Vast

I stepped onto the ice. Before me was the river that always looked so vast and formidable. But today, it was frozen and still.

I trudged through the slush. Perhaps it's not the wisest thing to do to stand on the river when the temperature has been hovering above zero Celsius for the past two days. But maybe I'm foolhardy and somehow not afraid. Besides, there were people ice fishing even further out than where I was standing. In the distance, I could hear the rumbling of the rapids, and  a thin veil of mist forming on the horizon. Winter makes everything so desolate, so cold, feel so lonely, but there is a certain beauty to be found in all these extremes.

To think, just a few months ago, the day after I returned from a "mission" lasting almost eight months, I sat on this very river bank and sobbed by myself between the bushes. A few months on, so many more tears have been shed, so much distance traveled, so many words, some unkind, spoken... I could not but wonder, as I stood on the surface of the river stared into the distance, whether I am feeling better or worse than before, and how much longer it will be till I can really smile again. "Any day now, any day now..." I must keep reminding myself, just as I reminded myself all those days and nights I spent by mum's side and gritted my teeth to bravely face it all.

A gust of wind blew and disturbed the tranquility and my thoughts. I trudged back to the bank, slipped and fell into the soft cushion of slush and snow.




(I often played this piece of music at home and at the hospital, especially before bedtime. Somehow, the music can send mum to sleep, and in a way, take away her pains...)

Mother and son

I watched as the boy zipped up his mother's winter coat, watched as he walked slowly behind her and carried her two big bags down the winding stair case. I watched, with a sense of reminiscing and envy, the beautiful, beautiful bond between a mother and child. She grabbed him by the hand, and slowly, slowly they made their way down the snow-lined pavement...

I could not take my eyes off of them. How inspiring, how beautiful and genuine the love between them. Their chatter and laughter faded as they disappeared into the distance...

Come back to me

The Letter

I must seem a distant memory
Which is probably a good thing
And it will have been a long, long time
And I will have missed you growing,
And I'll have missed you crying
And I'll have missed you laugh.
Missed your stomping and your shouting,
I'll have missed telling you off,
But please Billy,
Know that I was always there.
I was with you through everything.
And please, Billy...

But please, Billy
know that I will always be
Proud to have known you
Proud that you were mine
Proud in everything
And you must promise me this, Billy

In everything you do
Always be yourself, Billy
And you always will be true...
Love you forever
Love you forever
Mam

I will try, mama... 
I will try to be myself, and to be true.

I will try so hard.

Leaving

I looked up and saw him rub his eyes, his reddened and moist eyes. Momentarily, he buried his face with his hands. The  metro pulled onto the platform, a gush of wind nearly swept me off of my feet. Dizzy, feeling nauseous and the saltiness of recently dried tears on my cheeks, I watched him stand there overlooking the crowd and tracks below. Perhaps from high up there, one gets a better perspective of people and circumstances.

I hoped he would see me, see me gently wave and smile at him. My hope was realised when he lifted his head and looked my way, waving too. I waved goodbye, quietly wished his pain, tears and hurt can be washed away, quietly wished that he could forget me so that he will no longer hurt, no longer cry. All anyone ever wants is to be loved, to be wish someone who brings happiness and lightness into our lives.

Quickly I disappeared into the metro, so I do not have to cry...

Billy Elliot the Musical

I loved the movie Billy Elliot, and have watched it twice before. And tonight, I went to the musical adaptation of the movie.

A special little boy with a talent for dancing set against the backdrop of the mine strikes of 1980s Britain. While the adults argued and struggled to get by, while the Margret Thatcher sent in the police and strikers were pitted against "scabs", a boy just wants to dance! Dance to get his emotions and frustrations out, dance because he feels like dancing, dance because he feels free and hears music even when no music is playing.

But dancing for a boy is reason for ridicule. "Poof", "fruit", they called him because he wanted to dance the ballet. His dad and brother were dead set against it, but soon they realise that though their livelihoods and dreams are over, they cannot stand in the way of a boy with dreams and hopes. And how much the boy has gone through, having already lost his mother at the young age of 11.

It's a beautiful story about hope and hard work, striving and gain. It's also partly about loss and letting go. There is a scene in which  a letter from his late mother is read out (see other post). I could not keep from sobbing. The words reached deep inside me and wrenched my heart and caused a flood of tears:

And it will have been a long, long time
And I will have missed you growing,
And I'll have missed you crying
And I'll have missed you laugh.
Missed your stomping and your shouting,
I'll have missed telling you off,
But please Billy,
Know that I was always there.
I was with you through everything.

