It was meant to be a good one week break where I try out new stuffs and catch up with friends I haven't talked to for awhile.

Honestly, I feel depressed. Really. It's been ongoing for weeks now, but a complete week away from the routine left me vulnerable to the gravity of the void inside that I've been struggling with. I need help, but I don't know who I should turn to. I need people, I have people, but it feel like I'm using them as medication to curb the relapse the volatile darkness I'm trying to contain, and afterwards when I'm done, I mentally toss them aside like candy wrappers. I don't like doing that.

I guess I'm still hung up on the past, I never really healed. I'm not okay even though I tell myself that. I tend to rationalize the things that I’ve been through growing up, being left to fend for my own emotionally, losing a close friend, and then another, because of the mess I was. I justify the wrong, that it’s unintentional, it's my fault, or that it was meant to be, or that it’s life way of making me a stronger person; but the pain remains.
 
I learn to manage with an outer facade that keeps me functioning well. Whereas I overcome the pain by repressing it, as if a mind over matter thing, that I could will the pain away if I stopped thinking about it. Maybe that’s why I try hard and being good and noble, so that it keeps me far, far away from the repressed soul that I attempt to cut out of me.

My mind is exceptionally brilliant. It develops two extreme forms of coping mechanisms, one takes form as a hero complex to mission to protect everyone from hurts, the other desires to let loose in a perverse outcry of self-pity, manipulating people for its own gratification. Both act as individual personas pitting against each other, like the angel and demon, or a veteran cop apprehending a mastermind criminal, each side scheming and outmaneuvering each other, setting up fail-safes and blockages, fighting for control over my life.

Yet neither the wit of both personas truly take the pain away, as it festers into the noxious wound it is today. I feel an indescribable sense of torment each day ravaging through my mind. I become ever more isolated and self-centered.

Labels: heart, life, Me, tears

Went to a funeral of a distant relative last night. I was expecting to go there and just hang around, pay respects, but for the 1.5 hours I was there, I felt like I was a character in a drama, rediscovering a lost past. Like the novel "5 people you meet in heaven".

We picked a table at the corner, politely asking the two people if the seats were vacant. Sitting, I watched my mom exchange greetings with a man across the table. By the way they speak I could tell this wasn't their first encounter. The lady beside him smiled sweetly and nodded. Immediately after another elderly man who was pretty fit came over and greeted my mom, and then turned to me and asked in a loud voice in chinese, "Do you know who I am?"

I smile sheepishly with an embarrased reply, showing quite well I couldn't remember any of the faces in the crowd in my vaguely fragmented memories. I know they knew me though from the past. Everyone who said hi to us had the same exclamation of how big and tall and handsome I am now, gesturing with their palms in an up-down motion. Typical icebreakers I supposed.

As I slowly picked out bits and pieces from my muffled interpretation of dialect, a realization dawned upon me that these weren't just random folks that came to pay respects to a mutual lost one. They were uncles and aunties, not the common salutation but literally. And then there were granduncles and grandaunts, great-grandaunts and uncles, and a whole bunch of other cousin-related ranks I have no idea how to address. My paternal grandmother came from a family of 8, or 9 and each of her siblings had more than 3 kids. Her mother - my great-grandmother had a few siblings as well. Imagine that massive scale of family networks branching all over, it'd take an extra one or two drawing blocs to trace them out. I guess it felt like an astronomer locating the position of a new nebulae or witnessing the birth of a new supernova, and who wouldn't marvel at such an astounding revelation.

The conversation topics drifted from an electronic device than promoted healthy blood circulation, to NS lives, and finally to the history of my dad. Everything felt magical as I imagined what they mention of him as a kid, younger than I was now. Most of it was narrated by my grandaunt, who appeared well versed in english. The family abandoned by his unfaithful father, "Dom"s mother had to do shameful jobs to support the family. In time, his mother found another man, who however despised him. As a young child, he was physically abused by the male figures around him. Dom was left in a home, which at that era, was a gruesome place a kid could be in. His grandmother was appointed his guardian. During the school holidays, Dom would stay at his aunt's place, whom treated him fairly and lovingly, dividing her allowance to give her kids and Dom pocket money equally. Every time the holidays ended, Dom would be in tears begging to stay another day.

