Lately, I've been struggling

Struggling with trying to grieve the unexpected loss of a close colleague and friend. I've never lost someone I saw on a daily basis and finding my way around this maze of grief is so new and unexpected to me and I don't know how to deal with it. One day I'm fine and the next moment there's a lump in my throat. Another day there's anger, at the doctors and circumstances just being out of everyone's control.

Struggling with letting go of a dream I thought I would spend the next few years chasing. It was only a short and brief few months I spent pursuing the dream of owning a cafe and now I'm having to refocus and figure out what to do next. This dream may not be a "never", but it's definitely not a "right now". But it's challenging when you're trying to make a good business succeed in the sort of economy we live in, coupled with lack of experience and limited capital to run with.  It's tough, knowing everyone had cheered with you to see you finally chase a dream you've held for years - and then having to backtrack and explain to people that the dream has to be put on hold for now. 

Struggling with moving on from one full-time job, to freelancing and juggling two part-time jobs. I remind myself of the reason I'm so passionate about owning and running my own business - to make more time for family by being able to manage my time better. But I'm quickly realizing that even when you're your own boss, if you've spent a lifetime cultivating the habit of being a people pleaser, even though you think you have control of your time you still end up frittering it away, trying to make everyone happy. And that reality is a tough pill to swallow. 

I'm struggling with being newly married and trying to deal with all these changes at the same time. There are days, although they feel few and far in between, where it does feel like the "honeymoon period" people so often talk about. But the truth is, most of the time, it feels like I've been thrown into the hard, gritty work of trying to make a marriage work and deal with life at the same time right from the get go. In my naive idealistic teenage dreams, I'd take a month off work to prepare and plan for my wedding. I ended up working through all these other life transitions and my wedding came in second. I told myself it's just "one day", and I know in the long run I might be proud of choosing to focus on other important things instead of planning a fairytale wedding, but right now, it's hard not to compare myself to every other bride who seems to have all the time in the world to hand make her decorations, accessories, bouquets, and so on. 

I'm struggling with dealing with an eczema flare up that has now lasted for seven months. All the above transitions has stressed me out so much that no matter how much money I spend on creams, supplements, watching my diet, and going for skin calming facials, the redness and itchiness still doesn't go away. I had make up not only on my face, but on my hands the day I walked down the aisle because of my eczema. Did I look beautiful? With make up on and in pictures, perhaps. Did I feel beautiful? No. I felt like I was hiding. 

I've been struggling with getting enough sleep. I toss and turn for hours before falling asleep and I struggle with getting up in the morning because my bed seems much more appealing than trying to deal with another day of slathering creams over myself, trying not to compare myself to every other beautiful person I know, trying not to be overwhelmed by all the sadness and loss in the world, trying to take care of myself better and not always be so worried about what people think, and just trying to stay positive and strong. 

I've been struggling with just getting older and having more to deal with. As a teen, even though I had wild mood swings and periods of aimlessness as well, I always managed to bounce back and stay optimistic. But I realize now I had so much help from parents, mentors, and leaders who kept constantly checking in on me. 

I'm struggling with being an adult. As an adult, it often feels like I can't be the one whining anymore, and I'm supposed to have a few more things figured out, be looking out for others, instead of just letting others look out for me. As an adult, it's harder to admit that you're struggling. Because it's seen as a sign of weakness and incompetence and everyone, friend or acquaintance, could eventually become someone you work with or do business with - and work is he last place you want to be seen as weak. I struggle, yes, but I still get up and get the job done as little as I feel like it. I just wish it was okay to admit that more often. 

I'm struggling with saying the right things, expressing it the right way, and trying to make people understand that it's not any one thing in particular, that I'm not being withdrawn for no reason, that I'm not avoiding lengthy conversations because I don't want to talk to you, but because I don't know how to honestly answer the question "How are you?", and that I'd really like to explain all this but I don't know how or where to start - except through writing. 

So this is my start at trying to explain what feels like the longest year of my life so far. 

