The objective

Lol. After I calmed down a bit, I was able to see more clearly and ask myself – what’s my objective again? What is it that I’m trying to achieve by being vulnerable with Mother, by opening up and being truthful?

To build connection, right? To get closer. To build intimacy within my relationships.

Is that going to happen if I opened up to Mother? On the one hand you mustn’t decide on other’s behalf what their capacity for anything is – you never know, they might surprise you. And also, by never opening up you’re depriving them the opportunity to learn and grow – but on the other hand, ignoring what you already know about the people around you is also not smart.

Perhaps one day I’ll arrive at a happy solution, but for now, I’ll learn to be content about the life that I currently have.

New character unlocked

So I’ve been in therapy for just a bit over a year now; the first session happened to be on Ms. Martyr’s birthday last year.

Anyway, so today we were trying this dialogue with your inner child activity thing and I fully expected the 8-year-old to show up.

A 25-year-old showed up instead. She’s a 2D character drawn in white ink over a black paper. She had long flowy hair, and had on a little shapeless, flowery dress – such as a child would wear. She’s just floating around in this space that’s black because that’s the colour of the paper, but she’s serene there. Not happy but not unhappy, just zen. There are so many stars in the distance. Just so many. Infinite.

Come to think of it now, this is the same girl I saw when I had my major breakdown after breaking up with Mr. Strategist, that morning as I was going to work. It was a major breakthrough as well, to be fair. But yeah, the same girl. But she was a little girl before.

She didn’t look any different, tho. Just the age – that was the only different thing about her. Or maybe she was completely different, I don’t know. The younger girl did not say anything to me, I don’t think so. She kinda just looked at me and when I grew emotional, she was the one who tried to console me. She let me put my head in her lap and she kinda just cradled my head.

I’m too sleepy to do this right now, but I’ll need to ask her how long she’s been there exactly. Does she remember when she first got there? Was there anything different there then and now? Did she ever want to leave? Has anyone ever visited her?

So many questions. It takes guts to listen to her. Am I too sleepy right now, or am I scared?

A moment of quiet

I just got back from muay thai and I just wanted to note that I was happy today. At least I think I was.

What’s “happy”, you ask? Hmmm, IDK. But when I was at the gym I stood in front of a punching bag and usually my thoughts would be so noisy but today I looked at the bag and well, I looked at the bag. The end. There were no voices in my head. It was just… serene. And I could punch the bag but today I just punched the bag. Nothing more, nothing less.

And that’s not to say that everything in my life has suddenly gone smooth-sailing. But today I managed to complete two tasks at work – which is big for me. And then I started tinkering with the suicide paper and I feel that I understood something. How to analyse things. Like, it’s not that I have to go find any random thing someone has said about adjectives, but I could look into relevant linguistic theories and use those to support my analysis and interpretation. Once this thought occurred to me, I wondered what I was confused about before. When people tried to explain things to me for like 12000 times, how did things just fly over my head? But that’s learning for you, right? Sometimes it’s just the ZPD – it takes a bit of time for you to close the gap.

And a certain Mr. Pirate has landed in my life. I’m confused about this guy because so far I genuinely like him. I mean it could be all the rose-tinted glasses all over again, but IDK, it kinda feels different this time. But I am taking things slow, and not jumping to any conclusions, and not getting attached to any outcome whatsoever. If we develop then we develop. For now, he’s pretty chill and that’s cool.

BUT here’s the catch: he has two daughters from a previous marriage. Gosh. On the one hand children are a dealbreaker for me. Like I like them, but I cannot imagine being that maternal figure for anyone. I do not want that responsibility, and if we’re being completely open, then I have seen the complication with Mother’s situation and I do not wish to repeat it. Oh, but you have a good relationship with your step-father, right? So you have one positive model of step-parenthood, no? Ummmm, no. Dad has definitely been kind to me, but it is complicated nonetheless due to the step-hood. No thanks.

But on the other hand? On the other hand, since I’m not getting attached to any outcome, there’s nothing wrong with dating this guy, right? Or will that be unfair to him? IDK. Can you have a partnership with a guy where you accept his children, but you don’t play any maternal role in their life? Kinda like if you’re their dad’s friend – you won’t be expected to play any parental role then, would you? When should you discuss such a thing with a guy, anyway?

So the point is – my problems are still there and I’m still confused about things but I had a brief window of quiet where I was content, and I just wanted to note that.