Shortly after a brief pause, a slightly fat middle aged chinese man joined the table. My grandaunt introduced him as Dom's cousin, and mentioned us as Dom's family. The man, my new-founded "uncle's" eyes lit up as though he was suddenly jolted by some memory. Holding on to his half cracked peanuts, he excitedly said out, "Dom?", and then gazed at me, "Ah, you know, last time when we were young we used to play together! We would go play by the kampung with him!"

I smiled in appreciation of his nostalgic expression. Silently, I phased out of the conversation, drawing a picture in my mind, my father as a young kid, running about with his cousins, his only family left. I wondered if he was smiling when he played with them. How would he be like? Was he obnoxious as kids were? Would he be closed up due to his troubles? I wonder what went through his mind, being a small kid facing abandonment of his family, tossed around between his relatives. Stuck in a grim squalor boy's home. Finding a home from a few relatives who had a heart for him. What was he like for him, as he grew up? As he thoughts developed with maturity, what did he see himself to be? How did he managed the agony is his heart? Was he lonely? Sad? Angry? Was he someone who felt hopeless and wished for his needs? What was his story like?

I wish I was older, or smarter then. Maybe I could have asked him myself. I would want to support him if I could, bearing such a painful past. Too bad I was only a young playful child then. Even at the last days, there was no sympathy in me, no sadness. I never realized my loss until I grew up years later. But I loved his presence. I remember being terrified as he caned me when I did wrong. When he allowed me to ride with him on his motorcycle when he picked me up from childcare that day. Looking forward to the saturdays where he would take me and my brother out for meals, when playing with us playstation games. For being that big figure I felt safe in, that I know I could run to. He may not have been the most ideal dad, but I know he loved us dearly. Papa, I wish I could have another chance to see you, there so much I want to tell you and do with you. I want to see you smile in pride of who I am today. I want to be able to eat with you, and share with you my secrets. To hug you when I'm sad and lonely. To wrestle with you in a battle of strength. To spend my future together with you. To be able to say to you "I love you" and hear you say back to me.

I havent cried over this in a long time. But I will be strong. I know everything has its purpose. I will live a good life, righteous in the eyes of God, loving in the hearts of men. I will make sure to do you, and God proud, and I will do my best in everything, till the day I am received in Your arms. Papa, I love you. And I know you loved me too. I know God loves me too and is watching over me in your place. So, I want to be that for others too, in the agape love God has for everyone, that there too might experience that joy and comfort in the belonging acceptance of Christ.

Labels: God, heart, love, Me, memories, tears

Curled up on the floor under the shower holding what's left in me, singing the words over and over again. I never felt so desperate and helpless yet struggling to keep my faith on Him who promises.




I not sure at all. I don't want to end up thinking it'll be well, and yet otherwise, knowing I could have done more. But desperation turns me back to You and I can only hope and hold strong to this promise. Please come to my rescue. I'm losing it. Please help me.





Countless "what if's" and scenarios kept playing in my mind. Don't want to ever lose you. Somehow in the midst of all these wavering emotions and unpredictable twists and turns, a part of me inside breaks and bleeds each time I think of you. Don't know what else to do in all these weaknesses. I desire in my heart so much to see you happy once again, to see you smile from within.

Guess I've lost it. Lost myself. Lost you. Lost him. Trying hard to hold everything together, for both of you. I'm trying hard to push myself to do more for the preciousness of these bonds I treasure. In my weakness I can only acknowledge the hurts and pains I've caused, sometimes watch helplessly as everything crumbles apart, so much so that an apology sounds so disgraceful coming from me. But at the end of everything, I love you. I really do.