Water: The promise of hope and renewal

I was watching Yann Arthus-Bertrand's documentary, "Home" last Sunday with the fiancé (I have to get used to not saying boyfriend!) and was particularly moved by the part of the film which talked about the earth's water cycle.

"The Earth's water cycle is a process of constant renewal.

Waterfalls, water vapor, clouds, rain, springs, rivers, seas, oceans, glaciers... The cycle is never broken.

There's always the same quantity of water on Earth.

All the successive species on Earth have drunk the same water.

The astonishing matter that is water.

One of the most unstable of all.

It takes a liquid form as running water, gaseous as vapor, or solid as ice.

In Siberia, the frozen surfaces of the lakes in winter contain the trace of the forces that water deploys when it freezes.

Lighter than water, the ice floats.

It forms a protective mantle against the cold, under which life can go on.

The engine of life is linkage.

Everything is linked.

Nothing is self-sufficient.

Water and air are inseparable, united in life and for our life on Earth.

Sharing is everything.

Our Earth relies on a balance, in which every being has a role to play and exists only through the existence of another being.

A subtle, fragile harmony that is easily shattered."

As Malaysia faces an onslaught of drought coupled with haze due to forest fires, and having gone two weeks without water at home, I was struck by how much we take this simple privilege of running water for granted. In the past week, my eczema and sinuses have flared up all over again, leaving me desperate for rain to come again soon. The word "drought" seems far too primitive for a modernised, connected city like Kuala Lumpur - and yet if I pause long enough from my high-speed urban lifestyle it hits me that the lack of water is in fact an everyday reality for so many other countries. In fact, those who have less of it probably know how to value it more and use it more efficiently.

For me, lack of water is an inconvenience - maybe even a pain. For others, it's a matter of life an death. Almost 770 million people around the world do not have safe, clean water to drink. 2.5 billion people don’t have access to a proper toilet. And every day, 1,400 children die from diseases directly linked to unsafe water or a lack of basic sanitation facilities.

The news that this water rationing will continue for another whole month and that our dams are just slightly above 40% water levels (below 40% is considered critical) almost seem straight out of a novel or a newspaper archive. With choices and conveniences just a click away, it seems so out of place that our modern, high-tech society can be brought to a halt by the absence of something so simple and often overlooked as water.

But nature humbles us in that way. Be it snowstorms, thunderstorms, sandstorms, tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes, typhoons, hail, drought, famine, epidemics - nature puts us in our place and reminds us where we stand in the grand scheme of things. It shows us that our self-centered perspectives of the world are merely illusions and we are so, so fragile. So connected to the earth in billions of intricate ways, most of which we have only the faintest idea of. And when we don't care for the environment around us like we should, we pay the price.

Forest fires are not natural. Vanishing rainforests are not natural. Rivers that stop flowing into the sea are not natural. Depleting mineral and precious metal reserves are not natural. They are the result of greed, self-centredness and arrogance, each generation before thinking they were the center of the universe, that resources were unlimited, without ever stopping to think there might not be any left for the generations to come. It breaks my heart to think about all the diverse species of flora and fauna that have been wiped off the face of the earth completely - whichever theory you subscribe to, either species that were so painstakingly and artfully crafted by a master craftsman, or species that fought long and hard to change, grow, adapt and survive in order to become what they were.

Sometimes I wonder how we can undo the damage we've done. What can a few hippie tree huggers with a bunch of signed petitions and slogans do to change the way businesses operate for economic profit or to change the tide of endless consumerism, the quest for more and more material wealth? Thinking about it all makes one feel very, very small in the scale of things.

But water teaches me the important lesson that life is a cycle of renewal. And renewal simply means restoring things back to their original, untainted state. With every sunrise, new season and every rainfall, comes the promise and hope of final, and ultimate renewal. A day when all the damage we've wreaked on the world will be erased once and for all, and we will see life as it always should have been from the start. In seasons like this, my soul aches and longs for that day to come. 

"May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears"

The week Alex that told me he had asked my parents blessing to marry me - was the week I flipped out and considered calling the relationship quits. In fact, I asked for a one-week break from all forms of communication so I could think things through without distraction. Call it cold feet, commitment phobia or whatever you may, that week was one of the main turning points of the relationship... the point at which I knew in my heart that I had made a decision and there was no turning back.

