2019

Wanted to start a grateful journal. But today I witnessed something tragic and I’m not sure if there’s anything I can be grateful for today, maybe the fact that I’m still breathing. And that so many people aren’t. And that so many of those people’s loved ones are balling their eyes out.

I hope you find your peace, and I shall find mine in my sleep tonight.

hello is it just me or is it really too much to handle?
okay, it's just me.
or not.
or yes.
or no.
or yes.

can i hide somewhere and not show up for five years then show up again

I'm listening to The Little Prince's soundtrack whilst tidying up my room.
So clouded with these emotions and thoughts, I find a desperate need to clean up my thoughts as well.


Looked at them, then myself.
Didn't understand how did things end up this way. Didn't understand why did it have to be so hard.
Had been in a very idle-passive mode, and slowly shutting all doors.

Had a fight, knew things were going to turn south if I were to reacted like that.
I knew it, but I did it anyway. And then, the guilt accompanied with it.
Then looked at ourselves, wondered if it's really worth the fight.


It's difficult to lift up your spirits when really, you're so consumed by hatred.
I can tear up so easily recently. Just a snap of a finger.



Why do we inflict so much pain to the living, and only let go when they are dead?

thank you for your time

it's been a month since I started my first internship as an occupational therapist, and yes, at the age of 24.
it has been nothing but rewarding, with supervisors that are always ready to teach and children that are always look so cute haha wtf.

Lake District, 2015

the technical part:
basically i'm there to just support my supervisors in sessions, i will be briefed of what to expect from the children, their behaviours, what not to do in the sessions, and the planned-activities in the session.

As a multi-disciplinary team, i've be granted opportunities to join in sessions with different disciplines, music and speech therapies. Eye opener, indeed, on how creative therapists could get with different sessions, at the same time, keeping their focus on goals they wish to achieve together.

the not-so technical part:
Grownups, in my opinion, lack of confidence in children, thinking that the things that they can achieve is limited. So when we see them facing obstacles, be it as big as solving problems, or small matters like opening a bottle cap. We lack the patience when we see them work, we hate waiting, don't we. We just can't bear the sight of seeing a child struggling with the tasks on his hand and we're always so kind to intervene with their current activities, thinking that "i'm an adult, i am obliged to help the young and the weak". I'm proved wrong in the first few sessions as I have just stripped their chance to talk/ to play/ to learn. We're so proud, aren't we? Often we underestimate the child's abilities and in a way, restricting them from learning freely.

Also, flexibility, yes, that's the word. I've learned that it's okay if things don't go as planned, it's okay to listen and follow their wants or ideas. Because, why not? There's this sentence whereby my supervisors like to say, "what's your plan?", which I find really intriguing and ... refreshing? Well, of course! You must have a plan, haven't you? Or else why wouldn't you oblige to what we have just asked you to do, and yes, of course it's fine if the child has his own plans if he thinks that it's better than what we have suggested. Again, flexibility, and openness to ideas, because you're not always right, right? Yes, it takes time, but i promise you, it's worth all the wait.

Special kids. After having the exposure working with them, I find it almost rude to think that they are any different than we are. They are anything but different from the typical people. They too, have their ups and downs, personalities, tantrums, good and bad, also, compassionate, empathetic, quirky, cheeky. It takes a lot of patience to slow down to match their pace, but at most times, they are just like us. In a bubble, perhaps, a bubble that's so comforting and peaceful, they might not want to break it.

If i were to gain anything from these months, it's flexibility and keeping your options open. It has been nothing but fruitful and rewarding. I don't regret putting my job on a halt and landed on this non-paying job. Moving forward, I pray that I don't forget this wonderful time I experienced, retaining the tenacity developed from this period of time and most importantly, not forgetting how i felt with the therapists, children and families - be empathetic and flexible.




So, what's your plan?

Cinque Terre, 2015

Toilet Goddess

If you don't already know, I've lived with my grandmother my whole life. My mother was a working-mum and my grandmother has taken care of the four of us until we're old enough to tend for ourselves. This was something  she was really proud of, because she has taken such good care of us siblings. She has walked me to my kindergarten, gotten my cousin to get me warm clothing because she thought that the classroom was too cold for me, ensuring good hygiene by diligently scrubbing and shampooing my hair, gotten me breakfasts that were often crumbled into a ball because of the distance she traveled from the market, has taken me to hair cuts and waited for me to come home for lunch, forbid me from showering when I was sick and stuck her hands violently on my forehead to feel my temperature. She was reckless, loud, and as cheesy as it sounds, loving.


I grew up, and undeniably I relied on my grandmother much lesser that I did when I was younger. I grew up, and she grew older. Her health deteriorated, but she was still comparatively much stronger than other grandmamas and grandpapas. She could feed herself, walk, and go to the toilet by herself. Having underwent a mild stroke, she didn't smile as much as she did as compared to a few years ago, and gotten awfully loud and annoyingly forgetful. In recent years, she would dash into our rooms to bid her myriad of goodnights and would call our names just for the sake of calling our names. She was still her, though she slept a lot and hid behind a blank facade of empty expressions.


Nonetheless, she was still going strong, we even pushed the boundaries further to leave her at home at times to run some errands or to go for movies for a few hours at night. Until one day, mum found her lying on the kitchen floor as she fell down. We expected the worst, she was admitted to the hospital that night, and spent the rest of the following week in the hospital ward. However, she was still the old-tough-cookie I remembered she was, she braved through the surgery and started her slow progress of physiotherapy. She was discharged a few days after the surgery and came home though she has gotten dreadfully quiet these few weeks..


Coming home wasn't a bed of roses for me and mum, as she wasn't as independent as she was. She needed constant supervision, care and attention as she was still weak and recovering from the surgery. Mum was extremely patient with granny, applauded when she was able to walk one more step as compared from yesterday, encouraged her when she wasn't able to use her strength. For myself, I'm so thankful that I am not working for this period to be home with them. I spent a lot of time taking care of her during this short period of time, from cleaning her excrement, to feeding her to carrying her on to her bed. I swear to you, it wasn't easy at all, taking care of a semi-disabled grandma. I didn't mind, really, though it wasn't fun, I really didn't mind doing all that. She didn't spend long to be at home though..


If you don't already know, my grandmother, as much as I still can't digest this piece of information, passed away last Tuesday, on a fine evening, after dinner, painlessly, and, unexpectedly. The funeral passed by in a blink of an eye, through a curtain of tears. I've experienced deaths in life, but this has been my closest and dearest one. And to be honest, I still can't believe she's gone.


'Coco' is magical, beautiful and surreal. Longingly, it has planted this tiny hope in me that it could be real, and someday, somehow, we can be reunited again.


 

where have you been

Growing up means getting harder to trust.
it means knowing not to hold high expectations,
it means keeping things to yourself, knowing the truth might hurt.
it means holding dear on to the people you really like,
hoping that they feel the same way too.

I've missed my friend, a lot.

sometimes i just want to curl into a ball, and in a corner,
i want to just shrink, and shrink, and shrink, and shrink,
until i evaporate in the air,
until i can't see myself anymore.