13 July 2013

One year on



One year on...

How am I doing? Still feeling so tired, so sleepy a lot of the time. (Not all the time, so that may be an improvement.) (... then again, the tiredness may be from the long bike ride last weekend, from which I'm still feeling muscle sores and cramps...) 

The other day, after a long day at work, I walked home. And for a split second felt "good". Or was that feeling "normal"? For a split moment, I actually felt and thought  I could do something with my life. I had motivation, had some kind of drive. Thought its still unclear what I would like to do, at least I felt I could get somewhere, be somebody. I don't remember the last time I felt this way, if ever I did...


I am getting stronger. Little by little stronger on my own. But, oh, how much easier it would be if someone could take me by the hand, lie next to me and tell me: "you are doing well. You are doing remarkably well..."

Dream

Another horrible dream that "shocked" me awake... Just shows my psyche is still so traumatised and unable to get over loss. Not the loss of my parent, but a friend, a potential partner in life... 


I was planning a surprise, birthday surprise, for my ex. I woke up so early to prepare, and traveled far to his apartment . I waited and waited till it was a reasonable time to call. 

I called. And the phone was hung up. I called again. And my ex picked up. He was laughing. He was not alone. 

I cried...

Traumatising. 

11 July 2013

10 July 2013

truth about love


Am I the fool to be waiting and still clinging onto hope? The hopeless romantic who still believes in miracles?
The hopeless fool who lets his youth slip by waiting and waiting because some one once said to me he'd be there for me no matter what? 

I'm a fool, a foolish fool.
A crying fool.


You've been on this ride? Someone leads you on and throws you away?
-  I think i fell in love with the idea of love as much as anything else. It's easy to do. It makes you feel safe. But as much as we wish we could, you can't force someone to love you...           PAN AM

"I'm beginning to think love is a fantasy. One day there. And the next moment, gone."

http://www.purposefairy.com/5311/forgiveness-5-reasons-why-you-should-let-go-of-resentments/

09 July 2013

Secret operation


I've been planning something for a while now. Since mum passed away really. The past year, a year of volatility and mourning, wasn't really conducive to making big decisions. But now I think I'm ready. One year on, I think I'm ready to take the first step to make a new start, to build a new home for myself.

I always imagined someone would be next to me while I begin another important era in my life. I always imagined mum would be there to help me and offer me advice. But the reality is I have nobody but myself to rely on, and I can't wait any longer. I'm not getting younger. I need to find a sense of belonging, need to ground myself somewhere so I can find and feel a sense of stability and security again. The past years has been filled with so much loss, uncertainty and disillusionment. What that does to a person, I know best. I can let myself wallow in pity and pain, or I can get up and move on. Didn't I just bike 230+km on my own? Didn't I just prove to myself if I set my mind to something, I can do it?

Where, how or when I'm not sure. But I'm free. Nothing, nobody is tying me down. Nothing, nobody is waiting for me. I am but responsible to myself. 

Time for a new beginning. Time for a move.




Remembering

After the horrible night last night, I called work to tell my colleague I'm still sore from my bike ride. In truth, I've been just dreading to go out the door and face the world. In truth, I just want to be alone. Even the cat is lethargic and been lying around at the same spot the whole day...

I really shouldn't go back to dig up the past... But it draws me with such attraction.
Only I will really remember every detail from the days till mum died to her funeral, only I will really remember every word said, every promise made, everything I have had to quickly pack away...

Only I will really know how it feels like to lose everything and everyone that made my life feel reassuring and meaningful.

4.15AM

Such horrible dreams kept repeating...

Ghosts of girls who died from illness, from cancer. It was as if I were their spokesperson, for they all came to me to bother me, haunt me....

Horrible

2.42AM



I broke out in sweat and woke up scared and alone, close to tears. Just you think you're ok, just you think you're beginning to heal, things are beginning to return to normal, grief comes to haunt you in your sleep... Loneliness crawls into bed at night and lies down next to you...

I was flying... Flying alone to somewhere. The plane descends suddenly, we were about to crash. I call out... But whose name do I call? Whose name can I call in time of need, when I need comfort and consolation? 

Mama? Dead. Papa? Dead. My ex? Too busy with his own life and happily married. My lover, partner? Non existent. A friend I can really trust and confide in? Nobody I could think of. Nobody's name I could call out.

The plane came diving down and I tried to call out a name, but I could not. I am alone in the world. All alone. How scary is that thought? How terrible to die alone and unnoticed, unmissed? How terrible to go through life alone and crying out and nobody will answer you... 

I woke up heaving and felt my heart thump and my throat so dry. 

Grief and loneliness has not gone yet, not  quite. They have just been on leave but are returning. And like on the plane in that dream I just had, who do I call? Whose name do I call out? Who will listen and understand...?

