Sunday, August 20, 2017

OUT WITH THE OLD
OUT WITH THE NEW

Get Free - Lana

finally
I'm crossing the threshold
from the ordinary world
to the reveal of my heart
undoubtedly
that will for certain
take the dead out of the sea
and the darkness from the arts

this is my commitment
my modern manifesto
I'm doin' it for all of us
who never got the chance
for... and for... (shut up, shut up)
and all my birds of paradise (shut up, shut up)
who never got to fly at night (shut up, shut up)
'cause they were caught up in the dance

sometimes it feels like I've got a war in my mind
I want to get off, but I keep ridin' the ride
I never really noticed that I had to decide
to play someone's game or live my own life
and now I do
I wanna move
out of the black (out of the black)
into the blue (into the blue)

finally
gone is the burden
of the Crowley way of bein'
that comes from energies combined
like my part was I
was not discernin'
and you, as we found out
were not in your right mind

there's no more chasin' rainbows
and hopin' for an end to them
their arches are illusions
solid at first glance
but then you try to touch them (touch, touch)
there's nothin' to hold on to (hold, hold)
the colors used to lure you in (shut up, shut up)
and put you in a trance (ah, ah, ah, yeah)

sometimes it feels like I've got a war in my mind
I want to get off, but I keep ridin' the ride
I never really noticed that I had to decide
to play someone's game or live my own life
and now I do
I wanna move
out of the black (out of the black)
into the blue (into the blue)

So my current favourite track is Get Free from Lana's record Lust for Life, and I like it so much I can't decide on a favourite lyric. I feel like, finally, at this age, I realise that life isn't about chasing rainbows, because rainbows will always end. There's no such thing as a happy ending, it's just happy rides and sad rides, and good times and bad times.

Also, the next person I watch live will definitely be Lana Del Rey.

It's like, remember the time someone messaged me privately on Facebook to tell my father to stop soliciting for sex from his fiancée (the person who messaged me)? Me? I was 25, like what could I have done about my father's habits, lol. I had to shake it off.

Remember the time Daniel Grayson courted me for about a month and I thought, hey, here's a nice, smart man, and then he literally fucked me over when I found out he was engaged back in the US, and all of a sudden I was the bad person for telling her about it? I had to shake it off.

Remember the time I got pregnant accidentally, and had a miscarriage? Instead of consoling me, my mother said she'd wanted to abort me and that she feels guilty that I was a child out of wedlock, and she made me feel shameful for having premarital sex? I had to shake it off.

So I had a post that was up for just a while, and it was quite raw and vulnerable, and I'm starting a new job in September, so I don't think it was the best idea to leave it up in its original form. Additionally, it was not punctuated properly and I'm very anal about such things so I edited it lololol. Here is a slightly polished version, with a little extension at the end. Perhaps a director's cut.

I had an anxiety attack last Saturday, brought on by thoughts of my miscarriage. I think about my miscarriage quite often, but I suppress my base emotions just to be able to go on with daily life. My defence mechanism is sexual innuendo, and humour layered with sarcasm and snark, layered with bitterness about little things.

The most unexpected of things can set me off. When I was watching Glow on Netflix and a miscarriage was made light of, I felt a sucker punch to my stomach. When I take cabs that smell like the one I took from the polyclinic to the hospital to check whether I was really miscarrying, I get a terrible headache that make me feel like the driver is bringing me to the end of the world.

Last week was one of those weeks where too many details collided, and my panic and dread spilled over into a full-blown attack. I had a nervous breakdown and cried all the way home from work, but when I got home, my parents and sisters were in the living room, so I had to go into my own room and cry to myself, because the miscarriage is a thing that does not get discussed with my mother, not if she can help it, which she can.

This Monday, I went to the doctor to get medication for my attacks and he prescribed me Lexotan. It is a type of bromazepam/benzodiazepine, but of course he also recommended that I eventually see a therapist (I have called AWARE and they will be scheduling a counselling session for me soon).

For three days, the meds worked and I felt like I was in bliss. I didn't have excessive thoughts or feelings, and if you know me, you'd know this is a major rarity in my life. I enjoyed being in a bubble, and not feeling anything.

Then, on Thursday I found out something that I would rather not have found out, and I came down from the meds by a bit. On Friday, despite having taken my medicine, I still felt anxiety and dread and pain in my heart (not sure if it's my literal heart but it was on the left of my chest so I assume it was), and I began crying.

I wondered then, whether it was natural to keep medicating myself from my thoughts and feelings, because essentially those are what make a human human, and secondly, it felt like all the medicine had been doing was bury my feelings and thoughts and kept them in my subconscious or something, because they were and are certainly not gone.

I could tell you that I was crying about my miscarriage, but honestly I was crying about Suff and what I'd learned yesterday. I don't ask to have a lot of feelings. I don't control it. I don't decide to feel something and then turn up or down the dial of intensity. I wish I could, I wish I had no feelings, which is why I enjoyed being medicated from them on those three days. It is fucking silly, I know, to have feelings about the littlest things and people think I'm dramatic but if it were up to me, I'd take this heart heavy with emotions and step on it, crush it, replace it with a non-feeling thing instead.

