Call to the bar

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The hall began to fill with family and friends of hundred or so lawyers-to-be. The atmosphere was joyous, and I sat next to a friend and my ex's parents, who had ventured all the way from Europe, braving the bitter cold, to be present at their son's call to the bar ceremony.

I searched the mezzanine below us for my ex, and found him. I smiled when I saw the back of his head, even though he did not see me. Smiled at the thought he finally made it, pulled through all those late nights of studying and long hard days at work as a law student... And all those around him, everyone shares a similar story, shares the ambition of one day being able to officially call themselves "solicitor" or "barrister". Getting up at 430 in the morning, having slept only four hours or so max, was worth this moment. Bringing a smile and making little surprises is what I seem to do well, and I managed to pull another off.

The ceremony slept began as the organ played a moving classical piece. My friend's mum teared. She said she felt very emotional, especially as it was the anniversary of her own mother's passing. I wanted to do something, perhaps put my hand on her shoulder, but felt perhaps it was a bit too much. But having recently lost someone dear, I felt I should have said or done more to show that "you're not alone". All I could offer her was my smile of sympathy, and I hope she saw in my eyes what I wanted say.

One by one, names were called out and one by one all went on stage. People from all backgrounds, of all ages. Most inspiring was a guy in a wheelchair, who from a distance looked like he had some kind of motorneurone disorder. Yet he did it, he studied hard, he went through ten grueling months of articling, and he deserved so much to go on that stage and claim his certificates. He deserved so much the loud and long rounds of applause from across the hall. If he could do it, why can't I? Why can't I...?

I sat there and watched and waited for my friend to go on stage. I clapped louder an more vehemently than before, smile and hoped he would look our way, look to see how we all came and how we are so proud of him. Later I hugged him and congratulated him several times, reminded him of how fortunate he is to be surrounded by loved ones.

Without wanting to steal the show, as I sat there, I felt the reasons why it was difficult for me, and why it took courage to attend this ceremony, even though I wanted so much to bring a smile to my friend's face and make it a memorable event.

It's the familiarity of it all. Last time I sat in such an auditorium and on such an occasion was my own graduation, only eight months or so ago. And how heavy my heart was, how terribly, terribly sad my face and composure looked on pictures I never shared with any one. And today, here I was, sitting there, though for someone else, yet trying hard to suppress the tears, trying hard not to think of that day (if it ever comes, when I complete my bar...) when I am sitting there in the crowd waiting to be called to the bar. Where would mum and dad be? Who would come attend and cheer me on? Who would come hug me, kiss me, bring me flowers and remind me of what I have just accomplished and what a feat it has all been? Oh, how my ached even though a part of me tried to be strong and tried hard to maintain a smile for others to see.

I may have been dressed elegantly, I may have looked confident and smiley, but deep down inside I cracking up.

Heading home...

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On the plane alone heading back to Montreal. The little surprise I planned was a success, and I think I brought a few smiles to my ex's face. But why do I feel so empty now? Why do I dread to go home and why does a part of me hope that something will happen to the plane...?

This is my problem. I cannot deal with loneliness, I cannot stand it much, even though most of the time I am alone. Just before leaving, I had a sort of nervous breakdown, so close to tears and I was shaking. I nearly threw up my food. A beautiful day was ending, a lovely time spent with the ex is ending. And I need to go home, on my own.

He said he's lonely too. Maybe, and he must know himself. But I do wonder how lonely one can really be when you have a partner, when you have the affection, phone calls and laughters you can have with a partner? How lonely can you be when your parents travel thousands of kilometers away to be with you on a special special occasion? How lonely can you be when your best friend/ex lover puts aside all his conflicted feelings and the difficulties of facing the beautiful love and bond of family life he craves for so much just to show up for a day to make you happy? I cannot really understand, just as he cannot fully understand what I feel when I say I've lost all that is dear to me and lost the purpose and focus of my own life. Perhaps this is where we are diverging from one another's paths: we do not seem to understand each other, do not seem any more to be able to give each other that natural feeling of joy and pleasant company we used to share and treasure so much.

He told me again he loves me and cannot stop caring about me or thinking about me. He said I've always managed to fascinate him, attract him by the "karma" (kindness) I show and by the little touching things that I do. But I feel I've lost that touch, that warmth, that passion and motivation in life to want to make a difference, to want to work towards something beautiful and meaningful. What happened? Why have I lost touch with my inner self and the me that before was so kind and so easily moved and touched?