To the man in Thailand

Seriously. What are you doing? Just what are you doing being here every day? Are you okay? Are you still drinking? Are you getting enough sleep? And why are you still in Thailand? I thought you’d head off to Taiwan or Australia by now. In any case, I hope you were able to put out the fire satisfactorily.

I’m not talking to you. I’m not. I’m just here shouting into the void. That’s what I normally do to process things and get through stuff. This blog is probably my strongest coping mechanism. And I don’t quite regret sharing it with you. I don’t care in that sense. It’s just that, if you were someone else, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest. But we have a lil You’re so vain situation going on here. Like, I’m not talking to you but because you’re here I’m also not not talking to you.

Because. It’s just that. I. Fucking. Miss. You.

I’ve always been pretty good at letting go of anger, and now I’m no longer angry at you. Which makes it a problem for me. Because whenever I think of you, what comes to mind are all the sweet moments we shared. I have to actively remind myself of what happened between us, remind myself you’re not right for me, remind myself to leave you alone.

And I am leaving you alone. I’m just screaming here in my safe space. Will you leave me alone? Will you let me scream into this void without having to think about how you might construe or misconstrue things?

Because I know we are over. And I want things to stay that way. And I’m working on letting you go. And I have. But it’s just that. How brief our affair was. That was the thing. It was so brief I didn’t get to see enough of the ugly side of you. The parts of you that are incompatible with me. There was not enough time between us.

What that left me was mostly sweet memories and a mountain of possibilities. What if what if what if. What if I didn’t jump into bed with you so impulsively? What if I had initiated a proper discussion with you when The Incident happened? What if.

This is why deaths of celebrities at a young age are doubly tragic. The possibilities. What could they have achieved if they weren’t taken so soon? What would we have been if we had more time?

Again, I’m not talking to you. I’m just putting my thoughts here – you just happen to be here. Why are you here? I wanna say your being here doesn’t affect me but that’s a lie. Once I realised you were here, I check the stats every day, and every single day you’re here. I tell myself it doesn’t matter one bit what you do or don’t do, and then I log in and look for residual, lingering traces of you. And if I’m being honest, it feeds my ego – the fact that you’re here – I must mean something to him if he’s still around. I think my heart would break all over again the day you stop visiting, and I’m not talking to you, I’m not, but please. stop. visiting. Please break my heart properly. I need you to break my heart properly so I can finally move on.

Unbonded

Wait. What.

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This… is exactly what happened with Mr. Strategist? Except that I refused to beg for scraps and left.

Do you know how confused I’ve been about Mr. Strategist? Like, I know only I can give me closure and I told myself that I’ve got it. I told my therapist that his chapter has ended and I know that, but something felt off about the whole chapter. Like, it just made no sense and it lowkey bugged me.

It’s making complete sense now.

Heyyyyy. Good job me! High five!

Shards of me

I find that I cannot get him out of my mind. To be fair, things are still so fresh as it has only been a few hours and I should be patient with myself as I grieve us, but it is so very distracting. Then, as I was driving back from muay thai, I had a little revelation: maybe if you forgave him, it will be easier to move on.

Forgive him? Sweetie, why would you need to forgive him? He’s not the one you’re angry at.

And just like that, the revelation turned into an epiphany. The one I’m actually angry at – is myself.

I was the one whose body grew cold all over when sex was being discussed, who then decided to ignore the cues of my body that I was not ready for that discussion at that point.

I was the one who did not abide by my own rule of getting tested before proceeding sexually.

I was the one who did not honour my own boundaries and rushed into having sex.

I was the one who made all these choices, and they ended up being the wrong choices. To move on, I need to forgive me for making these decisions at that time. The damage is done, the lesson will be learned, but for now, forgive yourself and extend to yourself compassion.

In order to forgive me, I need to understand me: why did I do all this? What was I trying to achieve by ignoring all my hard-earned lessons? If what I wanted with him was a forever-after, why did I need to jump in bed with him during our second meeting? Couldn’t I wait until we were a bit more solid? After all, he had said that he did not mind waiting. So what need was this behaviour serving?

From the purely physical aspect, I really do enjoy sex, but such a reckless behaviour must carry emotional and psychological significance. After all, this was clearly a pattern. I did the exact same thing with Misters Virgo and Liberty. When it took a while for us to end up in bed, it was the men who exercised control: Mr. Atheist because he wanted me to be sure before taking my virginity, and Mr. Strategist because I had told him my story and specifically asked him to help exercise control on my behalf.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? I’m highly aware and clear-headed every time I’m sitting here analysing my behaviours, but the moment I meet any man and start to consider a romantic partnership with him, any semblance of logic fled the scene. This is regression, isn’t it? When you get triggered by whatever your triggers were, and you regress into your default coping behaviour from before, from when you were less mature.

