will sit there, on the table, soaking up the day and the life it brings. Remembering these things makes me not want to put it in the closet at all. It keeps making me put the vase back on that table, because I don’t want to let it miss out on these wonderful days, ones that made those bad weather forgotten. Dude, come on. You didn’t think I’d be THAT boring to put up a blog about an actual vase, did you? ;-) It’s a common subject. Talked to its death.But like any common dilemma, we’ll keep discussing this until the end of time, because damn it we humans love asking the same old questions over and over again. I define ‘want’ as things that you’d love to have, but are not necessarily good for you. You know, like Ashton Kutcher. ‘Need’ is something we may not particularly look forward to, but would be beneficial in the long run, like vacuuming the carpet. To further demonstrate this, here’s a table of examples. Sometimes I complain that things I ask for, or work for, don’t work the way I plan them too. I figured it was because I didn’t try hard enough, or maybe it’s because I didn’t pray enough about it. Then it occurred to me. What if they’re not working out because I am asking for the wrong things? I think I need certain things in life, but really, how on earth would I know if they’re any good for me? I suppose when things turn out in a different way than what they’re supposed to, it’s a way to show us that ‘hey, you want this, but you don’t need it. You need that instead.’
Hmmm. That’s an optimistic way to look at things in life I guess. Easier said than done, I know. I once sat at a dinner table with a group of friends – old and new. It was a huge group, and as huge groups go, the conversations would split in different ways. The quieter guys will have a quiet conversation on serious business, like work and the news. The more flamboyant group will make loud jokes and laugh, and occasionally attract the attention of the rest of the table. Then there are the observers, the ones that do not join the conversation, but contributes laughs and applause. At this busy table I looked around and overheard an old friend telling a new friend a description of me. I listened to this. And then I realize that less than half of the description is actually true facts about me. The rest of them are, well, ideas about me.
This brought me think about how I convey my message to others. I immediately recognize that I do the same exact thing. If I wanted to describe a person to someone else, instead of telling the facts about that person, I end up telling my impression about that person. For example, a guy who plays video games is now 'the guy who doesn't leave his room ever and lives in the dark with zero social skills', and a girl with a specific taste would be 'the girl who is a downright diva, has no adaptable qualities and a hassle to travel with'. This would eventually explain why secondary information is never correct. Instead of getting facts, we get the impression on how the person looks like to another. Which isn’t right. Everybody deserves a chance to portray themselves to another person all on their own. It’s toxic, this thing we’re doing. We talk about people based on how we feel about them, and not only is it demeaning, it’s downright unfair. As a person who’s on the listening side of things, we too are obligated to understand that there are a few sides to every story, and to only mostly believe it when we see it. But like everything else in life, lessons are best learned when the joke’s on you. I suppose listening to that conversation about me was sort of a wake up call to what I might’ve done to others, and how affected people would feel if these people had heard it themselves. I might try not to do that too much now. |
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