This was in January... and fast forward two months later, when he finally proposed last weekend, my "Yes" seemed like the most natural thing in the world to say. Because I'd already taken a long, hard look at whether this relationship was something I could see myself devoting myself to for the rest of my life.

I've always wondered how it felt like to 'just know' that you're ready to spend the rest of your life with one person. I'd never ever felt that way in any of my previous relationships. There was always something that didn't quite fit, that didn't add up. In my logical, pragmatic mind the best thing, when in doubt, was always to let go and move on. Preserving my freedom was important to me, and the whole notion of 'settling down' didn't quite sit well with my perspective that a relationship should be an adventure that opens you up to more of life's possibilities, instead of narrowing your options down.

Yet there were many times I wondered if I would end up on the shelf after everyone had 'settled down'. So, afraid of being alone, I settled time and again for guys who were not too bad. Who treated me nice and were generally good people. But they didn't share the same values and dreams I had or the same thirst for independence and adventure, and it just wasn't enough.

I often wondered if I had the most unreasonable demands. I felt guilty in every relationship I got into, fearing that I would somehow never be able to match up to the other person's expectations of what an Asian girlfriend should be like. I was often told that I 'intimidate' guys, because I liked being alone too much, had way too many opinions about everything, loved adventure, hated routine or repetition, and was incredibly self-motivated and driven to make something meaningful of my life, even if it meant leaving other people behind if they didn't share the same ambitions.

But I knew I wanted a man, not a boy. Someone whom I didn't have to hide my true colors from. Who was comfortable enough in his own skin and confident enough in his own ability to handle me for who I am - headstrong, stubborn, opinionated, independent and all.

So I decided to stop dating just because I was afraid of ending up alone and unwanted. In fact, I decided to stop doing anything just because I was afraid. I wanted to stop being motivated by fear, but by hope instead. After being disappointed and having my heart broken so many times, I desperately wanted to believe that there were better days ahead. I knew that change began with me, and with not being afraid to hope for what I really wanted.

I have never been the most optimistic person. Being highly pragmatic, I've always tended to be critical, pessimistic and judgmental. I could be a master in the art of imagining worst-case scenarios. But I decided to stop using my personality as an excuse.

I chose to believe that life is what we make of it. If we choose to be positive, no matter how bad things are, we will always find a silver lining. If I choose to live in a way that is big-hearted, generous, adventurous, and on occasion, all-out crazy, then I will attract someone just like that to do life with.

Maybe it is unreasonable to expect so much out of life. Do I really deserve it anyway? Maybe not, if I chose to think that way. But I believe that we attract - and accept - the love we think we deserve. If we value ourselves, we will find ourselves surrounded by people who value us. I wanted to believe that I was worth the kind of love I hoped for.

Nelson Mandela once said, "May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears." That was the perspective I held on to as I stepped away from years of unhealthy mindsets, wrong assumptions, warped perspectives towards relationships and bitterness from the past.

And as I did, I stopped being so afraid. I stopped being afraid of 'settling', or on the other end of the scale, of 'being alone' because I was too afraid to settle. I stayed open to hope. It took many tears and many nights of soul-searching, but I had to let go of stupid fears like the fear of not reaching my target of being married by 24. Like the fear that it would just be a matter of time before I start feeling suffocated again like in all my other relationships. Like the fear that if Alex really knew me for who I am, he would think twice about wanting me. Or the fear that memories and hurts from our past relationships would be carried into our current relationship.

I was gripped by fears like these when I called for the break. We had been having several heated arguments in the weeks leading up to the break, and there were times it felt like we were on completely different wavelengths. Out of fear, I retreated back into my safety zone and distanced myself emotionally, distracting myself with work. At that point in time, work seemed genuinely more rewarding than the relationship. It made no demands, asked no questions, had no expectations. It gave me results in return for effort. So simple, uncomplicated, fuss-free. So unlike relationships.