What then were my triggers? Not sex because I lose my head way before then. The possibility of sex? But then, what has happened in my life to make that a trigger? Because, clearly, this is an underlying condition that predate my liaison with Mr. Atheist even. And why is jumping heedlessly into bed with them my default reaction?

Could it be that I was using sex as a shortcut for emotional connection and intimacy? Which, that would be a singularly stupid strategy because sex doesn’t build connection – it merely strengthens existing bonds.

Then, if we take the reverse of that logic… was I subconsciously trying to sabotage any budding relationship with sex? I don’t know, I really don’t know. Which, of course, confounds the hell out of me. All I can think of is right now is my disorganised attachment style: could it be that while one side of me desperately wants to connect with people, the other continues to perceive people as threat and tries to protect me?

This sounds kinda logical, but I am not convinced. I think, every time sex is involved, my thinking is closer to YOLO. Mostly I am heedless, unthinking of the consequences. Like a starving prisoner who knows the meal served is laced with poison but who gobbles it up nonetheless.

That’s an interesting simile that I’ve coughed up. Hints at a deprivation that must be overcome, even if the solution is double-edged. But surely I can’t be sex-deprived? Is that even a thing?

Oh. Apparently, you can be sexually frustrated. Which, as a single girl – makes sense. But I am not convinced of this line either, because if this was the simple case, then I’d be jumping from man to man with carefree abandon. Instead, what I hoped from each man was sex and a stable, strong, and healthy partnership. The sex is easily achieved, even if it comes with a price, but I’ve never been able to obtain the second, and actually more important, part.

I think if I’m seeing Lance Sweets right now he would tell me to take sex off the table completely. The next time you meet a man, just tell yourself that sex is completely off the agenda until your relationship is rock solid. Not just as long as you declared a relationship – because it’s the easiest thing to verbally declare that you’re official – but until you have a solid foundation in the relationship and feel completely safe with him.

As I type this it occurred to me that this last bit is tricky. We’ll need to establish a proper checklist for it, because my mind would be completely clouded when I’m triggered and went into regression. Because like, if we took Mr. Liberty as an example, I felt completely safe with him until the cloud cleared and I realised I did not know who he was, not really. Like, his biggest gripe with me is that I would suspect that he was a conman, but really, I have no evidence that he wasn’t. In my heightened state I took his word at face value. If there were niggles about his identity, I dismissed them and assured myself there would be plenty of time to find out who he really was. And then I did not give myself the opportunity to discover who he really was and jumped into bed with him. After clarity set in, I wondered why I did that. What was I in a rush for?

Well now, that means we have to two tasks to settle. First we need to pinpoint what is really causing all this mess underneath, because I’m still not convinced of any of the theories we’ve listed here. Secondly, we’ll need to come up with a checklist of what it means to feel completely safe with a man. That will have to be a homework for now, but make sure to define it clearly for physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual, sexual, and financial safety.

Homai. That is going to be a whole book.

Well, no rush. At least until you complete this checklist, can you please have some self-control?

One final thing I’d like to note here is the sudden shift in perspective from I to We to You. I noticed it now as I was typing because as an English teacher, I thought, why are you being inconsistent with your pronouns? And then another side of me countered that I wasn’t. These pronouns are exactly right. And now I’m sitting here thinking, are there different me’s? Is I the clear-headed me and You the triggered me, and I’m telling me that We, that both sides of me are going to have to work together to achieve an equilibrium? By that logic, too, interesting how I seems to want to have nothing to do with the checklist – until you complete this checklist – and I is clearly judging You for lacking self-control.

My oh my oh my. What the hell.

Attitude

[Any dialogue is not verbatim – they might not even be in the right order: they’re my impression of the exchange.]

So “although there was no problems with my marking”, I was kicked out of my MUET marking group because of “attitude problems”. What problems you ask? Apparently my asking a lot of questions during central marking was “an embarrassment to [my organisation]” and causing a lot of stress to everyone involved.

Mind you, I was not directly informed in anyway that I was being dropped. Instead, the our group’s Head Examiner was going around asking people for suggestions of who could join this session’s marking, and some friends were like, hmmm we don’t know who else to recommend since [me] and [my friend – who is also outspoken – and also kicked out] are already on the list. To their surprise, the Head Examiner told them that our names had been dropped.

