An Explanation and An Apology

First comes the justification

A profiling test I once did at work classified me as a Blue Zone ‘Influence’. The ‘Influence’ part is defined as “an active behaviour in a friendly environment with a desire to work with people, build relationships and build enthusiasm”. A “High Influence” individual is distinguished by their spontaneous action, an ability to work well with people, persuasive by nature, and usually generates high levels of enthusiasm. I can see you nodding right now (Nod, I tell you!).

If you look at the chart produced from the test, the results are plotted on a (top positive to bottom negative) scale, with the top-most and bottom-most part of the scale (extreme positive and extreme negative) coloured Blue. Any scores in the Blue Zone denote an extreme and unstable nature – usually, under stress, these Blue Zone personalities will flip and become the complete opposite of their normal personalities. If a person is a negative Blue Zone I, they are usually very introverted, but will flip to become extremely friendly and sociable under pressure. And, as in my case, a positive Blue Zone I will flip to become extremely hermit-like and prickly under pressure.

Needless to say, my results raised quite a few eyebrows, esp from my dad (High S & C with a synthetic I).

Now comes the explanation

In the last few days (okay, not days, weeks, even months) I’ve caught myself withdrawing more and more into a shell. Don’t ask my why, because I can’t tell you. I myself have no idea why. I’m perfectly happy for you to suggest why, in the hope that if I understand it, I can overcome it.

I find myself most content sitting in my room with a book, or playing poker online, or just watching River Cottage recorded on my Astro Max.

I resent telephone calls from people who I would count as my nearest and dearest, and I avoid all others. I do not want to listen anymore, or care anymore, because it feels so tiring. To listen and to care.

I delay appointments and meetings as often as I can. And if I make one and something comes up, I feel elated. Relieved. Almost as if I’m glad I don’t have to put on a show. Meeting my friends (whom I love very very much) is a gargantuan effort for me, emotionally. And it isn’t that I don’t enjoy myself when I see them. I do. Very much so. But getting there requires getting over this huge emotional wall in here *patting chest*, shouldering down and saying to myself – Come on. Let’s go. You know you’ll be okay when you get there.

I’m the one who used to plan these meetings, make the telephone calls, host the parties. And now, everything’s changed. I’ve flipped, so to speak.

A humble apology

I’m truly sorry. To my loved ones, whom I’ve ignored and cold shouldered over the last few weeks and months (you know who you are), I hope you will forgive my bluster and prickly edges. I know how nasty and resentful I sound, even though I know you’re just trying to reach out to me. I cannot take you on right now, even if you’re only trying to distract me, or even though your problems are a lot bigger than this patch of self pity. If it were 6 months ago, I would be there, at your side, ready to slay the dragons. But not right now.

I’m trying to resolve this, but it seems like an insurmountable mountain. I still love you, I truly do. But I need space right now, and I hope you understand. I don’t know if the space is good for me, whether it will help me get over my disgusting self whining, and I trust you to know that you want what’s best for me. If you have any other methods, please try them, but be prepared for me to resent you for it. For now, anyway.

If I’m sharp and quiet and disagreeable, please bear with me, or stay away for now. I know its very selfish and a lot to ask, but I hope that you’ll still be there once this phase blows over.

Sometimes, I feel like crying, for no good reason. Like now, as I’m writing this.

It IS self pity, I know, and I hold it back for as long as I can. And if I finish this now, maybe the welling will stop.

My thoughts are disjointed. I hope this makes sense. I am, again, so sorry.

The Crash

In the midst of exams, being sick, juggling expectations, I give up. On fighting, on caring, on life.

I’m done.

I find that when you get onto a speeding bullet train like the one I’m on, it’s impossible to get off. And so you just pray, that when the crash comes, you’ll survive it somehow. Because you’ve just right run out of steam to try and save yourself.

It’s like starting a poker game with 2mil under your belt and losing hand after hand, riding on the worst losing streak you’ve ever known. And at first you get angry, and upset, and not a little bit annoyed that your flush gets beaten for a full house. But the streak is unforgiving, is never ending, and you reach a brick wall, only realising you’ve hit it when you find yourself a million down, getting the same lousy hand over and over again, and not caring anymore. You don’t even try to rationalise the odds. You know you’re gonna lose, but it’s the only thing left in your life, good or bad. So you stick with it. Just drawing the cards and folding them.

Whatever lah.

Quickie.

Still alive.

It’s raining outside. I stayed under the duvet the whole morning, snuggling up to a man. In a book.

I passed my Principles of Taxation *conga*. First pass I’ve had in a long time.

First Week of 2009

Well it’s barely past the gate, and already 2009 isn’t looking too great.

It always hurts when you find out someone lied to you. It’s worse when it’s your friend. And it cuts even more when this person claims to be your best friend. Or rather you theirs.

