Flustered and frustrated.

I feel like the weight of the world is foggy. It's foggy everywhere. Flustered and frustrated. 

Literally feeling I'm at the edge of a cliff. Just waiting for an emotion to come, take a grasp of me, and tell me what it is so it can tell me where I need to go. Swim in the colourful emotions that smell of raspberry and bubblegum, streaking in rainbow stripes. 

My off days have been applied and cancelled for the past three weeks. Not that I wasn't allowed to leave office. More to I haven't been allowed to plan anything personal to take the leave for. We have been outnumbered by all other things which leaves us with lesser to spend on physical surrounding and actual time.

Here I am listening to the instrumental music on Spotify called The Last Hour of Loneliness by Elba (that I find the title is ironic). The commotion of sudden shifting of organisation that means shifting of people from different floors, just to make the beginning of the year ready for new year's work. I was also thrown into the commotion for no direct reason and then followed up about that, and about unrelated things with long rantings that just snapped a vein in my head just to hold my breath in.

I am of little patience right now. 

Gently reminded of the cousin I love. She came yesterday. And I now wonder if I too have bipolar. This sense of soft ground in cloudy gray with lights on the clouds by it's gray from where I sit. But mine has blotches of yellow, pink, purple blue lights that come through. Perhaps I'm not there where she is. It is just that I understand her.

I need cigarettes. 

Low

I wonder if I will ever sync all the blogs I have to be one. It would be very daunting I think. Not think, I feel. For me. Because the emotional dimension will be in so many angles and seeing or feeling the structures and emotions of going forwards and backwards all at the same time... Further, for a total of many many years. So so so daunting.

Motivation is low. My mind is working slow pacing jog or more like walking. This morning stroll in park somewhere cold and dewy at this time of the morning. Just some where foreign. Being the one there instead of being the one constantly planning for someone else.

I do want to ignore some memories. I also realize that my way of thinking and analyzing now is more sporadic than ever and I don't care. I don't appreciate myself being stressed out for whatever reason just because I don't need to be and I don't deserve to stress over things. I'm still improving in that area.

There was a time I knew someone who is constantly happy and pleasant. Everyone wanted to be friends with me, just so they could be her friend. It was sad. For me. I couldn't define what was going on but it made me feel worthless that built resentment. Took me years to realize that I'm not ever meant to have many friends. I only saw it as a non-friend-able person. Unworthy. And I keep going back there to punish myself on being a quality friend and how to make people like you. In the end, I become self-centred because I had no one else to discuss about myself. So I'd out-speak about me with whoever I meet, making me even more self-centred. Because nobody cared about how I feel.

Wow. Writing this is painful.

Give me a papercup of hot coffee in my gloved hands. Let me breathe in the autumn air. Grace me a bench for me to sit in the the middle of park to watch the leaves go brown. I love my autumn coloured knee length leather boots. I look good in all olive and gracefulness of the browning leaves. I embrace the coming of September. Just close my eyes and feel the warmth of his face against mine. Feel the warmth of his hug on mine.

This feels secure. And happy. I like this. I like this very much.

Perspective of Home

This morning Phillip Phillips' song came on. I've always loved that song. It triggers the membrane for some awesome journey in life I had somehow. Telling wounded souls that they'll be fine and just bear with me so we can heal together. But then somewhere in the song, I felt broken.

Home, the title of this song, came into air in the late 2012 and early 2013. I was so hopeful to keep him in me. Him. The X. Then. Funny how after so many years all these memories still come to haunt me and make me feel broken like a wave hitting the rocks, and the rock that holds all the other rocks in the sea, breaks in the bottom. Yes, that is exactly how it feels. Broken beneath the sea. A place where no one can see or feel. 

I pushed myself to sing the song again, line by line. The crack ran deeper. I decide to stop the cracking and changed my own perspective. The song was about telling MYSELF to bring MYSELF home - which I did, and therefore blessed and thankful for.

Funny ain't it how smell, sight and sound can make or break your day? 

But then again, you too can make the change by turning into a different degree of your perspective. Only sometimes, you need time to gage and find ways how to bring yourself out of the waters. 

Funny too how in current times, nothing else is affected. It's just my brain calling. Emotional growth. Emotional range and understanding of how far I've expanded, experienced, learned, grown and healed.

Like how it is said, God will not test you for something you cannot carry.

It was never a lie.

The Silent Hurt

I have been running with memories of late.  Memories that run like slow lava across the cracks of my heart.  Maybe it pours to heal, to show the distance of how far I am now than I was before.

These memories float in as they please.

