Breaking Point

Yesterday. I felt like it could have been my breaking point. I have had episodes like that with him, but now looking back, it feels like it was more intense, more unwarranted, more of a shock to my system, and a confirmation... That I'm alone, and unloved. I never needed attention, validation or proof of love, but it felt like something inside me died yesterday, after all that. Maybe I had killed myself. Somehow, in some little way. Maybe I had already put a knife through my own heart. With all the things happening around me, all the lack of support, and all the poisonous words coming out of our mouths, I can no longer live like this. And I know something has to change.

I was just reading about how a mother killed 3 of her children. And of course, it sounded so evil at the time. But after reading a bit more about it, doing a little research, it seems she was drowning, emotionally, psychologically, after moving to a new city and being left alone with the children. And she asked for help, she reached out, she told people, but nobody stepped up to help her. Of course, I still won't condone what she's done and to the children, the poor innocent creatures who didn't deserve this. But I can definitely understand her angle and her struggle. 

I know I would never do that to my children. I love them very much. And I want them to have a good happy future. I don't want them to remember anything that happened yesterday when I was screaming at Papa, and Papa was rude to me. And Oma came in and started blaming me as well. No one can see that I was trying my best. It's always my fault. And he says, he always says he isn't blaming me. 

But the words he used, the words he always uses, "But you're the mother. You are the mother, you decide." And this reminds me of the very annoying thing that Oma used to do, judge me and tell me what I should or shouldn't do with the children when they were just babies.And then when we went for a pram ride, she'd ask where I want to go and I'd think, oh, you're so opinionated, you think you know everything better than I ever will. "Why don't you decide? You tell me where you think we should go for a pram ride." And she'd chuckle and go, "No, no, you decide, you're the mother." And my thoughts were, what the hell? Why would you leave a menial, trivial, stupid decision to me because I'm the mother and when it comes to everything else to do with their nutrition, sugar, cakes, water, sleep... suddenly I'm not the mother?

I am only existing, surviving, and am emotionally drained. I am relieved that I do get a lot of love from the boys, yet that feels erased when Papa suddenly blindsides me with something hurtful. Maybe because I left everything I knew and built over the years to move across the world. It was for him but it was my choice. I have trapped myself.

There are still little points of light. Such as when one of the boys suddenly hug me, look into my eyes and tell me, "I really really love you so much." I guess that keeps me going.

Pockets of Peace

I miss Bhutan. I felt peace there. It was a slightly complicated time in my life but definitely not as worrisome as my current state of mind.

I find peace in pockets nowadays. Imagine that. Little pockets of peace being hawked on the streets. A little bag to keep safe in your jacket, your bag, or your... well, pocket. And when the world gets too much, you just have to pull that bag out and take a whiff. And all is calm.

Damn, that sounds like drugs.

Well, you can't be addicted to peace itself. You appreciate this peace and you know it's how you choose to react to the world. Your response and your understanding of the larger picture. Your choice to step back and make time for peace. Or is it? It is, in fact, the opposite of an addictive substance which can apparently solve your problems via your state of mind within minutes. However, it does not last forever and the repercussions can be tragic.

I think peace can be learnt, lost, re-learnt, and shared. Oh but what do I know? I am but a human soul trapped within this physical prison of a body in this realm for now. Perhaps that is why I long for peace. And I will try to make time for it. And take it. In the little pockets I find.

I Like

So I was thinking about what makes me smile or excites me. I usually don't give in to them so it is quite necessary for me to list, and remind myself, what I like...

• Slowly allowing the skin, and sometimes fat, of meats, to coat my anticipating tastebuds and the inside of my mouth.

• Savouring sweet, light, crunchy macaroons.

• Taking long yet comfortable plane rides by a window, with the yummy compact inflight meals and a little movie screen.

• Tasting the velvety warmth of dark chocolate melting in my mouth.

• Chomping lots of thin crispy potato chips all day long.

• Devouring grilled and glistening chicken or pork satay with rich, oily, hearty peanut sauce.

• Messily gorging on oyster omelette, without any oysters, fried with sweet chilli paste.

• Drinking good laksa. Yes, drink.

• Drinking my aunt's curry, then licking the bowl clean. Yes, lick.

• Mouthwatering dim sum, especially Xiao long pao! Need I say more?

• Stuffing entire servings of kueh pie tee and popiah into my mouth so I can experience the full glory of the dish. I look like a hamster during these feats.

• The occassional kaya toast with cold butter.

• Anything with avocado.

• Relishing in the smooth, rich, healthful goodness of a delectable sesame tahini cake from Cedele.

• Going nuts over macadamia nuts, pine nuts and pistachio... nuts.

• Waking up just to cuddle with my sweetheart on a rainy morning when we don't have to go out.

So there. I realise I do not try to make these things happen. Instead, I gladly accept them when they come my way. Also, I am excellent at staving or procrastinating the fulfillment of my desires. Might be why I clean up everything on my plate, beginning with my least favourite flavours and wrapping up with my favourites.

Hmm... Almost everything is food! Now I am hungry.

Meee ow

I draw a few silly things from time to time. Here is one.

Cats are interesting creatures. Sometimes they strike me as selfishly defiant. Me-ow, emphasis on "me". Sometimes adorably attentive. Big round eyes following your every move. Such close scrutiny. Either you are sooo loved, or sooo dead.

What You Want, Can, Believe

I was riding the train one evening when I overheard the docile conversation between two women, probably in their late 40's or early 50's. One of them stated, matter-of-factly, "At our age, we gotta do what we want, buy what we like. As long as I can fit in that dress, I will get it. Don't think so much. Gotta make yourself happy. Don't take jobs where you gotta stay at work so late. Nowadays everyone wants to tie you down."

It was an interesting moment that I was allowed into their world for a minute or two to hear that.

Another evening, I was reading about astral projection, something I have been trying to do for a while now. I found a blog by someone who did it, and met a teacher of some sort who told her something to this effect, "A belief in these abilities is not essential - it is more important to remain open and willing so that the beliefs that you hold do not stop you from realizing your abilities."

Now that seems applicable to anything and everything, I think. Which means there is so much more I do not know, such as whether or not any of this is indeed applicable elsewhere, though believing it is means that....

Return of the unblogging blogger

Private. Secret. Lazy. All applies to me as a blogger.

I cannot fall asleep so this quiet blog is now rather useful. Like a quiet abandoned toolshed in the woods that I bought ages ago but have selfishly kept from everyone else... I can find a little peace here with me, myself and I. With a new app (yes, since the last time I wrote, or typed, here, I have sort of "upgraded" to a new phone), I can now easily update my future self of how my present, or past as it shall be seen from the future, life is going.

I am going to try, yet again, another round of astral projection. Wish me luck, me!

Keeping Mum

My mom is hilarious.

Since living with her, I've noticed how adorable she can be, albeit demanding.

She says I'm playing computer games when I am checking email.

Since she started a facebook account, she wants me to add every TV personality she likes.

She absentmindedly keeps her home cordless phone in her handbag, then accuses all or one of us of taking it.

She cannot have a quiet day, so has to go out or have friends over. Then complains she is too busy.

She initiates so many meetings and calls, yet complains that she has too many phonecalls.

She exaggerates EVERYTHING.

Hmm, did I exaggerate that too? Heheh.