Various theories came up. One person suggested that I had imposed unreasonable expectations and it was my fault that I am disappointed. Interesting idea. But the more I thought about it, I couldn’t bring myself to accept that it is unreasonable to have expectations. And honesty amongst friends isn’t an unreasonable one, in my opinion.

Someone else said that I should have known this person wasn’t trustworthy. That everyone had seen the lying, except for me. I was quiet. Naive perhaps, but I thought that even if this person lied to everyone else, the lying wouldnt extend to me, the best friend.

But a brunch meeting today, with a dear friend helped me put things in perspective. This friend and I, we’ve been crutches for each other, through bad relationships, through insane ones, and even when absolutely nothing was wrong (I still think its easier to be friends when things are bad, than when things are good!). He’d been going through a rough patch himself and was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Actually, he’s pretty darned positive about things right now.

And I realised, this was Fate’s way of taking out the deadwood out of my life.

There might come a time when I feel nothing but good feelings towards this ‘best friend’ of mine, but it isn’t today. And if and when that day comes, good for him. But for today, I am making a stand.

If you cannot respect me enough to give me the truth, despite everything we’ve been through and despite everything that I have done for you, then you cannot call me your friend. I revoke that privilege. And the lies that you tell insult my intelligence – for only a fool could believe them. And I may have been a fool to trust you, but I am not fool enough to swallow that farce of an excuse.

So go. Be well. I hope whatever it is you’ve done this for, is worth it.

Sink, Swim, Sink

I’ve been saying over and over again that 2008 hasn’t been a good year. That’s not to say that nothing good has happened. Looking back over the months, there have been one or two bright spots.

• My article was published in “March 8: The Day Malaysia Woke Up”
• TGG (The Gentle Giant, not to be confused with my GirlyGirls) came into my life
• Ann got married (technically this straddled over 07/08 since she got married over the New Year)
• Huda had her Number 1 (boy), Sharmila had her Number 2 (boy) and Ann’s waiting to deliver her Number 1 any day now (another boy)
• Coming Out of the Closet (it’s a play! I’m not a lesbian!)
• Closing my first M&A deal
• Starting Islamic Finance work

Then again, there have been plenty, plenty, plenty, plenty, plenty not-so-bright spots

• Big accident with the van which my parents still don’t know about (making me RM800 ringgit poorer)
• Failing Tax and FR, and failing it again upon retake, and again upon retake.
• Aunty Roline passing on
• Having my heart broken
• Being ‘asked’ by my parents not to do reading which Kee Thuan Chye invited me to do
• Having an emotional meltdown
• Iman not getting into Oxford
• Global financial meltdown
• Boo leaving Deloitte
• Angela leaving Deloitte
• Starting Islamic Finance work

Here’s hoping the remaining few days of 2008 pass without any more incidences. And here’s to a better 2009.

A Prayer

I don’t remember things hurting this much. Even back then, with TE. Perhaps it’s true – every relationship will hurt more than the last one. Except that isn’t quite true either.

There is no sense of relief like I felt when it ended with S. Yes, with S, there was that sudden pang of panic that made me think “F! What did I just do?” but that quickly passed – more of a need to have a backup than a real need to be with him. And even my sexy sweetie from Dublin, inasmuch that I still think he’s a hottie, didn’t cripple me the way I now cannot move, think, breathe, without missing him with every fibre in me. And the irony is that we were never together. How can something I never had be worth more to me than something I actually had? Perhaps I am losing my sanity after all…

Even in my sleep, I dream of waiting for him. When I wake, every minute is spent wondering whether he is thinking of me, missing me, trying to make amends. If I had even a step in my direction, I know I would break ranks and run to him. But he has not even given me that one step. The word foolish runs through my mind over and over again, but my heart aches. Perhaps it would be better to be a fool, a happy fool, than a savvy woman with a broken spirit.

My eyes are sore from tears that have already been shed and tears that I cannot shed anymore. Sometimes, I think the ache would lessen if I could cry. But I can’t. Something is stuck inside me, perhaps. Maybe it’s called hope. Something foolish, no doubt, to match the rest of my thoughts.

People have asked me if there is anything wrong, and for the first time in my life, I cannot find the words. I hide from them, but I don’t know why. Something’s wrong. Yes. I’m trying to fix it. Trying.

I know this is not the worst of things that could happen. I know that if I lost Boo, or Nads, or Bern, things would be much, much worse. At least now, I am not overcome by a sense of panic, just the pain. An overwhelming pain, but just the pain nonetheless. But this is about all I can cope with right now, and still put on my mask in the morning and go to work. Work. I never thought it would be such a blessing to be so busy, but right now, busy is all I’ve got.

