I am enjoying the silence now. I am enjoying sleep. I am enjoying my time alone. I am enjoying the hollowness in my head. Don’t set yourself on fire trying to keep other people warm. I should probably take up on that.

In a room filled with laughter, cries and tantrums of my children, I sat there wandering off to a place where life was good. I sat and watched as birds flew by the window wondering if they have issues of their own. I looked outside and one can only hope that in the silence beneath my screaming mind, my prayers are heard.

Hope means nothing to me now. Hope is an empty feeling. Hope is a jar filled with nothingness but air. Tense air, heavy air. Tiny particles made up of all my worries and anxiety of the future and what it has in store for my children. Hope means nothing. Hope is nothing. Hope is not a promise. Hope is just hope.

What will happen to my children if I die? What will happen to them? Will they be able to cope? Will they be able to move on? Will they hope to see me in their dreams when they sleep at night?

I hope I live long enough to be able to provide for my children things I have imagined and hoped to give them before I rest. I hope I live long enough to make sure that I don’t leave anything behind that could be a burden to anyone associated to me in this life – biologically or not.

My mind is pregnant with thoughts.

I just simply feel hopeless.

 

To brave ourselves to acknowledge and respond to an illness / illnesses is courage. To be accepting of what is invading our body is strength. To fight it is power.

To understand what is wrong and be accepting of what made it wrong is humility. Listen to me. Don’t just hear me. Listen.

Look pass the surface. Look beyond the smile. Surpass all and dive in my thoughts. Would you still like me?

It’s not ready for this world yet. I don’t think that it would survive through this turbulence. I am sorry.

I am sorry for letting the worst get to you. I am sorry that I’ve destroyed you.

Dive in.

They say there is always a silver lining. I say, no, there isn’t.

Denial isn’t coping. Denial is destructive.

Pretentiousness kills.

To understand what went wrong and to be accepting of what made it wrong is humility. To find a way to get through it all is strength. But to understand me and these words, you need to dive in my pool of thoughts. I hope you won’t drown in them as they have made me. I hope that you will stay afloat and prove me wrong.

Rest well. I will see you again.

Society has put on so much pressure into becoming what is considered “normal”. You have to conform to all these standards and prerequisites to be as normal of a person that you can be.

The media and social sites preach about embracing your quirkiness, your uniqueness and all the essences that makes you, you yet will eventually judge you if you wear something that does not look like it’s normal.

I don’t understand. All these talks about being normal is confusing. I would like to believe that I live in the 21st century but why do I feel like we are heading back to our primal age? To a time when everything was a taboo. Can’t wear colours to a funeral because it may seem like you are celebrating instead of mourning. Don’t go see a therapist because that will just mean that you are loco in the head. Act this way, act that way……

I don’t understand the ignorance of mental illness where I live. I also am not  able to comprehend the stupidity of people’s reactions when they are told that he/she or someone is seeing a therapist. Going to a therapist means getting professional help. Like going to the doctors because you are sick. Like going to the dentist because you need an extraction or going to a dietician because you have weight issues. And no one frown upon these patients yet one visit to the therapist, suddenly you are labelled “CRAZY”, “PSYCHO”….

I guess this bothers me so much because I have anxiety disorder and I suspected(more like self-diagnosed) to have PTSD. I also have a friend who happens to have BPD and anxiety. She has been seeing the therapist while me on the other hand, has not. I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder by an outpatient doctor who suspected I got the anxiety following my mother’s passing.

It is not easy to experience all these things. I know because I have seen my friend broke down and she couldnt help it. I couldnt help but think that someone died everytime I received phonecalls from family members. Yet we both are trying to be as normal as we can be.

But, how normal can we be? What is normal when society puts a standard on what is considered so easy to be done. What is normal when you need to get at least 10 checks on the Normal Checklist.

I have never talked about my anxiety openly because people do not understand the severity and its complexity. Mine is mild but it’s not easy to deal with. Mild doesnt mean that dealing with my anxiety is like a walk in the park. The anxiety kicks in without warning. God knows how many times I have to make sure that my front door was locked before I eventually leave the house. (And my brother’s trip to my house to check if my frontdoor was already locked because I was scared that I was only imagining locking the door). God knows the sleepless nights I had when it was pouring heavily outside and knowing my brother or sister was out and on the road. The anxiety and the paranoia is real yet people still expect people like us to be normal.