How when they dress differently can cause deep hurt inside of you.  They no longer appear to how you know them.  Even the glimmer in their eyes don't shine the same.  The cockiness or aura defies all the years of courting and marriage that you have known them.  And this person standing before you to pick up the kids you both made, is completely a whole other person that deletes all the things you know him by heart.

Lost were the days when he lets you stare at his profile and drink in the sensation of his skin.  The one who used to hate it when you try to show affection but you know that he needs.  The person of principle and knew means around only what we could only afford.  

Then looking down at my feet.  I silently felt poor in the material things that I own, while he stood there feeling full of himself.  

But what hurt more was this bitterness of how quickly you lost the person you knew for over 10 years.  No longer appear the same.  No longer smell the same.  No longer feel the same.  No longer have the same core of a person you knew by heart.

That was one of the moments that hurt. 

The silent hurt.

But I lived through it.  And rejoiced with the man who changed.  

Much Needed Sanity

I realized that I was sinking my own ship into the shallow waters.  I tend to do that.  Getting overboard over nothing just because it feels vacant inside although it is not.  Senselessly telling myself that I am bored, with nothingness; when it is truly that I need to have some emotional turmoil to get me through the day to be able to feel something.  That was what I was accustomed to.  Being numb.

There are a few friends going through that - being numb.  But they are whiners.  They seem stuck.  But they too seem like they are not progressing.  However, I have decided to have no concern in them as they keep whining and do nothing about what bothers them.  It is their life to deal with.  It is not mine.  Until they decide about dealing with it, then it is another stage for them.

Weather has been bad here.  The haze is everywhere.  Schools closed with exams due in two weeks and unable to cover a few syllabus towards exam date.  It has been a month.  And kids with respiratory problems are advised to be home even when the schools are open.  I send them alternately.  Like two days, then break.  They need school.  But they also need to keep healthy.  Then again, the schools closing and opening are about that duration too.  No difference whatsoever then.

Work has been emotional.  I have been angry most of the time.  Yes, angry.  Angered by the complacency, no cooperation, no compassion, no sincerity, no transparency, no information, no information and no information.  

Today, I have decided to keep myself sane.  I do have a few datelines today.  Therefore I shall go now and make myself a cup of coffee, though still undecided to go black or play on with the 3-in-1 sachet.  Get something sweet, something savoury.  Oh I really wish I could get a cinnamon bun right now.  Or pastry oozing with cheese.  Or that ultimate lifesaving feeling for me - mixed salad rounded by feta cheese.  

My ultimate hotel getaway:  When the breakfast buffet serves a bunch of cheese, wholesome salad range, Italian dressing, olive oil, sausages, cold cuts and 'everything on it' omelet.  

I shall go away with my dirty cup now to the pantry, letting that salad drowned in feta cheese feeling remain in my throat.

Credit: Found on Google following this URL

Then probably continue with burying my feet beneath the sands as the waves brakes.  

Much need sanity.

Thank you.

Me Myself and I

I somehow am feeling quite pissed today.  Been feeling this light-weighted feel (or what at least I try to make it be) of human connection that I slay from time to time, with some of the longest people I have known.  Am I the bi(a)tch or are they?  

Fine.  They have always been they way they are.  But just because they are, that doesn't mean I haven't been.  And goodness me, I am pissed because they feel that I deserve them so.  Well okay. Maybe it is God's way of telling me that I have gone overboard of late. But I have also been struggling with how to revive the friendship that is slowly dying.  And letting go of friendships that shouldn't be as you see photos of them with their new circle of friends circulating in the Internet.

I am humbled in this case.  But the emotions around me has been going crazy loopy all over from family to family.  Seriously loopy just keeping myself sane for all questions that I have been holding back from my own family.  And withholding my tongue (fingers, actually) from serial typing over people who are so desperate for attention that they keep interrupting other people's conversation with unrelated posters.  But I did let one out.  And all have since acted cowardice whenever I say something in the chat group.

Let alone be the day at work where all those who annoy me annoys me.  

Grr.

Reality Bites in the Arse

Truth be told I woke up weaving in and out of sleep literally being awake and sleeping 20-30 minutes each time, throughout this morning.  So I developed a headache.  Or perhaps I was weaving sleep because I had headache.  

So I tried to take my time getting ready for work.  I bathed and cleaned every nook and cranny of by body.  Then looking at self, I actually attempted to come to work without bra on today.  Well, I put the bra-singlet thing on and felt comfortable in it.  But there was a "WTF?!" moment and so I came to the office in a proper bra on.

I am still having headaches through the morning.  It has been quite a stressful day that I have not been getting much done where instead I would weave through the internet for some self-distraction, which really does me a lot of good, actually.  Err.  At least that is what I think.  