And there I discovered my biggest fear - not that he wasn't right or the relationship wasn't right - but that I wasn't right. I wasn't ready to lay down my life to submit to another person, I wasn't willing to give up my rights and my independence. I wasn't good at dealing with my own emotions - how could I possibly be able to deal with another person's heart?

So I told him I needed some time out to think the relationship through, expecting a backlash and a questioning of whether my heart was really in this relationship. I expected him to fight, to cling on and try to persuade me to talk things out instead of just disappearing for a week, to start thinking and fearing the worst. If he did, I would be able to use that as the basis for why we would never work out anyway. But he didn't.

He said, okay, go ahead. And I began to sense that finally, here was a man in tune with my heart, who knew I needed some time to sort things out. Who was not afraid of losing me if it was for the better, who held me as loosely as he held everything else in his life - as gifts loaned from God for a little while, to be cherished, but not owned. Who knew that as much as he wanted to fix things, he wasn't the right person for the job.

In that one week, I went to the One and only person who could do that job. I poured my fears out to Him - that I was not good enough, that I had commitment issues, that I didn't deserve to be loved. And as I listened to myself, all I heard was 'I', 'I', 'I'. He gently began to remind me, that the cure to all my fears was to fix my eyes not on myself, but on hope. Hope for brighter tomorrows and for grace to guide us through every disagreement. Hope that we will not only survive the tough days, but that those days will draw us even closer together. And hope that the reason we are in this together is because the potential for what we can do together is greater compared to what we can do alone.

By the end of the week, the fears stopped mattering so much. I saw enough hope in the relationship to know I want to give everything I have to make it work. I know I'll have to keep working at it, keep seeing enough hope in it, keep letting go of the fear, but for now, my "Yes" is a start. A start of saying yes to learning to be less selfish, discovering I can still be myself and go on adventures even when there's someone beside me (it's actually more fun!), and learning that where there's faith, hope and love, there's no room for fear. 

We accept the love we think we deserve

There's a popular saying that goes, "We accept the love we think we deserve."

For a long time, I wondered about the kind of love I was accepting. I wondered if my standards were too high and so I lowered them and settled, over and over again, for 'good enough'. I often tell people I've dated and met enough guys to know all the different types there are out there. I used to wonder if there was 'someone better' out there, something I was missing out on by choosing to settle with the best guy I could find who wanted me. Time and time again, it never worked out.

There was a season in my life that I used to wonder if it was just people like me - the soulful, free spirits who need space to dream and wander and explore and discover new adventures - that struggled with the thought of meeting the right one and finally 'settling down'. Those two words never quite sat well with me.

The idea of committing to someone who would become my best friend, who knew me inside and out, who brought out the best version of me, was certainly appealing - the old fashioned, old school kind of love where a guy would take risks just to impress the girl and win her heart, and where she would enchant and captivate him by her beauty and grace. The part of it that did not appeal to me, however, was giving up my own interests and dreams.

During that season, I used to think that the only way for me to truly be happy was to not be tied down - to hold close the people I connected with, but without being exclusive. Giving them their space to be them - and having my space to be me. Yet there was always the part of me that craved the knowledge that out of all the other people in the world, we chose to be faithful to each other.

My main struggle was how difficult it was to be completely myself and completely honest with the other person in committed relationships I'd been in. Once you start caring too much about another person, you start thinking you own them. You try to control their actions and choices. And oftentimes, you end up suffocating the other person.

It's different with strangers. With strangers, you can be completely honest and transparent - there's no withholding who you are because you are afraid of hurting the other person. Find the right time and place (late at night in a quiet location usually works well), and it's not difficult at all to pour out your entire life story and deepest darkest secrets to a mysterious, enchanting stranger over coffee or drinks. But try telling someone you've known for some time the things you struggle with the most, and it's not always as easy to open up. How will they react? Will they see you differently? Will they be angry at you for not telling them earlier? Will they try to give you unwanted advice? Will they want to be around you any less? There is so much more at stake.