I enjoyed the musical, I really did. It was beautiful production, perhaps the most animated and well choreographed musical I've seen to date. It was  comical and extremely, extremely moving. And amazing what this scrawny little kid could do with his voice and feet on stage. But for me, personally, and a reason why I dreaded going to see the performance in a way, the most touching was that moment when the words and love of a late mother were transported into the present. Love, beautiful love, never dies...

Sick

100113.1921

I threw up again. Terribly. Everything inside emptied out. Last time it was a month or so ago, in India, but that was due to something I ate, I imagine. This time... I don't know why.

Is it my body trying to tell me something? Am I ill? Is something wrong with my digestive system? Or is it all mental? Caused by stress, anxiety,and such fears of the world and all its people? I feel such fear, fear of waking up, fear of falling asleep... Just beset by fears and paining from the inability to find some kind of security and certainty.

I threw up just as I was heading out the door. As bizarre as it may seem, to meet up with my ex. He bought tickets to a musical he wanted to watch with me. We spoke for over an hour on the phone earlier, I spoke most of the time, voicing my opinions and frustrations about the way we are and how we got to this. It was the same conversation about our relationship and how we've seemingly grown so sour and tired of one another, the same conversation which never has an end, which doesn't resolve anything.

He said very little, and just said there are three choices. Be stuck in this ugly cycle of misunderstanding and hurting, cut off all ties, or try to start afresh, "get to know one another". I'm not sure what the last sentence even means, for do we not know one another already? Have we not known one another for over four years? I don't understand, but
perhaps against my better (or worse) judgment, I agreed to go to the show. One chance at salvaging something that was once so strong and so beautiful and carefree. Perhaps I am still imagining and dreaming of the impossible.

Why did I throw up? I still feel the uneasiness inside. I feel horrible, and to be honest am not in the mood to sit through a show. But I make myself stand up and clean myself up, and I go anyway.

Persevere

Another night disturbed by dreams and images of my ex and my parents. Somehow, and especially these days,  the most important people in my life who are no longer around, appear in my dreams and waking moments a lot. I often wonder why my mind punishes me so, why I'm causing my own suffering, when other people seem to have an easier time to move on, to put things on the side, or to even just forget.

It was another struggle to drag myself out of bed and to work. A colleague saw me this morning and was very concerned. For almost an hour we chatted and she tried to console me and remind me again that what I've gone through over the past years is not been easy for anyone.

Her voice was so calming, so motherly. "You seem to forget it's only been a few months..." A couple of times I had to blink hard and wipe the corners of my eyes. My colleague said she cannot imagine going through what I went through, especially at my age. Her words hit me as she pointed out how lonely and empty I must feel. And for some reason, ever since the long trip to India/Nepal that was supposed to bring me some closure and perspective (at least I thought so when the trip concluded...) the void has been growing ever emptier and ever deeper.

Later, in my boss' office, my boss sat me down and asked me how things have been with me. Even he could see through me and see how disturbed I have been. He encouraged me again, and like a father-figure told me to hang on there and be strong. Father figure... that is what I miss.

Though my boss is much older, he's not lost a parent yet. He admitted to  that seeing me venture off to India all on my own, partly on my mother's behalf, inspires him. Again, he explained his reason to keep me by his side, because he sees something in me, and "You deserve it!"

What is it that people see? Perhaps I am just blind and too weighed down by pain and the past.

I must somehow try to persevere, try to hold myself together and not break apart so easily...

Middlewei

 Long project to retrace my footsteps through the "Middle Land" with words and pictures before they are lost...


http://middlewei.blogspot.ca/

Coping

Being down, I went to the movies. Just like that, on the spur of the moment, thought it would cheer me up a little. Little was I prepared for moments of crying.

As a side character, and sort of as a comic relief, we are introduced to a young guy with a rare form of cancer. He knows he's dying, because as he put it all the relatives are visiting. His impending death allows him to see the world with such wonder and amazement, to enjoy every breath. He meets one of the main characters in the movie, who happens to be at the hospital after a serious overdose. She is a heroine addict and alcoholic. In several scenes, you see the girl, a very pretty young girl, shoot and sniff cocaine, and drink herself out of consciousness. She wants to stop, but cannot. An addiction is too hard to kick. But the alternative of not drinking or abusing substances feel much worse.

