Silence descends upon me. I have been sick for the past few days, and it makes me think about my inactivity. I have a tendency to want to stop moving. It frightens me. I know how difficult it is to break the inertia, so once I stopped moving it takes a push to get started again. Each time it happens, I need a bigger push.

What made me so immobile? I think it's a lack of things to live for. Perhaps it's dysthymia, but living is such a tedious concept I can barely grasp it. All I think is, "so what?" So what if I did this? So what if I got out of the rat race? So what if I managed to get a blog going? What matters? Nothing, really. My heart is so tired, the only thing it feels is weariness.

People like us. We have little energy and drive for life, but we carry with us a shell of despair. we have to be selective with how we use them.

I'm sorry this is such a dreary post, but this is how dysthymics can view the world. I know I am part of it, but I know too well that I'm the appendage that serves no purpose. Some people are moms, some husbands, partners, child etc. I'm a child and a sister to my parents and my siblings, but I'm the parasitic one. The non-contributing one. Not like I refused to, there simply was no need to. They're self-sufficient in their own units.

I love my family and all. They got their lives together. They're complete circles and I'm just a circle with some parts overlapping theirs. Remove this circle, they'll still be complete. What am I doing here?

My departure would surely bring unhappiness, because they're used to my presence, and my parents love me to bits. That might be the only good reason for my existence.

He could have been the light at the end of the tunnel for me, but feeling that way is a mistake in itself. No one should be depended upon in that manner. It's simply selfish. I have gotten over him, and it feels like another light going out.

So what else is left? I'm an amateur thinker, and that has kept me afloat for a while. I guess it's what I'm doing now; foraging for knowledge that nourishes my soul so that I would live to see another day.

Growing Up

I watched Laggies, and it reminded me about how easy it is to go adrift in the passage of life.

At 30, I'm not happy with my life. I'm not proud of my job, I'm not serious enough about it. I don't have a relationship. I have friends who don't really know me. I have an awesome family but I'm difficult to understand. My skin is getting bad, my hair stringy, I don't bother with make-up. My self-esteem hasn't improved. Instead of better, I'm just getting worse.

I've got some serious growing up to do.

I'm also being quite the parasite of the family. My siblings are all set up in their respective families so I'm usually putting up at either of their places - tagging on to their dinners, clean toilets, snacks and so on. I feel guilty a lot, but I hate cleaning toilets. So basically, I'm a lazy POS. The most I do is the dishes, vacuum the floor or help out with the laundry. I think they've noticed it.

You may think I can just start changing and help out with the cooking and more cleaning - but old habits are stubborn as hell. I think it is time to move the hell out, but I do not want to move out within this tiny island of a country too. Ah I'm a difficult person, ain't I? It's just plain dumb to pay $650 for a little room with a shared toilet when I'm 30 minutes away from home.

And then there's the stupid dysthymia to think about. I caught a break today, otherwise I can't even write, let alone manage the housework. I imagined if I lived alone, I could at least roll around in my own dirt and wallow in self-pity without feeling guilty. I could also cook lousy dinners and clean up at my own pace.

What do I do then? If I was a friend listening to myself, I'll want to strangle myself. I have an excuse to cover every complaint. But, don't we all? Because change is difficult. Inertia is strong. Stability is comfortable.

But there always come a time when staying the same becomes dangerous. If I don't start changing, I'm just going to start giving up on life unconsciously, because the more you stall the less time you're left with and it becomes a sick sort of excuse to forget about really living. In fact, I think I have already started to give up... I have already started to think this is it, and I'll probably accept it. Can I imagine continuing like that? I can, but it'll be a life wasted.

At times I wonder if this is all I deserved, and the answer would be yes if I keep dodging life.
I need to live. And at 30 I still don't know how. Perhaps no one was supposed to know how, that's why we call it "growing up". I think we're supposed to be brave and move towards our own direction and learn along the way.

So, what's my direction?

I actually know it. I'm paralyzed by fear because I know where I want to head towards and it freaks me out. Oh it frightens me so badly.

I guess no one said growing up was easy.

My Father's Daughter - a meaningful song by Jewel

This song took a couple of listen to grow on me, then it took root completely. I think Jewel's latest album "Picking up the Pieces" is amazing. It is intimate and beautiful, and it's the combination of story telling and music. There are a lot of great songs in that album, but this song makes my voice catch when I try to sing it, because it reminds me of my roots.

Here's the link to the song on her youtube channel:

Jewel's My Father's Daughter

The chorus goes like that,

"I am my father's daughter

He has his mother's eyes

I am the product of her sacrifice

I am the accumulation of the dreams of generations

And their stories live in me like holy water

I am my father's daughter"

The first verse talked about her grandma stepping on American land for the first time, to be married the man she had met for the first time. The first sacrifice. Can you imagine how that must have been like? It must have been scary as hell, especially with the harsh Alaskan climate.