“Try not to think about it”, “istighfar”, “you’re just imagining it”, “you watch too much tv”…yea maybe we do watch too much tv but even without it, anxiety dont give a shit. If it wants to make you feel vulnerable, it will give you just that.

you think heart palpitations is fun? You think being paranoid over things is like getting a new dreas? You think wearing our hearts on our sleeves is recreational? No.

We are normal in our own ways. People need to stop putting standards into being normal. Mental issues shouldnt be a taboo and shouldnt be something that are to be ashamed of. We are a generation fed with knowledges and have means of understanding what those before us have failed to understand.

So why put a standard into becoming normal? Can’t a bipolar person still be normal? Can’t a bpd person still be normal? Can’t an anxious person still be normal? If plastic surgery that makes you older than you look is considered normal, then why can’t people with mental illness and have been seeking professional help be normal? Harmful? A threat? Every illness when treated is just like any other illness. Stop with the double standards.

 

p/s: it’s late and im not even bothered to check my grammar and spelling.

So a lot of people think I talk too much. Just simply talkative. Ngalih melayan nya urang. And there was at one point in my life that it almost makes me feel like I am less human and less of a person. Because I talk too much. Then a thought hits me. Why is it that I have to conform to the standards of the society and the people around me have set upon me? And since when do I allow these people’s opinions about me define me as a person?

I am not oblivious to the things that are happening around me and around the world. I took pride in knowing what is happening millions of miles across the globe. It is important to me to continuously educating myself and feeding my brain with important facts and information. It is also important to me to ensure that what I am sharing / reading / listening and watching is valid. Hence why, I will try my best to check the validity before I share it with others. I also happen to have a friend who is a walking Wikipedia who reads the Encyclopedia for fun. Yes, maybe you can call us nerds. We took pride of identifying ourselves as one of the nerds from The Big Bang Theory. In the world of TBBT, my friend is Sheldon and I am the Leonard, sometimes Penny. HAHA.

I like to surround myself with smart people. So it contributes a lot to my being talkative and full with information because I like sharing them and stating my opinions. Of course, it’s annoying but you haven’t been around my friends. I can assure you that what you’re getting from me is only 10% of all of us put together.

I will not apologize for being myself. I will not apologize for being the person that I am even if you think I am annoying. I may come across as annoying because you probably are on the receiving end of the conversation and know nothing. It is not my fault if you can’t catch up with me.

My aunts and cousins are all extremely opinionated people. Yes, there were times when things get heated up and ended as arguments but my point is, I came from a strong background. My mother herself was also someone who had strong opinions about so many things which contributed a lot to me being who I am today as a mother, as a wife, as a friend, as a sister, as a daughter and most importantly as a person.

And then there are my friends who are more opinionated than me. Friends who will say that you are stupid in front of your face. Friends who will say the things as it is. No, we are not bitchy nor are we bitter. We are all adults capable of stating opinions. When someone thinks that I talk too much, here is what I would like for you to know,

You clearly haven’t met my families and friends. I will not apologize for being me. Hell, I was in a debate team before so what do you expect from me? To downgrade myself so I will be able to join Bimboville and conform to society’s standards? Na ah. Hell no.

Forgiveness is one of the hardest things in the world to do. I accidentally came across a picture of someone I used to know. Someone I used to be infatuated with. Someone I thought cared about me. As I was looking at his picture, I thought about the million things that him and I went through or perhaps, what I went through and he just came in the picture like a saviour. Or maybe not.

A few of my friends who knew about what happened said that I was just being stupid. That I was foolish enough to believe him and think that he was being true. A huge part of me actually believed or want to believe that they are right but a small voice in my head keeps saying that if things did not happen the way it did, my life would probably be slightly different from the way it is now.

Being infatuated is fun. I was smitten the whole time. I forgot about the real issue back then and carried on with life in hopes that I would feel better. Of course at the end of the day (infatuation phase ends), I felt like shit. LoL! But I had no regrets except maybe knowing him?