Around her apartment of pictures of her and mother, in one her mother, whose cheeks looked so thin and sunken, is wearing a woolen hat, one that covered her head completely. From that one picture I understood why the girl hurts, why she drinks and shoots. Why she has even had to prostitute herself so she can drown in the painlessness.

It's cancer, cancer took her mother away. Later in the movie she explains how she spent so much time with her mother, trying to taking care of her, trying to pray for a miracle, giving herself completely to her mother. But her mother died anyways.

As she described her ordeal, shedding light as to why she is destroying her own body and her own life, I empathised with her... After the loss of a dear, dear one, there is such void, pain, loneliness and such deep, deep longing to belong, to be with someone... How can you get rid of all that pain? Can anyone really understand or feel the depth of the pain? It is no wonder (but no excuse either...) she sought escape in drugs and drink. How else can you drown out the emotions and rawness of it all without driving yourself crazy from despair and feeling like you cannot breathe, cannot do anything right? How else can you get rid of the feelings of being abandoned and so worthless in world?

I'm not saying I'll go seize the bottle now or start tracking down dealers on the streets. But I understand, and maybe in understanding I can cope and be a little stronger. Any little bit of self-help helps now.

Any little bit...

Call

One phone call, and I am left crying again, at the office of all places. Call from my ex.
Why am I so fragile, so tormented inside? Why am I shaking and unable to pick up my work again?

I was lost as to what to say to him... lost for words, lost in a mess of thoughts. I want to tell him I care about him so much, still do after all we have gone through, after all those arguments and tears... But those feelings are so misplaced, so wrong! Feelings I feel but do not seem to be shared as strongly. Deep down inside there are so many things I want him to understand, so many things I feel he must know. But what? How?

And what is the point, really? What is going to change, when for two years almost we have been dealing with the same issues of torn feelings and love triangle? What is going to change anything at all?
Powerful what a disappointed and broken heart can do to you. Unimaginable how one person can affect your life so much...

And who is suffering here most of all? Is it not me, stuck in this mindset dominated by loss and pain and disbelief? Is it not me who is so miserable, so utterly demotivated and lacking any joy and inspiration to do anything, while other people do not understand why I am this way? Is it not me who is crying and becoming ever stressed about work I cannot continue to do because I am so distraught and unfocused?

Call

One phone call, and I am left crying again, at the office of all places. Call from my ex.
Why am I so fragile, so tormented inside? Why am I shaking and unable to pick up my work again?

Dream

Attempts to leave country thwarted again and again.
Detained at airport, begging and crying to no avail/.

Mum and dad appeared, seemingly upset and distressed.
Tortured dreams and images , all too real.

Attempt to tidy up

There's a reason why I've not unpacked certain things I brought back from home almost five months ago. Several folders full of papers, documents and pictures. Friends who visit my place tell me how messy my place is, and wonder why there are so many things on the floor of my room.

Well, I can say it's because there's not much shelf space, which is true. And i can say I'm just messy by nature and a hoarder. But deep down, there is a deeper reason. These papers, documents and pictures are difficult to touch and more difficult to look at. I asked myself as I flipped through the papers why I keep all these things... Aren't these pieces of paper going to go yellow and fade one day? Will they not in ten, twenty years' time be as good as rubbish? To anyone else, they're just pieces of paper, but to me they are part of me.

The papers range from certificates issued by the hospital to official notification from the city hall that my mum has been "deregistered" from the national census, the documents are in folders dealing with the estate and the family home I'm on the verge of losing, and the pictures are those I put up on the wall of the hospice room to make the drab place feel more "homely" for mum's sake and everyone's sake.

I had to sort through some of them tonight, in search of something I need for work. I grabbed a folder, flipped through it, and then set it down. I know what I'm getting myself into, but I cannot stop until I find what I'm looking for. Then came a point when I needed to stop, for I could no longer see... My vision became blurred and watery. Then sitting on the floor, I began to sob again.

Amid bank statements and passport pictures of mum, I saw the envelop again. On it mum wrote my name, the name she has always used to call me, a cute version of my real name that makes me sound like I'm a little kid, who is full of wonder, full of joy and a bundle of cuteness. I guess for her, I've always been, and will always be, her little kid.