Honestly, it’s not about the money. I don’t think they pay nearly enough to make a fuss about it. But I want the job to maintain my KPI – you need such extra tasks to complete your yearly achievement report. Besides, though I don’t teach MUET, marking it has taught me many little things that enriched my understanding as a teacher of English in Malaysia.

When I went to see the Head Examiner to “volunteer” (I decided there was no point in pushing the point with this kind of people), she could not even look me in the eyes.

“Oh, you can no longer mark because your name has been dropped. Why? You need to ask you Group Leader,” she said, typing away on her computer as if she couldn’t pause for two minutes to talk to me.

“So if I managed to square it off with my Group Leader, I can join the marking again?”

“That would depend on [officer] at the Malaysian Examinations Council’s decision.”

“Is the [officer] unhappy with me?”

“I don’t know. It’s all in the report. Ask your Group Leader.”

If she took her eyes off the computer for a second maybe it’ll melt, I don’t know. In short I knew I would get nothing from her so I left. I called the Group Leader. No answer. I texted her. No answer. So I went into the staff room and there she was. Again with the not-meeting-me-in-the-eyes.

Anyway, “[Group Leader], I’d like to volunteer for MUET marking.”

“My group is full!”

“Then, can I join another group?”

“I don’t know. Ask the Head Examiner.”

“She asked me to ask you. She said my name has been dropped, and that there was a report about me. May I ask what it’s about?”

“Eh, don’t tell me you don’t know. You must have a feeling of what you did wrong.”

“No. All I did was my best. May I ask what you wrote in the report?”

“You should know yourself what you did.”

“I’m really not aware. If I did something wrong, please let me know so I can amend it.”

“There was nothing wrong with the marking. But it’s an attitude issue. You questioned everything. Questioned the council’s decisions. You made everyone stressed by your attitude.”

“Oh. I hope you can see how it was my first time and I was still trying to learn the ropes.”

“Then you should have stayed quiet and observed. Instead you made comments as if you’ve been marking for 10 years. The other teachers don’t like you, and it made us so embarrassed that you’re from [our organisation].”

“I see. Perhaps we experienced things differently, but I seem to remember the other teachers having the same questions as me.”

“No, they didn’t like you. They all said you made things stressful unnecessarily.”

“OK, but that was my first try. Is there no second chance for me to try again? I’ll adjust my behaviour.”

“I’ve given you a very good opportunity already. I actually had doubts about you, but I still gave you the chance and hoped that you would prove me wrong. But you didn’t.”

“There’s no second chance at all?”

“You squandered the opportunity I gave you. Once the report is written, and we have a problematic marker like you… I don’t know if you would be given another chance.”

“But why was there no consultation before that report was written? How was I supposed to know what I’d done wrong?”

“You should have known from the way you behaved.”

“Then why did you not informed me directly about the report, about dropping me from the rotation? Why did I have to hear it from the grapevines?”

“You shouldn’t have needed to wait for the grapevines. You must have known, must have a feeling.”

A feeling of what? That you… hate me? For asking questions? For trying to learn the proper way to do things? Since there was no room for negotiation there, I thanked her and left.

Yes, I still thanked her. Because I didn’t know what else to do. I was just in utter shock at that point. At the audacity. The sheer betrayal. I don’t know about you, but the Head Examiner and Group Leader are senior colleagues at work who I look to for guidance and this was what they did to me? Instead of helping me to make corrections, they simply filed a report to the Council about my supposed attitude problem, thereby tarnishing my professional reputation even though they could not complain about they way I marked and submitted things on time.

They might as well have kicked me in the stomach; it wouldn’t have felt any different.

As I related this story to my Japanese gang, to which my fellow kickee (is there such a word?) also belongs, another work friend who’s an old hand at MUET marking came in. “What happened? I came in and saw you in a tense conversation with [Team Leader]?”

“Tense?”

“Well, her voice was raised.”

I didn’t even register it. I was more focussed on how evasive she was and on the unfairness of the whole situation. Anyway, from the discussion with the friends, Kickee and I decided to call the [officer at the Council] to ask for a second chance.