Years later or better yet minutes before this post, I saw his picture with his wife and his baby daughter. Precious little girl. And I kept thinking, ”Hmmm..this is interesting”. I was not jealous. There is nothing to be jealous about but this man in the picture was someone I knew. And that he continued with his life nonchalantly after breaking a lot of hearts including mine and never bothered for forgiveness. Yes, maybe it was just an infatuation but the matter of the heart will always be a matter of the heart. It probably meant nothing for him but it would be nice if I had closure. I just want to know what it was and what it meant for him. Not because I am miserable with my life. I just want to know if forgiving him would make me feel better inside and help me move on without wondering anymore what our whatever it was meant for him.

Not that it is a matter of life and death. But I want to know what was going on in his mind when it happened. He came from a good family. I knew him years before this whole infatuation thing happened. In his words, he said ‘it’s a long time coming’. And I believed in him. Now, I do not know if he meant what he said or just said it for the sake of saying it.

I probably sound like a bitter ex-girlfriend or an unhappy wife. Rest assure, I am neither one. I am content with my life now. I am happy with my husband and my children. But what bothered me now is this nagging feeling of wanting to know what it was back then and if he ever felt the need to seek for forgiveness not only to me but to all the other girls who have had their hearts broken.

Your probably have the urge to say ‘Oh god, get over it’. But you see, this isn’t about you. This isn’t about me either. The bigger picture here is the fact that how someone can go through life day by day knowing that he has made mistakes to a lot of people. Because probably to him, it was just like any other Tuesday when he breaks a heart. For someone, it’s probably the end of the world. I remember my conversation with him one night. He was driving and we were talking about the people in our circle and a name came up. A name who was so dear to me and someone who was incredibly infatuated with him. In his own words he said ” God, I owed her an apology. I have broken her heart and that I am responsible for that. She’s broken because of me”. I thought it was an epiphany – at least for him and of course, if I was not so infatuated back then..it could be a sign for me to walk away too.

You see girls, there will always be a guy who will make you feel good in all the right places. Who will say the things you want to hear and who will be there for you when you feel like you have no one. And these guys are sharks. Hunting vulnerable girls who are on the verge of giving up and using that vulnerability against them. Yes, it is nice to have options before deciding on who you want to get married to. I am not promoting cheating here. LOL! It is just that you want to be married to the right person. To the person who won’t make you feel good in all the right places every second but make you feel you are at home regardless if he makes you feel good or not. He will make you feel at home and puts you in your place. The guy who will make you feel warm and fuzzy inside and when he makes you feel smitten, it will mean the world for you.

And for this person I am talking about here, you may or may not get this….just know this, I forgive you even if you think you have done nothing wrong to me. Know that you have broke my heart and for every single second that have come across as an opportunity to be used against me, I forgive you. Allah probably blessed you with a daughter for a reason. And Allah maybe has blessed me with boys for a reason. So your daughter won’t end up making the same mistakes that all those girls have made and for my boys to not end up as heartless as you. I am happy now and Alhamdulillah, all those prayers while we were in that whatever phase you want to call it have been answered. I am happy with the decisions I have made. I love my husband and I couldn’t ask for someone more accepting of me than him. You’d probably think what is so special about him but that is only for me to know. I forgive you for all the things you have done unto me.

Let’s forgive all the people who have done stupid things to us and most importantly, forgive ourselves for allowing them to take advantage and forgive our own stupidity and hasty stupid decision making. I am someone who forgives but never forgets. Maybe when I have dementia or Alzheimers but for now, I will always remember the good and the bad.

Of course, there will always be the light at the end of the tunnel. Even if your journey seems endless, always remember that Allah will always give you the best things in life. 🙂

I have learned over the past few months that there will always be people who say they do care but they actually don’t. And when you do try to keep your distance, they will guilt-trip you into thinking that you are the problem and not them and that you are at fault and have hurt them tremendously.

You know the saying , “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer”? Bullshit.

I have friends. A LOT. But there is only a few that I talk to and tell everything to. Life is funny that way. Sometimes, you want to be dependent on a person with your feelings in hopes that your emotions get acknowledged and that in return makes you feel valid and important. But the thing is, there are quite a few who do care about you the way you genuinely care about them. It’s just life. Nothing odd there. That’s just how it is.

I guess I only have two or three people I talked to about my issues. And only two specifically that I talked to about EVERYSINGLETHING. I guess it all boils down to the people who really want to be there when they say they would. I also believe that in times of need is when you do recognized who your friends are. Who really wants to be there for you and cry with you or at least, help you gather your thoughts properly.