Inside was a note bearing her pen marks, and a bit of money. More symbolic than anything else, for the money cannot be used and must be kept forever. It's symbolically the very last thing she is leaving behind in this world and giving me to keep.

She told me one day, days before she left, where she left this very envelop bearing my name, and to only open it after she has......

I opened it only once, after she passed, and quickly put it away. I could put it away then, and move on to busy myself with others things that needed taking care of back in July. Opening it again today, and seeing her handwriting wrenched my heart.

I am still not ready, at least not ready by myself to deal with the things lying on the floor. Not ready... Not ready.

Reading

Goodness... I'm not really into fortune telling, but this one strikes a deep chord and seems to sum up my past and present very well...

"[...] since your 13th anniversary your personality has changed. Today you are a different person than before that evil incident. Anxiety has taken the upper hand in your soul, once filled with energy and joy. Your passionate nature, your immense sensitivity have been impounding on your relationships with the others. Some people know your weak points all too well, they often use them and sometimes abuse them.

[...] your behavior today is full of contrasts. You easily slip from calm to impulsive behavior, your sharp reactions are followed by moments of great sorrow. When this happens, it seriously affects you and you think no one can truly understand you.

Moreover, today I sense that you are even more vulnerable and isolated from everyone. I perceive a high level of stress and a lot of apathy. You are filled with doubts and you are convinced you will never find a way out.

[...] All these negative thoughts are your worst enemies, as they quietly maintain this unhealthy climate that is corroding your existence minute after minute and chokes one after another your every chance of success."

Of course, as much as the above reflects my emotional set of mind and the "evil incident[s]" before my 13th birthday, if you do a google search of these words, you will come across forums on fraud schemes online.

Move

When life throws you down and circumstances choke you and make you feel like you cannot take it any longer, perhaps it is time to move on.

Move on, pack up my bags and move to a new place. Start life fresh, away from the  people and places that carry so many memories that haunt me so and make me so afraid to face on a daily basis. I am so scared to even step out of the house, to meet people. Why, I cannot understand. What have I done to feel such shame?

Family visit to grandpa

I got an email just now from my relatives (dad's side of the family...) It was an invitation for me to join them on a family trip to Hainan Island... China.

For personal and political reasons, I've long resisted any reason to visit China. But this trip is different, and something my dad's side of the family has been talking about for over a decade. I did express my interest to go many times to pay respects to my late granpa, who passed away when I was only two. I don't remember much, but I recently saw the little red bike that he gave first to my brother and then to me. The bike has since been restored and repainted, and is now being used by my second cousin...

My grandpa served as a soldier of the Japanese Empire during the Second World War and was for many years stationed on Hainan Island. He was cannon fodder, literally the the foot soldiers who were sent  toward enemy lines, the enemy then being the Chinese... He came back shellshocked, lost his mind, and was very abusive, my aunt told me, and it took a long while till he became "normal" again. My dad was born a year or so after my grandpa returned from the war.

In November, my grandpa was unearthed from his tomb after 25 years, and was finally cremated and put to rest next to my grandma. It marked a milestone in my family, and I imagine it was the trigger to organise this family trip to visit a place where grandpa once fought and lived...

But I can't go. I had to decline, as much as it tempted me... I just cannot think of  a trip anymore, even if it's such an important one.

Dreams...

060113.0722

It was all so real, and again so torturous for my mind that I shook awake...

I saw mum, on the back of the motorcycle I was riding. I took her around town, Rodin carefully from place to place, riding very slowly so she wouldn't fall off. I did used to do that with her, often in the weekend, taking her for a spin and breath of fresh air. But in the dream, she sat in the back, grabbed onto my body tightly and said nothing. I felt tense, felt responsible for her safety, and all around us were so much traffic and so many people...

Then dad appeared in another dream. He was getting ready for bed, and I was lying down on the floor next to him. He asked me how I was doing, asked me why I looked so sad and upset... I ran out of the room, crying...

Suddenly, my ex's father appeared out of nowhere. (He is such a lovely man in real life, and both the father and mother seem to care and ask about me a lot...) He questioned me on what is going on between my ex and me. I felt so uncomfortable, but he kept on asking for an explanation, insisting I tell him so he can understand and try to do something... I felt so desperate and trapped, for who was I to tell his parents about complications between their son and me..?

What a way to start the day...