I didn’t manage to get through, but Kickee did. Kickee explained that her intention was simply to clear out our tarnished names because we were simply in the process of learning how to mark. Apparently, all this was news to [officer]. According to him, the Council wouldn’t simply suspend any markers – and anyway only he has the power to do so. If he received such reports, the markers would be placed in a different group for observation before any further actions are taken. But yes, our names are absent from Group Leader’s list for the September rotation but never mind, [officer] will place us in a different group for November’s rotation.

Anyway, I’m much too tired to formulate the lessons learned from this episode. I just wanted to write this down because I know if I didn’t I would forget everything but for some reason, I feel this incident is an important life lesson that should not be forgotten.

Not all those who wander are lost – but I am

Is competitiveness a virtue? Well, if it is, then I lack it.

What a funny thing to discover at the start of the 20s. And during such an unlikely time, too: I was trying to pass a car on the highway, and they sped up so I just fell in behind them. Like, I had no need to be in front. If they’re at a reasonable speed and don’t do ridiculous stuff like braking for no reason then I’m content to follow behind.

And just like that, I realised that I’m not ambitious. I have relative financial security; I’m happy with my job; I have stuff that I enjoy doing outside of work; I have a few people I care about in life. In short, I’m content.

If you asked me, where do I see myself in 5, 10 years’ time – I genuinely have no answer. I’ve never had the answer to that question, actually; I’ve just never realised it. When you’re young, there are certain traditional checkpoints that you’re expected to meet and I think I confused those as being my ambition. Now that I’ve ticked most of the boxes – well, as a young, relatively successful woman, about the only conventional thing I “lack” are marriage and children – and the adults more or less leave me alone, I’m really actually living a life without direction. I wake up, I go to work, I come home, I binge on dramas, I go hiking on weekends, and sometimes I read. I’m happy with this life so far – but is this it? Is this what I will do until the day I cease to exist?

And once I do, I will just disappear into nothingness. I have no legacy to leave behind; no offspring, nothing historically noteworthy, nothing that will remind the universe that I was ever here.

Why am I here?

Why am I here? Well, not here here but here.

Lelaki idaman: all grown up edition

When I was in my mother’s hometown, we received a visit from an obscure busybody aunt who made it her business to matchmake people. My mother, sister and I were staying with my mom’s eldest (and only) sister, whose two children, like my sister and I, are unmarried.

Her first ‘brilliant’ suggestion was that I married my cousin, my aunt’s youngest. Now, he’s a perfectly decent boy, and growing up he was a favourite playmate, but I don’t think he’s for me.

Obscure Aunt said, ‘Why not? Why, with that face, you can’t afford to be choosey.’

I decided to overlook the insult. Even during the moment it was more amusing than hurtful because of how tenaciously singleminded she was, but I would have to disagree with her. I mean I’ve always known I’m not a looker, but that doesn’t mean I have no positive qualities and that I should grovel at any man who so much looks in my direction. I’m sorry, Obscure Aunt, but as I am the one who will have to live with the decision, I will choose, and I will be choosey.

I used to have a long list of requirement for the man I was to marry. It’s not that it’s obsolete – I really haven’t changed that much – but now I think it all can be simplified into 2 questions:

1. Would I be willing, for better or worse, to spend the rest of my life with this man?

2. Could this man be my partner in raising my children?

Squished potato

At 24, could what I’m itching to do still be termed running away from home?

The parents are still at it. I’m not sure what either of them is trying to achieve, but it has become unbearable in the house.

The thing is, I wouldn’t even just disappear. Yeah, I’m planning to be sneaky about it, but I’m also gonna leave them a note. When I think about that note and what I’m gonna put in it, I realised that I should ask myself this question: Why am I doing this? What am I trying to achieve? And I knew I would put this in the note: “Gone to friend’s house. Will be back in a few.”

Why leave a note? Well, because I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I’m quite clear about my objective. True, it’s because I can no longer stand the apprehensive atmosphere at home, but that’s secondary. If I’d simply left, the whole thing would be reduced to an attention-seeking act: the parents might reconcile temporarily out of the shock, and then once I’m located and scolded, they would go back to their cold war, I’m sure of it. No, that’s not what I want at all. What I’m trying to do is simply remove myself from this problem that is not mine. Some problems are yours; some are simply close to you. And this really is none of my business at all. If I removed myself, the parents might be able to fight it out or talk it out or do whatever it is they want about it without having to consider me. Although, frankly, I don’t feel considered at all. No, on the contrary, I feel like a pawn. Like my mother expects me to take her side because, well, she’s my mother – but like I said, this was none of my problem so I had quite time trying to be absolutely neutral to her and my stepfather.