Labels: frenz, God, tears, thoughts

It was meant to be a good one week break where I try out new stuffs and catch up with friends I haven't talked to for awhile.

Honestly, I feel depressed. Really. It's been ongoing for weeks now, but a complete week away from the routine left me vulnerable to the gravity of the void inside that I've been struggling with. I need help, but I don't know who I should turn to. I need people, I have people, but it feel like I'm using them as medication to curb the relapse the volatile darkness I'm trying to contain, and afterwards when I'm done, I mentally toss them aside like candy wrappers. I don't like doing that.

I guess I'm still hung up on the past, I never really healed. I'm not okay even though I tell myself that. I tend to rationalize the things that I’ve been through growing up, being left to fend for my own emotionally, losing a close friend, and then another, because of the mess I was. I justify the wrong, that it’s unintentional, it's my fault, or that it was meant to be, or that it’s life way of making me a stronger person; but the pain remains.
 
I learn to manage with an outer facade that keeps me functioning well. Whereas I overcome the pain by repressing it, as if a mind over matter thing, that I could will the pain away if I stopped thinking about it. Maybe that’s why I try hard and being good and noble, so that it keeps me far, far away from the repressed soul that I attempt to cut out of me.

My mind is exceptionally brilliant. It develops two extreme forms of coping mechanisms, one takes form as a hero complex to mission to protect everyone from hurts, the other desires to let loose in a perverse outcry of self-pity, manipulating people for its own gratification. Both act as individual personas pitting against each other, like the angel and demon, or a veteran cop apprehending a mastermind criminal, each side scheming and outmaneuvering each other, setting up fail-safes and blockages, fighting for control over my life.

Yet neither the wit of both personas truly take the pain away, as it festers into the noxious wound it is today. I feel an indescribable sense of torment each day ravaging through my mind. I become ever more isolated and self-centered.

Labels: heart, life, Me, tears

Went to a funeral of a distant relative last night. I was expecting to go there and just hang around, pay respects, but for the 1.5 hours I was there, I felt like I was a character in a drama, rediscovering a lost past. Like the novel "5 people you meet in heaven".

We picked a table at the corner, politely asking the two people if the seats were vacant. Sitting, I watched my mom exchange greetings with a man across the table. By the way they speak I could tell this wasn't their first encounter. The lady beside him smiled sweetly and nodded. Immediately after another elderly man who was pretty fit came over and greeted my mom, and then turned to me and asked in a loud voice in chinese, "Do you know who I am?"

I smile sheepishly with an embarrased reply, showing quite well I couldn't remember any of the faces in the crowd in my vaguely fragmented memories. I know they knew me though from the past. Everyone who said hi to us had the same exclamation of how big and tall and handsome I am now, gesturing with their palms in an up-down motion. Typical icebreakers I supposed.

As I slowly picked out bits and pieces from my muffled interpretation of dialect, a realization dawned upon me that these weren't just random folks that came to pay respects to a mutual lost one. They were uncles and aunties, not the common salutation but literally. And then there were granduncles and grandaunts, great-grandaunts and uncles, and a whole bunch of other cousin-related ranks I have no idea how to address. My paternal grandmother came from a family of 8, or 9 and each of her siblings had more than 3 kids. Her mother - my great-grandmother had a few siblings as well. Imagine that massive scale of family networks branching all over, it'd take an extra one or two drawing blocs to trace them out. I guess it felt like an astronomer locating the position of a new nebulae or witnessing the birth of a new supernova, and who wouldn't marvel at such an astounding revelation.

The conversation topics drifted from an electronic device than promoted healthy blood circulation, to NS lives, and finally to the history of my dad. Everything felt magical as I imagined what they mention of him as a kid, younger than I was now. Most of it was narrated by my grandaunt, who appeared well versed in english. The family abandoned by his unfaithful father, "Dom"s mother had to do shameful jobs to support the family. In time, his mother found another man, who however despised him. As a young child, he was physically abused by the male figures around him. Dom was left in a home, which at that era, was a gruesome place a kid could be in. His grandmother was appointed his guardian. During the school holidays, Dom would stay at his aunt's place, whom treated him fairly and lovingly, dividing her allowance to give her kids and Dom pocket money equally. Every time the holidays ended, Dom would be in tears begging to stay another day.