Maybe you can't be lovers in a committed relationship, I thought. Maybe in committed relationships, the love is a pragmatic type of love based on companionship and mutual acceptance and understanding. The passionate, romantic kind of love is reserved for relationships that exist purely for the purpose of enjoying each other without the messiness of tying each other down with commitment. In my experience, relationships I'd been in had either been sparks and no commitment, or commitment and no sparks, neither of which suited my taste.

This month marks the 15th month since I started dating Alex. In my books, that's a record. One year and a quarter is five different seasons that have come and gone. In those seasons, I've changed and grown and had my perspectives turned inside out so completely that I feel sometimes like I'm a different person altogether. One of the things that past fifteen months have taught me is that it's worth choosing not to 'settle', but to keep hoping and holding out for the best.

Two years ago, I wrote a blog post about things I look for in an ideal partner. Some people told me my standards were too high and unrealistic, that I should look at myself first before asking for these things in a partner, some even questioning whether I worth all of the things I was looking for and asking me what if I found a guy who was all those things but who didn't think I was all that awesome. In fact, I got more flak than positive feedback from writing that post (you can read the comments by following the link above if you're curious). But I'm glad I wrote it, and I have absolutely no regrets or apologies, because exactly the right person who needed to read that post did read it, and thought that maybe he would have a stab at being that ideal person...

...and fifteen months into the relationship, I still have absolutely no regrets. I had my doubts, plenty of them. I questioned the lack of 'sparks' and why the relationship felt so platonic. But those 'spark-less' months revealed to me the enormous amounts of effort that both of us were willing to put into making the relationship work simply because of the amount of respect we had for each other as individuals. It surprised me, the number of times either one of us could have easily walked away, but we didn't. Because it's not every day you find someone who stands for the same values as you do.

And those months also taught me that while sometimes, 'sparks' fly at first acquaintance, other times, the flames take time to simmer beneath the surface before flickering to life. And I've learnt that I've found someone who can handle me at my worst, craziest moments, who can deal with the most ridiculous things I say, who accepts my need for long periods of alone time, my innate dislike for PDA, my inability to keep time accurately, how anal I am about grammar and using words that say what they mean, the experiences and memories I've had from all my previous relationships, and the occasional crushes I have on other people from time to time.

It's nice to have commitment in a relationship - the knowing there's someone you can always count on to have meals with if everyone else is busy, the usual 'Good morning' text, the predictable familiarity of someone you've become completely comfortable with. But it's also nice to have the spontaneity and freshness of constantly discovering new things about the other person in every new season life brings - and revealing new parts of who I am as I grow and change. It's nice to be able to be completely transparent and not be judged - to be able to say "There's this thing I really don't like when you do", or "I think you're really amazing but there's this guy I think is really amazing too. Not that I would ever want anyone else but sometimes you get mini crushes on people and find a new person really fascinating, you know what I mean?", or "This book absolutely changed my life. Would you want to read it too?" In all of the previous scenarios, it's been all too familiar to have the other person completely misunderstand, get angry, feel threatened or insecure, or worse, simply not even care.

But it takes someone special to see all those conversations as keys to discovering who I really am, stripped of all pretense and fronts, completely honest and vulnerable. And that's what being in a relationship is really about in the first place, isn't it? Knowing your heart is held in safe hands and being able to let down your guard. And knowing that you are able to do the same for the other person as well.

Looking back now, I'm glad I never settled. It's been a winding, curvy, bumpy road with plenty of detours and u-turns made along the way, but in the end, I've gotten everything I've ever wanted - and more. Despite what others have said and despite my own doubts, I've learnt that I've got a big-hearted, loving and generous Father up there who knows all my heart's desires and who gives abundantly above all I could ask. I am truly grateful.

Rebirth

"Awareness born of love is the only force that can bring healing and renewal. Out of our love for another person, we become more willing to let our old identities wither and fall away, and enter a dark night of the soul, so that we may stand naked once more in the presence of the great mystery that lies at the core of our being. This is how love ripens us -- by warming us from within, inspiring us to break out of our shell, and lighting our way through the dark passage to new birth.”
― John Welwood