Yet so many of our ancestors did the same thing. This song reminded me of my maternal grandparents, who migrated to Malaysia when China was undergoing the revolution. Grandma traveled with only one change of clothes, that's all she had, to join a population that did not speak her language.

There in Malaysia, they survived the horrifying World War II and build a business of their own, while raising a son and 7 beautiful daughters. They had a rubber plantation and the daughters worked hard to keep the plantation going.

One day, one of the hardworking daughters met a man from a neighboring country, who was on his own journey seeking opportunities. They got married, and the daughter went away to Singapore to live with her husband, away from everyone she knows. 

Mom worked hard here. Dad was having a rough patch, so she had to bring up the kids with little help from him while doing embroidery work. Thankfully, she is very resourceful and made a decent living outsourcing extra work to her friends. I know she had a rough time though, being away from family with little support from her husband. Although Dad eventually picked himself up and life became easier, she still nagged about this 30 years later. 

That's how I ended up in Singapore. I would probably be more resourceful had I grown up in Malaysia, as my cousins are, but the economy is better here and the education system here uses English as the main language. This allowed me to be effectively bilingual, and I'll forever be thankful for it. So thanks mom for taking the leap. 

These events had mostly become a distant memory lying in a little drawer at the back of my mind, but the song brought them back again - the stories of my grandparents and parents. 

It was also the song that made me realize what my grandparents and parents went through are sacrifices. They worked hard to build the foundation so we can have a better start, I am more grateful and appreciative of this than ever before. I remember now that I have strong and deep roots, and the stories do indeed live in me. It's our duty to live our lives fully, so we become worthy stars in the family's constellation.

So, thank you Jewel, for your wonderful story told in a lovely melody. I never thought a song can make me a better person, but this one did.

Closeted

Have you ever missed a place you're not sure exist?

I have, and I still do, ever so often.

This sentiment is known as sehnsucht, part of its definition on wikipedia goes like that:

"It is sometimes felt as a longing for a far-off country, but not a particular earthly land which we can identify. Furthermore there is something in the experience which suggests this far-off country is very familiar and indicative of what we might otherwise call "home"... ...But the majority of people who experience it are not conscious of what or who the longed for object may be, and the longing is of such profundity and intensity that the subject may immediately be only aware of the emotion itself and not cognizant that there is a something longed for."

I find it fascinating that I'm not the only one who felt this way. It had seemed like such an absurd emotion, and no one else around me felt this way.

Though I said "a place you're not sure exist", for me it has always been the United States of America. I often wonder if this phenomena is a result of me being exposed to American music and novels growing up, but it clearly started off as an unconscious preference.

I'm born and raised in a tiny island country called Singapore in the middle of Southeast Asia, which is on the other side of the world from America. I grew up amidst tall flats and tiny man-made parks and fields. My family is very Chinese - is there even such a description? They're Mandarin-speaking and generally prefer Chinese entertainment.

As a child, I got my music from the radio and books from the library. It never crossed my mind to check what the country of origin of the songs or novels was. I only know the language is English, yet I gravitated naturally towards American works. I only realized this bias when I got older.

The songs and the movie scenes that send such a severe pang of yearning in me, they're mostly set in America. As a Singaporean, there's no reason for me to feel for lonely freeways surrounded by wilderness; suburban houses with that beautiful glow in the sky at sunset; or that country tune and nostalgic yellow sunshine, but I do. It almost makes me embarrassed to admit it, because I feel like an impostor, being in love with something that was never in my life.

So it created in me a conflict. I love my family, but something huge is missing from my life. As I write this post, I feel a pang, much like homesickness. Should I pursue this unreasonable homesickness, I might learn that home is where I'm born and bred in, not a place born out of imagination. Or I might learn that there's something more to the concept of home. Until then, I'm left to wonder.

Ugliness Unleashed

Between a desire to start a new life and the fear that I won't be able to cope, I've stirred up a lot of imperfections within me, I've unearthed some emotions I haven't been able to face, and I've forgotten the magic music has over me.

On the internal landscape, I've been struggling with a lack of energy and a desire to do more. I've been considering my resources and becoming selfish about sharing it - time, energy, money etc. I live with my sister and her family, so there are more chores to be done, and naturally I need to do my part. But I got mad sharing my time and spending my energy on these events because I know these could be spent resting or building my dreams. When I don't do them, I feel guilty.