I'm going to come right out and say it, because it's the truth and I'm not a fan of denying the truth. I love Suffian Hakim. I do. It doesn't matter if you think I'm ridiculous or stupid or gross, because I'm probably all those things, and yet what I feel would still be true. We once had a conversation where he gave me sort of summaries of the things that he felt heaviest about, and immediately, I felt so much for him. They are things that weigh him down, the way there are things that weigh me down. His things are things that, if I'd gone through, I would rather not talk about, because they are just not things you want to think about or talk about, and this is coming from me, the person who talks about everything.

Every time Suff pushes me away or distances himself from me, I tell myself that we are all products of our lived experiences, and I don't even want to imagine the experiences he's lived through, that have made him so guarded against romantic love. I know he wasn't originally that way, people aren't inherently hard and cold until things happen to make them that way, and I understand. I understand that yeah, perhaps if I'd gone through the things that make him heavy, I would also not believe in anything permanent, nor trust in anyone, because nothing has ever lasted, and even someone I trust most could let me down, so why even try?

But I love him, and so by way of loving him, I wish and hope he was a little bit softer, and a little less callous with my feelings. I think of things like "I wish all the people who let him down hadn't done so, so that they wouldn't have made it so hard for him to let me in."

This was one of my favourite nights together:


I was crying and crying and crying on Friday, despite my medicine, that it hurt. I was fighting through the bubblewrap of Lexotan, so that I could and would feel the feelings that were bubbling and frothing over, so that I could and would cry it out.

After a while, I couldn't handle my own feelings anymore, because it was just too painful and overwhelming that I called Han. It is a testament to how serious things felt for me, because I don't usually have phone conversations with anyone, I don't like my voice over the phone, and much prefer texting.

We talked for 45 minutes, and in the last fifteen, my best friend started crying because of how heavy she felt for my sadness. This is my best friend Han, who is yet another onion, and about whom I've said things like "Han cried at such-and-such movie, which means it is really sad, because Han never cries!!!"

She said that she'd also hoped that Suff would have stuck around for me, in a more committed way, I think she could tell how much I liked him (just as everybody can). Over the phone, I kept telling her I wish I didn't have so many/such intense/any feelings, because all they do is hurt me, and I don't want it anymore, I don't want to have to negate my feelings with chemical substances, and I sobbed and sobbed, and Han had to tell me she wishes she had more feelings, and for me not to wish such things.

I cried, because it reminded me of when I was younger and had my longest-standing boyfriend (of about three years), who was the Christian Chinese guy, that we all knew would not last. I cried, because when I was younger, even when I was going through heartbreak, I felt young enough and strong enough to brave through it. I cried, because my mother, despite not really agreeing with my choice of boyfriend, was still one of my best friends back then, and she would listen to me proclaim about how "life is for taking chances and feeling all the feelings, and that I don't regret anything" and she would run her fingers down my hair and tuck me in to sleep and wipe my tears.

I cried because sometimes people say I choose the wrong guys, I choose someone from a different religion, or a transient character in my life I meet while travelling, or white men who don't have a long-term plan to stay in the country, etc etc, basically saying I gravitate towards the star-crossed lover dynamic. But this time, I didn't. I chose a Malay guy whom I'd admired for years, I chose a guy who liked the same things I did and communicated the same way I did. I chose a guy who was a safe bet for me, and still, I was hurt.

I cried because I wish he would trust me enough with his issues, as I trust him with mine. I cried because I love him.

When I got home, I couldn't take it anymore. It was overwhelming me, and it hurt too much, and I didn't want to pop another pill and ruin my routine.

My parents weren't religious when I was young, and I was not brought up to be religious even up to my teens, so I am really tak senonoh (not wholesome?) when it comes to praying. Whenever I pray, it is a real actual effort on my part to do so. I have to confirm with my sister every time, where the qiblat is (direction of Macca), and I always bring the book to the toilet to know how to take wudhu (ablution) etc, etc.

My sister was having her period (menstruating females are not allowed to pray, don't ask me why, the gender politics in religion have always been one of my main contentions with believing in such practices and rituals) so she couldn't lead or guide me. So my grandma came over to my room, in her happy manner, to guide me and lead by example. I prayed with her, as much as I knew how, and then when my grandma had taken off her telekong and left, I suppose I had my own conversation with God (yes no I know I am the biggest sycophant who turns to God only when I need and half the time I completely don't even believe) but I dunno. I think it helped. I don't know how and what it means, but perhaps baring your soul to the universe, helps to alleviate a little something something.

I am very tired and very sad and I hope that God eases all our paths.

Edit: I went quite berserk last night, and I realised, it could be because between today and ten days later, exactly a year ago, was when I conceived the poor little foetus. It was conceived at exactly 33.8768°N / 118.3931°W. They've moved house, so it doesn't matter what you do with those coordinates.

I am looking forward to seeing a therapist, I want to know how much more I can be enlightened about my situation. I know for sure, one of the biggest things that keeps holding me back is my guilt, and the fact that I actually wanted to keep the baby and raise him/her. Yeah, I do want a kid, but I don't necessarily want to give birth.

I feel like I really crashed and burned last night, but the good thing about crashing and burning is that I am a phoenix, like Fawkes, and it is finally time to rise from my ashes again. I will keep being reborn, no matter how many times I burn. One year is long enough. I'm okay with not being okay, so gimme what you got, life. Watch me shake it off.

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