It’s not easy you know, having friends and hoping they would understand you the way you want to be understood. We all have expectations and of course that expectations set a bar to how we want our friendship to be like. We are all selfish in our own way but I try not to. It’s a process.

I am friends with someone who suffers from BPD. Borderline Personality Disorder. Despite the circumstances, she has never failed to be there for me. And that’s the thing you know. You can be as healthy as you are mentally and physically but you can’t be a good person if you choose not to be. You can be mentally ill but still be the best person and friend you can be to someone else. Life is an option like that my friend.

I don’t believe in Karma. I do not believe in what goes around comes around. But what I do believe in is Allah will always answer my prayers and that we are all the same. We are all human who are bound to experience the same things under different scenarios and circumstances.

I’ve cried for help. I’ve cried hoping that someone could just hold my hand (not literally because I have intimacy issues) and say ‘Girl, it’s going to be okay’. And over the past few months, I could only talk to a few. I even surprised myself because some of these people are strangers yet we shared the most intimate secrets.

People can say I am not trustworthy and judged me to be a gossipmonger. Some people also thought that I talk too much. You know, being the same like everyone else is boring. Snoozefest at its best. Why would you want me to be the same like the others? Is it because my personality intimadates you or you just thought so highly of yourself? But then again, why would you think of me that way? Is it because I want to share things with you that led you to think that I am a gossipmonger? If that is the case, then you are just the same because I am pretty sure you tell your other friends and share with them things too. Ha!

I don’t know man. People can be so weird sometimes. They ask if I do have things in mind and when I do tell them, they started to be weird and suddenly thought ‘Shit, shouldn’t have asked her’ but when the tables are turned, IT’S THE END OF THE FREAKING WORLD! IT’S THE APOCALYPSE!

I am not one to betray people. I am nice until you fucked it all up. Just saying.

 

 

Depressing post ahead. Proceed with caution.

Marriage is not simply being wedded to the man or woman you are presently in love with. Well, at least that is always the concept that all of us have been brainwashed to believe.

I am guilty of thinking and hoping that marriage will be like one of those Disney movies where happily ever after will happen eventually and everyone is happy and merry. It took me a long time to understand and accept that a marriage is more than just being accepting of one another or loving each other through thick and thin. Because vows, there are simply words said during a happy moment. But how valid are vows and promises made before the wedding? How far does “i will love you and take care of you for the rest of my life” go?

This post may sound so bitter but I am trying to make you understand that marriage isn’t just about waking up to the person you are in love with. It is more than just the couples’ pictures you reposted and reshared on Instagram. It is more than that. Marriage is work. Marriage requires work and a whole lot more that you will eventually learn when you are married.

Don’t be scared to get married though. Failed marriages don’t mean yours will fail too. But successful marriages will not guarantee you a successful one too. Everyone’s marriages is different. We all have our own obstacles and our own highs and lows.

Being together with someone for so many years doesn’t mean that you know him/her well already. What you see is just the exterior or what he/she has conditioned themselves for their partners to see. Because let’s face it, courting equals putting on your best attitude and ensure your other half is happy all the time.

It sounds simple but try doing that 24 hours  a day and 7 days a week. Would you not be tired? Putting on a front? Eventually, everyone who got married will begin to show their true colours and that is when the real deal happens. That’s when shit is down 😂

Marriage isn’t easy. If you think marriage is like those Disney marriages, you are wrong. Well perhaps if you are lucky and end up with a real life Prince Charming. Otherwise, you need to stop dreaming. A dream is a wish your heart makes but sometimes, a wish is simply a wish sister. Can’t do nothing about that. Sorry to break your happy bubble. ☺️

I was born and raised in an environment that appreciates effort. I was taught and told that when you want something, you need to earn it. Gifts, in my life, were mostly rewards of good examination results or achievements in school. My grandfather, aside from my parents and my grandmother, was and still is one who believes in the power of education and the change that it can make.

I am a teacher. An educator. That means I am primarily a front liner. I see how education evolves and how it builds charisma, confidence and self-esteem in others. I also see how the lack of it shattered hopes and dreams and all the things that the world is ready to offer seem beyond reach.