I thought about how much time I can save if I lived alone. There will be lesser dishes and laundry to do. Or if I didn't have my cats, I won't have to worry about litter etc... I don't know how things got so far and how I got so selfish. I want to say it's because I'm so lethargic everyday - the lethargy is a persistent feeling permeating my chest and radiating towards my limbs, but I'm afraid it's also my selfish and lazy nature. That said, I love my cats and they're decently cared for.

On the external landscape, I'm struggling with a desire to pursue my dreams and a fear of going it alone. Why would people want to read what I write? Would I have enough ideas to support a blog? Do I write well enough? I want to live in another country - can I do it alone? Would I be able to get used to another culture and start all over? Who am I to think I can manage?

At 30 my social skills aren't good, my navigation questionable and my dependability... never tested. I don't have skills, and still have the shadow of social anxiety following me around. I haven't been brave enough to break through to the other side. There's also the depression and insecurity to cope with. Do I trust myself to survive in another country? I honestly don't. I'm so flawed it's disgusting.

Altogether, it's just extremely overwhelming. God it's hard to breath. I know worrying does nothing, and I'm sorry if this post created negativity.

I need to take it step by step, and stop questioning if it will work out eventually. What is life if I don't live it the way I want to right? It's better to start from scratch learning something I believe in, than to continue with what I'm comfortable with knowing I don't love it. I need to readjust my mindset, be brave and break out of this negativity. I know I am flawed, it's just something I have to keep working on.

For now, I'll take a break, a breather and then start again.

If you're feeling the same way, do know that you're not alone. I wish you all the best, wherever you are. I hope you're pursuing your desire, no matter how obscure it is or how far you are from it. Doing anything else would be wasting our time on earth, and our time here is precious and short.

The Inconvenience of Dysthymia

I don't usually write about dysthymia, but I think it's time to. I'm not sure how much people who were never afflicted with dysthymia understand about it. It's essentially a chronic form of depression that is milder but more constant. It's present more often than not, over a period of months or years. Sometimes we get an episode of depression on top of it, and we call it double depression. It sucks.

I'm not experiencing an episode at the moment, thankfully. How does dysthymia feel like?

It feels like nothing, actually. It can manifest as numbness, a lack of emotion, sadness, heaviness, or all these at once. The limbs will feel heavy, the mind will feel dulled and energy would be low in general. I hate it.

Because of its chronic nature, it changes the life of the dysthymic. It affects the choices we make and the sort of jobs we take. It causes much difficulty for us to attain our full potential. Most of us could have achieved so much more if we weren't sick from it. A lot of us can't take up full-time jobs because we have too many down days. I would never say it's mild. It's destructive.

It affects our social circle because we don't have the motivation to go out. When energy is scarce and gatherings don't bring you joy, you just want to stay at home. It is not that we don't love our friends, we simply don't have the capacity to socialize at times. One night out with friends could mean exhaustion for the next few days.

It affects how we take care of ourselves. Because of our low energy, simple tasks become terribly difficult, this includes anything from getting out of bed to doing the laundry. To make things worse, dysthymics have a hard time feeling motivation and satisfaction, so it takes a lot of coaxing and determination to get anything done.

Take me for instance, I have been wanting to improve my diet - to eat clean, so I've been juicing. Though it's a simple task, the thought of juicing nevertheless fills me with dread because I think about the preparation work and feel overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed by washing and cutting the fruits the night before and then putting them in my nifty nutribullet the next morning.

I know how it sounds.

I can assure you it's not laziness. When I'm better, doing those things aren't a problem at all. I can make lunches the night before and do housework like normal people can. It is when I'm sick that doing these gives me an overpowering sense of dread. And this sickness is chronic.

The best I can do is try to ignore the dread and push myself through the motions. When that's done, I don't feel much. I'll just be dreading the next night's work. And this is only one aspect of my life. Put the same dread on commuting, 9 hours workdays, 5 days workweek, week after week. It's a constant dread we need to battle with.

And I wonder why I'm always exhausted.

I will forget

Max is reminiscing. Reminiscing about him. The man she fell so deeply for. The memories were brief but beautiful. She remembers her hand on his face, tracing the side of it, touching his beard, memorizing his lips, the tip of his nose, she remembers the kisses; his eyes, dark and brooding. She remembers. She remembers.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart hurts from these memories, but they're all she have now, and she is trapped in them.

"I am dreaming about something that belongs to the past," she thought, her hands cupping her face, "I keep telling myself there's more, there's more, even after all the cards have been laid out on the table. There is no more! There is a story, and some memories, but more is not in it."

With the distance between them, it would be more logical for her to forget him, but all she forgets is that she has become a good friend to him. So she made herself read her old texts, and screenshot the part where he said she's a good friend, that he's not capable of feeling more. Now that the words are sinking in, she wants to make herself remember that, and snuff out any remaining embers.

"It is difficult, but I will."

"I will forget you." She promised.