Rightly or wrongly, I've always been geared toward making people around me happy. Perhaps my happiness depends (dangerously!) on the happiness of those around me and dearest to me. Mum formed a core of my life, my best friend/ex formed another fundamental core that touched my life like never see before. And now that both these people have become out of my life, I feel such imbalance and very distorted. when I lose people who matter most, whether through death or because they've moved on in life, I'm left without a core, without direction. It's not healthy, I know, but I am sort of useless on my own without someone to project my love and affections to. I have a cat, yes, but there's only so much I can give a cat, and only so much she can give me...

I need to find a purpose, find meaning in life, find myself and be comfortable with myself. I need to be able to fully be "me" and not allow Myself be so troubled by thoughts of doubt, thoughts of envy, dreams of the future and thoughts I self-criticism. Cry if I must, scream if I please, close my eyes and swallow the pain and hurt if I need to, but in the end I need to be strong, need to find a way to survive, and move on without lingering, without looking back.

I need to love myself, love myself so much more... Because now the only person who can offer me that fully and unconditionally is me. No one else.

Love myself, hold myself, tell myself I will be alright, tell myself I am loved and I am deserving and worthy of love... And one day, I will really be loved, I will find love, and I will love again.

Munchhauser

Just listening to a radio talk show about munch munchhauser

Operation SMILE

The other day, after another teary session between my ex and I trying to unravel the sadness and disappointments that have gotten in between us, he said: "All I want is a smile..."

 He does not know it, but come Friday (two days from now) I'm paying him a surprise visit in the hope of giving him that wish. Whatever he has done to me, whatever he is doing to me still, however I feel hurt and at times disappointed by his behaviour, he is still dear to me. Am I just a fool? Hurt and getting myself hurt again and again, and the other person seems so oblivious to it all? The most terrifying and perhaps heart-breaking thing to deal with, should it happen, is to encounter his partner there. That would just be a knife in my heart...

But I am going as a friend, a friend who cares and would like to be there to show support and how proud I am of a dear, dear friend about to achieve something remarkable and joyful. In little ways, I have been there to encourage him, support him to accomplish this important dream of becoming a fully-fledged lawyer, and this ceremony marks the results of this long and winding process (a process I myself am embarking on, albeit with much struggle and very little motivation nowadasys...). And part of the reason for me to make this visit is to see his parents again, for they have been ever so kind and caring toward me over the past years.

So I'll just go... an early flight in the morning, and a late return the same day. If worse comes to worse, I'll just turn around and leave. But at least I tried, and hopefull will succeed in bringing a smile to my ex's face, and in turn to my face too.

At the movies

To distract myself and to further procrastinate, I went to the movies late at night. Better than sitting at home and doing nothing, better than sitting there and letting my mind wander and drive myself crazy. Better to surround myself with strangers and life than sit there all alone and feel sorry for myself.

It was an empowering movie about Lincoln and his arduous struggle to bring the civil war to and the heinous phenomenon of slavery to an end.

The acting, with so many seasoned stars, was remarkable. But most of all, it was a portrayal (perhaps dramatized, perhaps hollywoodised...) of an epic turning point in history.

I was moved to tears, and in awe by the spirit and drive of a great man who believed in something so core to his being and who worked tirelessly day and night to make that dream a reality. This despite having to overcome the most painful loss of a child... His soft spoken nature, his way with words and his quiet determination were inspiring and moved me to tears...

I don't wish and never wished to achieve something great or leave a legacy behind, despite the original name my parents gave me (composed of the words "crown" and "great"...). But I do hope I can make a difference, quietly and without much fanfare, to the world of people around me.
But how do I do that when I often feel so weak and so unmotivated, when I have so little drive and so little to push myself? Truly, behind many a great men is someone to support and to console and comfort in the most difficult of times- be that in the form of parents or a partner. I do feel I need, now more than ever, people (or one special, special person) who can bring me joy and happiness, who can relate to me and my dreams and softly guide and encourage me as I try to pick myself up from the rubble of a streak of misfortunes and traumas.

I do believe I can be better again, I do long for that day when I can smile and really feel life is light and the world is so beautiful and has so much to live for... And Mr Lincoln's story was an inspiration, a moving message to my heart that life is so much bigger and greater than the petty problems and issues of a nobody approaching the third decade of his life.

Cuckoo's nest

I walked out of the CBT clinic shaking. My stomach, which was already upset, felt even more queasy. Two and a half hours of interview questions and questionnaires about my life and what's bothering me behind me. At several moments, I felt faint and wanted to close my eyes to sleep... Sleep and not have to think... Because I just can't think anymore.