And so.  Reality bites in the arse.  Sometimes, a certain scent, or feeling or moment would pull me back to where I was a few years ago.  This morning I drifted into the memory when he made arrangements for household packing for us to move back into my parents' - when he knew he had no intention of moving back with me and the kids.  And that piece of memory waved of as I said, "OK" and moved myself upstairs to get ready.  

I am at a better place now.

Although the arse is hurting again when I see faces of people who reminds me of the stuffs I need to get going today.  

Too many loads today.  And I am slowly putting my head back into my shell as I resist, tongue-biting myself, finger-restraining myself, from sincerely lashing back to these groups who are self-absorbed. I never get why some people just like stealing someone else's thunder and does it so without compassion.  So very self-absorbed.

Haih.

Another self-distraction, I found a mushroom soup recipe, Jamie Oliver style.  Reminds me when I my eldest was about 2 years old.  We went into the bookshop and I showed him Jamie's cooking book and went, "Look at Uncle Jamie!" and everyone around us went curious and kept looking back at us. It was unintentional for it to sound that way.  But I just referred to everyone one else as uncles and aunts with him.

Anyhoo...  Here is the link to MUSHROOM SOUP by Jamie Oliver.

Looks good ain't it?

Stuck Sensation

I have no idea where I am at.  In the midst of documents to write, I begin to wonder if I am emotionally stable, or mentally stable, seeing that out of my head, I have family relatives who has bipolar.  Perhaps I was one but eventually found a grip to hold onto.

Feeling like where I was before.  Perhaps it is my greatest ability to clean up people's mess.  Or, make a mess and clean myself after it.  Some days I go home and I won't be able to tell what I have done all day.  Now, that sucks.  But when you think it over, it is more of trying but being stuck in process that it in a chain of other people in it.  Or, you not being able to communicate to bring it further in the day.  Or, you keep calling people to get it going and still end up stuck there with 3, 4 things to finish but damn, you are completely in a jam.

Right now in the zone of delivering a message of memorandum which has been changed 3 times over since yesterday.  Getting all documents ready to support it is even more taxing.  To close cases that has not been closed making me feel like some what insurance agent in the finance end.  What is this? Am I just droning my days in and out?

Just how I completely feel like being absent for a mindful rest when my child gets into the hospital, with the other two siblings falling sick around the same time.  How restful is that when you are on your own without other half?  Not to say that I am completely grateful for the support of family so close, but, you know what I mean.

If I could just doze off right now, I would probably wake up 5 hours later.  

I just need a beautiful beach with clear water.  Wind in my hair.  Good hawker food.  Alone time in the balcony corners of the room.  And some time banging by the window.  I do need that.  The banging.  But I am feeling unattractive with this bloat of body.  And hating my hair.  As well as all the body hair that do not need to exist.  

Photo Found by Google Search

Rest is peaceful when resting is with him.  

A Silent Spectator

Life has been buzzing by as I sit there and stare on my outlook with eyes glazed.  Sometimes it feels that way.  Perhaps that stone feeling stays there 50 percent of the time.  Or I just feel that way inside as no smile freezes on my face.  

I have been feeling suspended in the air for the past week. Just suspended there.  And nothing else except darkness and what I saw were shades of darkness that looms in the eyesight.  How does it get to there?  I could not even phantom how my skeptical look sees and times out that way.  My father has always told me that I cannot work with other people as my idealism is such that it may not give frame for other people to work on.  Perhaps.  As in my eyes, there were so many chances given that people in the end, takes her for granted before she cracks.

How do I stop feeling like a life's spectator?  I zone in and out automatically. At least I do not do it most of the time as last.  Perhaps the frequency has reduced. And I check into reality more often. But somehow I find myself flailing when he is not by my side.  Like one side rear view mirror is missing so losing hold perspective sometimes happen.

This is the outlook for me today.

I do not need a physical hug from him.  But him telling me that he misses me, would make me feel balanced somehow.  Because I need a little balance today.

The Fall from the Burj

There was last year's best songs music award live telecast last night. We watched. I knew I tried getting tickets to attend at the venue. But we did not manage to get any this year. I did not need any the year before.  

I could still remember clearly the last that we attended. Our second child had just been discharged from the hospital after staying there for one week. Caught between motherhood feeling guilty leaving the sick behind and doing the right thing for me, I took on the latter and got myself ready for the show.  Neither of us spoke as we both got ready. He did not care to look at me. And I just went along to what I think was fine enough for him.  