Shortly after a brief pause, a slightly fat middle aged chinese man joined the table. My grandaunt introduced him as Dom's cousin, and mentioned us as Dom's family. The man, my new-founded "uncle's" eyes lit up as though he was suddenly jolted by some memory. Holding on to his half cracked peanuts, he excitedly said out, "Dom?", and then gazed at me, "Ah, you know, last time when we were young we used to play together! We would go play by the kampung with him!"

I smiled in appreciation of his nostalgic expression. Silently, I phased out of the conversation, drawing a picture in my mind, my father as a young kid, running about with his cousins, his only family left. I wondered if he was smiling when he played with them. How would he be like? Was he obnoxious as kids were? Would he be closed up due to his troubles? I wonder what went through his mind, being a small kid facing abandonment of his family, tossed around between his relatives. Stuck in a grim squalor boy's home. Finding a home from a few relatives who had a heart for him. What was he like for him, as he grew up? As he thoughts developed with maturity, what did he see himself to be? How did he managed the agony is his heart? Was he lonely? Sad? Angry? Was he someone who felt hopeless and wished for his needs? What was his story like?

I wish I was older, or smarter then. Maybe I could have asked him myself. I would want to support him if I could, bearing such a painful past. Too bad I was only a young playful child then. Even at the last days, there was no sympathy in me, no sadness. I never realized my loss until I grew up years later. But I loved his presence. I remember being terrified as he caned me when I did wrong. When he allowed me to ride with him on his motorcycle when he picked me up from childcare that day. Looking forward to the saturdays where he would take me and my brother out for meals, when playing with us playstation games. For being that big figure I felt safe in, that I know I could run to. He may not have been the most ideal dad, but I know he loved us dearly. Papa, I wish I could have another chance to see you, there so much I want to tell you and do with you. I want to see you smile in pride of who I am today. I want to be able to eat with you, and share with you my secrets. To hug you when I'm sad and lonely. To wrestle with you in a battle of strength. To spend my future together with you. To be able to say to you "I love you" and hear you say back to me.

I havent cried over this in a long time. But I will be strong. I know everything has its purpose. I will live a good life, righteous in the eyes of God, loving in the hearts of men. I will make sure to do you, and God proud, and I will do my best in everything, till the day I am received in Your arms. Papa, I love you. And I know you loved me too. I know God loves me too and is watching over me in your place. So, I want to be that for others too, in the agape love God has for everyone, that there too might experience that joy and comfort in the belonging acceptance of Christ.

Labels: God, heart, love, Me, memories, tears

Curled up on the floor under the shower holding what's left in me, singing the words over and over again. I never felt so desperate and helpless yet struggling to keep my faith on Him who promises.




I not sure at all. I don't want to end up thinking it'll be well, and yet otherwise, knowing I could have done more. But desperation turns me back to You and I can only hope and hold strong to this promise. Please come to my rescue. I'm losing it. Please help me.





Countless "what if's" and scenarios kept playing in my mind. Don't want to ever lose you. Somehow in the midst of all these wavering emotions and unpredictable twists and turns, a part of me inside breaks and bleeds each time I think of you. Don't know what else to do in all these weaknesses. I desire in my heart so much to see you happy once again, to see you smile from within.

Guess I've lost it. Lost myself. Lost you. Lost him. Trying hard to hold everything together, for both of you. I'm trying hard to push myself to do more for the preciousness of these bonds I treasure. In my weakness I can only acknowledge the hurts and pains I've caused, sometimes watch helplessly as everything crumbles apart, so much so that an apology sounds so disgraceful coming from me. But at the end of everything, I love you. I really do.

Labels: frenz, God, tears, thoughts