My ex spend the night at my place. I thought he had no where to go. But this morning it was revealed that he could have gone to his boyfriend's family to stay the night, but he chose not to, because he was sad and affected by the anniversary of his grandma's passing. Instead he'll go there tonight, now that he's feeling better, happier and smilier. To me it is simply incomprehensible.  How can someone reserve happy moments for someone you're in a relationship in and carry the tears and what really bothers him most to me, the ex?  But who am I to judge? Perhaps I have become just that person to run to to cry and to let frustrations and hard emotions out. Maybe he can understand, maybe he does not see a problem with any of it. Maybe that's part of why I am going to therapy, because there is nothing that I can understand or make sense of...

I feel drained. I don't want to be alone, I want a body to hold me, someone or something to make me smile and forget that I had to remember and talk about such painful and traumatic experiences... This is part of what I said to the interviewers, who are assessing me to couple me with a professional. The loneliness, the numbing and disabling sense of loss and abandonment is killing me deep down and killing me so roughly.  But who do I call? Who can I call?

I feel like I've had to dig deep, to bare myself, even though as I did it the words and frustrations came out so smoothly. Mum's death, dad's death, friends' death , caregiving, and the deep sense of abandonment and disappointment at my ex's behaviour (and I seem to let it all continue... He seems oblivious to it all...) And then there's the childhood.

I shook and hesitated before I could utter those words out. The interviewers (two psychologists) were visibly taken aback when on top of everything, I revealed what happened to me as a child. "You have gone through so much..." Too much. Too much. Maybe not war and the devastation of parent losing a child, maybe not the trauma of losing a limb or watching someone get killed or maimed... but abuse is so traumatic, so overwhelming and lingering. It's like a shadow you cannot dispel, even though at times it seems to have faded away... But it always comes back. I told them I forgive, and that I have forgiven who it was who did it to me. Why? Because I do not wish to perpetuate pain, do not wish to carry the pain and misery and allow myself to hurt and abuse another like the way I was abused. But that takes a lot of courage, a lot of self-discipline and constantly keeping my actions and thoughts in check.

"You have gone through so much..." Maybe they say that to everyone who comes through the door, out of professional responsibility and out of compassion. But really, objectively, I have gone through so much and survived. Or at least am trying to. I do not wish to play a victim, do not wish to play the sympathy card. But after so much that has happened, do I not deserve the right to heal? Do I not have a real reason to cry, a real reason to be afraid that if I allow things to continue spiralling downward I will end up causing irreparable emotional (or perhaps even physical...) damage to myself?

It's a lot to take, too much piled on top of one another and too much to sort through. So I'm going to the "cuckoo's nest" in the hope of dealing with it all, in the hope of finding myself and realising that contrary to what people tell me and may think, I am not the selfish or uncaring bastard I am, I am not the mean-spirited and chronically down person I seem to be. I want a way out! I want to feel and be alive! I want to change and change for the better, for myself and for the sake of those around me!
 I maybe down and burdened by traumas and troubles a lot of the time, but it is not me, does not define me, even if friends (and I feel to an extent my ex...) seem to reject those parts of me and distance themselves from me. I am seeking help because it pains me to be and feel so negative, because it pains me to lose all sight of hope and perspective, and because I want to emerge stronger and tell myself that I deserve to be loved and loved in the way I want to be loved. Because I am worth it.

I felt shaken, nauseated and trembled as I spoke. After the intake interview, I wanted to throw up, wanted to cry. But the empty corridors of a clinic seems like such a bizarre place to break down and cry. The bitterly cold temperatures outside did not make me feel better (-26C!)

But I got home, a place where I could relieve myself, and let myself go. Hug my blanket like it is someone's comforting body, and let myself go...

The eve of therapy

I last had therapy eleven years ago. It was the summer of 2001, the summer before university began. For months I had been struggling with nightmares and flashbacks from my childhood. I sought help in self-help books, I read up on "people like me". But it was not enough. I was near breaking point. I felt it, and it weight heavily on my shoulders...

I asked a dear friend, who herself was a therapist, and for many years cared about my wellbeing when my mum moved away for a referral. Within a few weeks, I began.

I didn't know what to expect, but I remember the sessions were intense and left me crying. Mozart's Jupiter symphony empowered me. But still I had to grapple with the pain and hurt caused by memories of abuse and face terrible images and moments of the past I wanted to dispel. But nothing could be dispelled or discarded unless they are unearthed...
That was what that therapy was for.

And it helped. I felt stronger, somewhat, more confident, a bit at least, and I cold go about my daily life without feeling like a failure or like I'm failing... It carried me far. Till now.