Please God, take away this pain. I was foolish, to want something that I could never have. And foolish again, to reject what little I could have. I’ve learnt my lesson, I promise. Just take it away. I promise I will never reach for things too good for the likes of me. I’ve learnt. I swear.

Emancipation III – Snow White

 

When Swift met Resolute
It was opportune -
So I took it.

Delete? Continue?
Are you sure?
Impudent little voice.

Stay strong. Yes.

And just like that
You disappeared
Like the fairytale that you never were.

The murder of Prince Charming
Yet it was my heart in the box.

Emancipation II

It drove me mad, your
Indifference
Everything was tinged with a blase shrugging
Of responsibilities.

You wound me, with your pretense of caring -
Not wanting to intrude was just
Code
For not wanting to be around.

Translating this painful silence
With your dictionary of reality -
The one you take so much pride in
I did you a favour and shut the door.

Only to find, that without you,
Everything hurts so much more.

Emancipation I

Would you sit by me
And wear tinted glasses
As I wax lyrically about the
Blue moon?

Keep your logic and realities.

Don’t break my spectacles
Just because
You don’t want to dream.

Legacy of Women

 

In the 1930s, women didn’t have very many options, or so Wan would say. It was very well and good that their counterparts in the Western world had won the right to vote, but as far as Malaysia was concerned, a woman was still expected to do as she was commanded.

 

Wan was a clever woman. At a time when most women were still illiterate, she was a bluestocking. History fascinated her, and she read voraciously. But she was a woman, and the reality was that women of her era had no place being anything other than a wife and mother. And despite her managing to evade marriage till the ripe old age of 18 (her peers were married at 14), she had no choice but to bow to her family’s wishes. So she married a man she didn’t know, much less love, and bore 4 sons and 4 daughters, 7 of whom survived to bury her.

 

She raised her daughters to strive for what she could never have – an identity that was not all about home and hearth. She wanted more for her children than what was given to her, to become people greater than she could ever be. She gave them the freedom to choose where to find love and family. And when they achieved all that and more, she thought them happy.

 

After all she had broken the legacy of women as chattel to give her daughters a chance at dictating their future. What else is there to want?

 

-x-

 

Wan’s daughter-in-law, Pap, was born from that generation of women who wanted more for their daughters. She was raised to know that the roles of women who came before her no longer applied to her, and that she was free to carve out a future for herself, within reason. Some conventions, however, were still sacred, and when the time came, she married and settled down. With the expectations of society around her, she learnt to juggle her role of wife, mother, employee, in-law, and friend.

 

From 9 to 5, she was the working woman who fought against the institutional gender discrimination borne from years of male machismo. And when she clocked out, she left the bristling female emancipist at the office, to return home to be the good wife and mother. And if there were times when the injustice of being considered a man’s inferior got to her, she never showed it. The reality was that her day job was merely a part of her night job – to help feed and clothe her family.

 

Through her 2 daughters, Pap dreamt for greater things. She raised her daughters to know that they were equals of any man. They could choose what role they wanted for themselves, whether to be a wife, or not at all. She taught them that they could be whatever they wanted to be, as long as they tried hard enough. Be the best, she would say, and reach for the stars. Never settle for anything less.

 

She had given her daughters the gift of choice, and broken the legacy of subservience that was forced upon her. And when she and her mother-in-law, Wan, sat down for a cup of coffee together, they would regard each other as equally battle-weary warriors who had dreamt of a better life for their daughters.

 

-x-

 

And so came forth Kai’s generation – women of the 21^st century who inherited from their mothers an unquenchable thirst for success. She believed what her Aunty Pap taught her – that anything was possible. Drawing pride from her high-flying career, she embraces everything – marriage, family; with the same spirit, the same need for perfection. She is Superwoman and Mother Theresa, all wrapped in a wool Armani suit and 3-inch Ferragamo heels. Changing a dirty diaper with her left hand and exercising a call option on wheat with her right hand, she is in her element – the benevolent career woman who is short on quantity but big on quality.

 

In her quest for the perfect marriage, the perfect children, the perfect career and the perfect life, she finds herself trapped. And every time she falls short of the standards that Society imposes on her or those that she imposes on herself, she punishes herself, and pushes herself a little harder. Every second wasted on mopping up spilt juice could have been used to structure a new deal, and every minute spent rectifying a mistake at work would have been better spent tucking in the little one to bed.

 

Until one day, she realizes that the life she fought so hard for, that her mother and her mother before that fought so hard for, is no longer her own. All she feels is a weariness and panic that overwhelms her when she wakes up. That same weariness and panic she has to put aside because she doesn’t have time to stop juggling. And now, faced with the hopeful angel eyes of her daughters, Kai is stumped.

 

It is our legacy, the women of Kai’s and my generation, to be tired.

 

So what do we teach the women who will come after us?