I have been a teacher for almost 7 years now. I know that it hasn’t been that long but I believe that I have changed some, if not all, of my students’ lives and have somewhat hoped that I have inspired them to be better. It gets harder now. The modern generation of youths are harder to talk to. They are reserved yet open. They are tech savvy yet so primitive. They are so modern yet so backwards.

For 7 years, I have tried to shape lives. I have tried the best I could to make sure that they walk out from my classroom door thinking that they can change the world and break the walls that are holding them back from becoming the best version of who they are. I am sure that throughout the 7 years of my teaching career, I have some students who have changed for the better and they have made it known to me that I am one of the people who have inspired them to change and that, is a gift that I won’t ever trade for anything else.

However, I begin to see the destruction of morality and value. Good attributes begin to fade and youths cherish profanities, vulgarities and rudeness and say that they are the new generation who are open to change and brave enough to have a stand.

No, my child. That is not how it is done.

Vulgarities are not sexy. Profanities do not reflect literature intelligence. Rudeness does not mean that you are intimidating and brave. Those are just reflections of how uncivilized you are. The material ‘gifts’ that you forced your parents to get you may seem like a loving gesture from their part but do you think it is worth it?

This is what is wrong in the world today. Parents who are enablers. Parents who agreed to give gifts for all the wrong reasons. Fail in school, here’s a gift to make you feel better. Got punished and detained in the discipline unit, here’s a gift to fix that angst. Didn’t do homework because you are just not up for it, here’s a game console to release your stress. Too lazy to wake up for school, come let’s go out and have breakfast with mummy then.

And the result,

Kids who are out of control, who throw tantrums even when they are not even toddlers anymore. Kids who are way too young to sit in Starbucks without a chaperon. Kids who are incredibly too naive to have boyfriends or girlfriends but parents say it’s okay for young love will wilt eventually not knowing the consequence of naive decisions.

Stop it dear parents. Your kids are not your friends. They are your children. They are the results of your parenting skills or the lack thereof. You are destroying their lives. You are the reason why they are rebellious, defensive, rude and disrespectful.

It is because you give them gifts or rewards on things that needed punishment.

Think.

Just think about it.

I stood in the middle of my kitchen today and looked around. I looked at the lime green walls of my dining room and the yellow walls of my kitchen. I realised that this is my house. My home. A place where my children will grow up. A place where memories will be made for my little family. And then a thought hit me. My mum is not here to witness all these. She’s no longer around to see how much I have grown. She’s no longer here to see how much I have accomplished. She would have loved my kitchen. She would have loved the yellow walls. She would have loved everything.

I was raised in a household that cherishes memories. My mother was someone who puts pictures in albums, labelled them and stacked them according to the year of when the pictures were taken. Everything was so organised and we used to tease her about it. Now, years after she’s gone..those pictures which were once taken in vain finally meant something. Our vacations with her, our birthday celebrations with her, my parents’ anniversaries, school events and milestones. Every picture in those albums represents of what used to be.

The thing about memories is they sometimes bring you back to a happier time. It transports you ‘telepathically’ to a time and place where everything was in place. Safe and sound. Sometimes I caught myself smiling when a memory of my mother and I came into mind. Sometimes they made me cry. Sometimes they made me stronger.

Those memories now are not just mere memories. They represent my mother’s strength, perseverance, wit, wisdom and spirit. A strong woman she was, my mother. Sometimes, I went back to a time when she held my hand as we crossed the street and how safe it made me feel. Sometimes, I traveled back in time to the day she told me to always pray for her. That day was July 25th 2013. She was about to be wheeled in to the operating theater. That was the last time I kissed her, I held her when she was conscious. The days after were painful.

Sometimes I go back to the day I fought with her and wished I could have done things differently. Sometimes I just played videos of her bathing my son when he was just a baby just to hear her call my name. 🙂

You know, sometimes you think you know a person well. You quickly judge them based on what you see on the outside, judged them based on how they carry themselves and the way they talk and socialised. But there are things about a person that we don’t really know. The pain that they are hiding. The smile that meant ‘life goes on’. The laughter that hides the tears. The humor that conceals the sadness.

Everyone has a story. Everyone has memories where they will go back to and wish they could stay there forever.

I know.

Because I sometimes wish I am at that road again,about to cross it and my mother was holding my hand.

You just have no idea.