And now, after all the noise and troubles dealing with deaths and loss of a relationship that seemed so promising, I need help again. Desperately, urgently.
Need it before I collapse and kill myself, in one way or another.

And tomorrow is a new start, even though I don't know what to expect. All I know is it will not be easy, it will not be easy at all. But dealing pain and hurt never is.

I just hope I have the strength to deal with it all and cope on my own.

Rememberance

I woke up relatively early today, and headed to the florist. Today is the one year anniversary of the passing of my ex's grandmother. I  wanted to do something special for him, to help him get by what I imagine would be a rough day. Especially as the exact moment when he got a phone call from home with "the news" he wrote to me and said it felt rough...

So I got him flowers and brought a candle, and brought it to the office. Clandestinely, I went to seek him out at the library where he said he was studying, and it felt exciting and fun walking around playing "seek" (he wasn't really hiding...), something that reminded me of a game we played between rows of books late 2011 when he and I both agreed to encourage one another to study at the library.

Later in the afternoon, he came to my office and I gave him the things I brought to help him hold a little remembrance ceremony. His eyes turned red, and he was obviously touched. For several moments, he talked about his grandma and shared with me sweet memories from his childhood.

Then what happened? Somehow, I can't even remember how, the conversation strayed to the fragile state of our relationship at the moment. Perhaps it didn't help when I mentioned to him, because I think of all people he should know, that I'm committing myself to a clinic tomorrow for a psychological assessment for my severe bout of depression. He broke down and sobbed, saying he feels he has failed me so because all he ever wanted was to help me get through through. Somehow, his help became hurt to me... "We are destroying each other..." he said.

Today was supposed to be about his grandma, someone he cared about a lot and whom my ex visited every time he went home, but somehow (like so often nowadays...) the topic of conversation between us never seems to stray too far away from us and what "was" and what we "had".

Why...? Why is that?

Isn't it so sad that after four years of friendship, and fully knowing how much care and love there is for one another, now all we seem able to do is make each other cry and make each other hurt. I don't know why I get the feeling there's a lot of hostility toward me and where it comes from, because after all that has happened between us, even as much as it hurts and disappoints me, I believe I am willing to overlook things in the past and just try be there for him... Why else would I buy flowers and try to help him through this special day? Why else did I just clandestinely buy a plane ticket (same-day return, no less!) to surprise him at the call to bar ceremony taking place this Friday?
It's because I want to make him happy, make him smile, because when I see that, it makes me happy, makes me smile, even if he just wants to be friends now, even if he seems to have left behind all those dreams and hopes of being together one day...

It hurts to see such a beautiful and strong  bond just break down so incomprehensibly, and to see two people hurt and cry like this. It doesn't have to be like this, does it?

Sleeplessness at 4am

Restless and sleepless... Four in the morning, a few hours till I need to get up and head to work.

My mind is so tested. I close my eyes and cannot sleep, for my thoughts drift to the ex. Does he know I think of him? Does he think of me at all? Why do I even think of him, when he could be having a jolly good right now lying next someone he is so unwilling to let go of despite all he's told me about how much he loves me over and above anyone else? Well, I hope he's happy now, finally happy now that he's got free from me and does not need to listen to or know about what pains me so or what makes me cry.

It's sad, because the end of my relationship with him and the loss of my mother has driven me to extreme lows. Tomorrow, I'm checking myself into a therapy clinic just so that I do not have to feel, so I do not have to hurt, so I can pick up my life again. Sad that I am in need of professional help in overcoming loss-- loss of a dear, dear friend, and the loss of my mother. How can these two fundamentally different relationships and people in my life be impacting me so much? What clout did they have over my life and my wellbeing?

I do not think my ex has any idea how much I have been disabled by the depression that has descended my feelings and thoughts. I don't think anyone knows or cares to realise how much I've been affected over the last two years by the slow loss of my mother and by the way I've had to experience and watch again and again how my ex (willingly or otherwise, consciously, intentionally or otherwise...) made me believe in something profound between us while at the same time he still being involved with another person. Together these two relationships have destroyed me, an together the end of these two relationships have destroyed all that I thought was strong and stable and dependable in life. I guess I've been blinded and living in a fantasy world where mum would get better and in which I would be with the one and only love I've encountered in my life...

But can I blame him or my mum? Can I blame anyone at all, if I the one who allowed this to happen? Can I blame anyone if I'm the one who, despite repeated warnings and signs, allowed two people to be so central to my life and affect me so much? Can I even lament when I should have known one day things will fall apart and I will need to fend for myself? Can I blame anyone but myself to allow myself to descend to this destructive and negative state of being?