The strain on the marriage begun to show. He was only present on the first night at the hospital and left the following night for the work, hours away from home. He did not try to come home to visit his son, neither did he try to answer my calls when the child needed him most. When I needed him too. He only came back when we were all safely at home, in time for the show.

So I queued for entry as he went to park the car. His brother and his wife came waddling behind me, joining the show, and joined me in line. And then I found him further behind. Much further behind, out of line, by the borders of the sidewalk with a phone on his cheek smiling and laughing as he spoke. Something that I had not seen him do for me of late, at the time. I did not have anything to say to him. I was hurt and disappointed. Beyond words. When he joined us, he was vacant. My presence bothered him. It was not me who was spacing out. And so I told myself that I was going to let me go and enjoy this show.

I envied the relationship that his brothers had with their wives. They were so free. One could shout all her might openly and not get schooled by anyone in the family, as he. One would snuggle and tease hers as he did with she where everyone else would join in the laughter. One was so quick to do things that you could see her husband just there to pick up what she missed out. They all did not have emotional barrier with their spouses. Something what he and I did not have.

At that point of the live show telecast where we were a couple of years ago, we stood there like mannequins. This was not the man I knew by heart. Not the one who would stare at me as I lay sleeping. Not the one who would make me laugh and laugh with me. Not the one who would try to meddle with what I was doing just to make it perfect while being a nuisance. I knew he has lost appreciation for me.  

I got up and danced as the show went on. But I was partially paralyzed. It was as if my actions were embarrassing him. I did not care. I knew I needed this. And this went on until the show ended at midnight. It felt like being on top of the Burj and waiting to fall knowing the gap of fall it would take to the ground. The hollowness was hurtful. It felt like the enjoyment had gone to waste.

My laid my head against his shoulder as we watched the show last night. He tried to recollect when was the last we went for the music award. I said, "Two years ago.  But let us not talk about it. It was hurtful. You face showed disgust at the sight of me." He managed a gaggle acknowledging it before falling silent. Like a black comedy that is worth a gaggle, I snorted too. But his body remained relax, as did I. And we continued watching the show together until it ended.

Last night I fell from the Burj to let go of a memory, knowing that he would embrace me somewhere in between. And I would be ready there prepared with a parachute myself too.  

Recollecting Memories

I have been flooded by memories from the past. They come in nonchalantly and without warning leaving gaps of sweetness, hurt and sorrow all at the same time. Ear plugs were stuck into my head most of hours of the days in office with me singing quietly just to shut me out from the world today. Perhaps today was meant for self-reflection.

Tones reminds me of those times he worked months away from home. The utter sorrow and loneliness of his pierced through my ear and tears just flow drop after drop. How alone and away he was from where he used to be and to where he belonged.  Other sounds brought me back to rekindling and forgiving. And I began to remember conversations that were quirky enough to make me laugh.

The night after he actually asked my hand in marriage for the second time, I only courtesy called family with whom I had direct contact with throughout the divorce. For one, my mother's older sister who seems to find me amusing. I feel a sense of freedom to be amusing whenever I speak to her at this day and age as I grow older. 

I told her, if God deems so that it would take place, I would want to celebrate it. Putting aside what my mother and husband-to-be felt that the solemnization was more important worrying about what I wanted on the day before. "But of course I want to have my own bouquet of flowers and henna on my fingers. It does not matter the fact that there are family whom object to it openly, but it would be my wedding day and therefore I will make it my wedding day," I told her as she listened intently.

You see, the objection was strong enough that I was informed that I was no longer welcome into his family. And the quietness of this was to care sensitivity of them. But after all that has happened, I still deserve to celebrate on something that is happy for me.

So I told her, "And so, I will get the bouquet tomorrow and get my nail henna done the same. At this point of life I want to be in happy as I am in happy." She applauded me.

On Saturday morning, I found a beautiful head scarf by chance at my little single budget with a friend whom I met on a whim to do laundry with. Oh I heart her dearly. We had coffee and spoke briefly about our lives before we parted. Then on Sunday night while everyone was busy with their own things, I drove myself to some outskirt florist for a simple hand bouquet that I prayed not to be too much for the next day. And as everyone else lay sleeping, I painted my fingers red.

Dressed myself and brought my bouquet to the registrar's office. And I felt beautiful the entire time. When I announced that we were now husband and wife, the first thing that my aunt asked was to share a picture of my henna and hand bouquet. Again, she applauded.

Googled

The mystery of this is that I did what I wanted to have and did not let other people's opinion hinder my spirit to celebrate that was rightful for me.

I think I did good. And I am glad I did what I did. I call it owning my own sense of ownership.