I alone am causing my own suffering. I alone can free myself from my own suffering.

Silver spoon

It was a joke. Or was it?

A friend said I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, meaning I don't have to worry about means and money that much. Meaning I'm the son of rich parents who have left behind a lot of money so I don't have to worry about thing...The other day, someone came to my house and said I live a "lavish" life in an apartment with two rooms and with all the accessories and household goods any one could wish for. These two events really hit and hurt me hard.

It's true. I have been fortunate, very fortunate that my parents have provided me a life in which I do not have to worry (at least not to much...) about having food on the table or a roof over my head. It's true, especially since dad passed away, I have had the (economic) freedom to travel and come and go anywhere as I wish. And it was because of this that a friend said in jest (was it really?) that he can only go home to see his family once a year or so, whereas I can go whenever I want. And now my mum's gone, I stand to get even more...

I fell silent. Perhaps I should not be too affected by words of others. But I hate to give the impression I squander money and do not value what my parents have given me. Because it is one thing I told myself again and again after dad passed away, and now mum has also left, that I must pay heed to. They have left me something, but I cannot and will not allow myself to just waste it away meaninglessly.

Maybe I am just justifying things to myself, or at least trying to. But seriously, over the past five, six years, where do most of my expenses go? Plane tickets back and forth between here and home (Asia), buying medicine and supplements for mum so she does not have to suffer side-effects of cancer and treatments that much... buying mum household goods to make her life easier and more comfortable... taking mum on luxurious once-in-a-lifetime trips with my own money. Yes, luxurious, lavish, excessive spendings at times, and of course I get benefits too. But  really, was any of it just for me, for my own selfish needs and desires? Were most of it not for mum's sake and to make her happy?

I may have been born with a silver spoon, but little do people realise how much I struggle even to buy clothes for myself, how I go for discounted items at the supermarket. Perhaps of all people, mum knows best how thrift (and sometimes to the point of being cruel...) I can be when it comes to buying things for myself. Sure, I admit I may indulge in buying model airplanes now and then, I may collect stuffed animals and souvenirs from my travels, but other than that, do I really spend without thinking?

At one point, I said: "I may have all this, but what else do I have?" Do I have a family? Do I have parents I could call up and talk to whenever I want to? Do I have the luxury of a warm family home I can return to? What I would give to speak to my parents again... what I would give to recreate that feeling of going home and having my family sit down together again for a meal, for a few round of laughs and few  more memories together...



Yes, I have a lot of material things, I have means, I have all that my parents left behind... But I am alone and struggling to find meaning and sense in having so much, and yet feeling so empty deep down inside.

(or is this perhaps the talk and thinking of someone who has a silver spoon in his mouth?)

Night in

My colleagues came to cheer me up on this Saturday night... I'm very grateful, for I have been feeling so lonely and fragile being alone at home. They came, had dinner with me, and we played a game and watched a movie. By the time the night ended, it was already past one in the morning.

I was sad to see them go, even going as far as asking them to stay over. There are two spare beds they could easily sleep in. When did I become so clingy? Or am I just afraid to be alone, afraid that I will break down and cry and cry again?

It felt wonderful to be surrounded by people and to be playing board games. It's been such a long time. And perhaps a reason why it felt good was because these colleagues do not know my ex (at least not that well), so there's none of that awkwardness or feelings that there are things unsaid. Honestly, I just feel like I cannot talk to anyone nowadays, and not least talk about my deepest feelings because (paranoid or otherwise...) I feel word could easily get around. It's a sad state of affairs when you have to be ever so watchful of what you say to your friends. Makes you wonder why they are friends in the first place when anything and everything you say can become the source of idle gossip and entertainment.


 I helped to clear the snow away from the car, and stood there on the street to watch them drive off. "Thank you so much for coming..." I said. I really was grateful, so glad that they came and spent the night with me. I needed it, I long for it. It makes me happy to bring some kind of joy and warmth into the lives of others. It touches me to hear that my little home (and cat...) gives them a feeling of warmth and belonging.

I told them that to be honest, the two bedroom flat feels a bit empty and big for just one person. Why did I get this place three years ago? I imagined mum would retire and maybe come live here a few months per year... I guess I imagined also of living with someone dear, and establishing a realm home together, because god knows I need that and long for that. Well, also partly because I wanted to give my cat more space to run in and big windows she can look out of...

Well, now it's just me now, in this apartment with all these personal belongings and household goods. It's very homely, very comfortable, and perhaps I do not appreciate it as much as I should. But is not warmth and homeliness better when shared?