07 July 2013

The finish line




I fell asleep, was out cold almost as soon as I got on the return shuttle home. An hour or so later, and the effects of the painkiller had worn off. 

My knees and calves and ankles hurt terrible. I began to feel it this morning, and have been applying ice at regular pit stops. Before the final 16km leg, I asked medical staff for some meds, something I never do. I was given Tylenol for the pain and Advil to prevent inflammation. 

Sure enough, the pain subsided, and I could make that final push, even reaching speeds of 35km at one point. I rolled to the finish line. I was one of the last ones, the crowds were more or less gone, or perhaps too tired of cheering. I heard my name called on the loudspeakers, a few sporadic applauses. I biked slowly, and came to a halt in the middle of a gravel field. 

The end was not what I expected. Nobody greeted me, nobody hugged me or congratulated me personally. I was sweaty and perhaps smelly, and I just went to drop off my bike for transport back to Montreal and went to change my clothes before grabbing a quick bite. 

The end was not what I expected. What did I expect? I looked away, at all these family and friends, colleagues and fellow bikers from various teams laughing, jumping up and down, posing in for group pictures. The end felt empty. The end was not as invigorating as the ride itself.

I did it. I "conquered cancer", to borrow the event's slogan. I rode 237+km from start to finish, ride every kilometer of it with my two tired feet and with the strength and determination of my now exhausted body. It was a personal achievement. I felt like giving up so many times during this ride. I felt I could not do it, and doubted my own abilities. When my leg starting acting up (the last time, it was after 140+km or so, last year when I attempted to bike around Taiwan... And failed) I seriously considered stoping and asking for a ride in one of those "sweeper" vehicles that went up and down the road sweeping for riders who have broken down (physically or had a problem with their bike). 

But I persevered. I thought of all those times at the hospital... I remembered all the pain and suffering mum endured, all the discomfort dad swallowed and did not let us know... And around the world, even around me, are so many brave cancer warriors who fight for every breath, for every moment to continue fighting, to continue living. My physical pain is nothing compared to what cancer patients have to go through, nothing.

I pushed on. Bore the pain, gritted my teeth, an pushed on. Slowly, slowly, the sped toward the finish line. I passed a number of riders with a yellow flag. They are cancer survivors. I saw how the they pedaled on, how undeterred by the fatigue and distance they were. When they take off their helmets, you can see the effects of chemo. When you look at their thin frail frames and limbs, their pale skin, you realise again how ruthless cancer is. But they continued to bike. Continued to try. How could I not?

There was another man who had some kind of motor neuron disease. I noticed him yesterday, how he moved forward in a snake-like manner, how he wobbled on his bike and struggled to balance himself. He too was an inspiration, for he continued on and on.  These people are true heroes, true heroines, who truly deserve the fanfare and police escort till the ends. 


What kept me going was that empowering humming sound of my wheels against the road. What kept me going was looking at teddy bear that my mum gave me two years ago (I also had with me  a teddy my ex insisted I take along, whose smile is tirelessly infectious and beautiful). I also carried a picture of mum and dad together, mum holding dad's arm posing at a professional photo shop. A beautiful portrait, one that urged me on and reminded me why I am biking. What kept me going in part was my promise to all those who sponsored me to finish this ride, and the "likes" of people whenever I shared a picture of my progress online. What kept me going was that sense of accomplishment waiting for me at the finish line.

I didn't really feel much at the end. Got off my bike and got my gear and soon was on board the shuttle. Should I be proud? Should I be of this little "achievement"? At the finish line, I admired those who were greeted with family members and friends, those who were cheered on by loved ones. I felt empty, so strangely empty. This was not the welcome surprise I expected, not at all the feeling I expected from doing this.

This ride was partly for me, and perhaps that in itself is a reward more valuable than a cheering party or "mission accomplished" banner. I needs to prove to myself I can do something I set out to do, that I can overcome physical and mental challenges, and that I can do it on my own. I needed a long and physical bike ride to see the world (and what beauty there is to behold in La Belle Province), to help dispel feelings of grief and loneliness, abandonment and distrust I have faced and struggled with over the past year. I am not sure what the immediate effect of this bike ride is, just as I am not sure how flying all the way home two weeks ago helped (or did not help) in the long and difficult and extremely personal process to overcome grief. But perhaps one day, every thing will come together. Perhaps one day, I will realise why I did what I did, and how it helped me heal, helped me be a "better", stronger me. 

I am extremely grateful though... For all the people who sponsored and believed in me (especially my ex...)... For all those volunteers who have me food and drinks at the pit stops, who made my tent, who kept the event running flawlessly... For all those strangers who came out on the streets to cheer and encourage us, for all the cars who drove by us and honked in support or slowed down for us... And for my bike, who did not have an mechanical problem at all (except for a punctured tire, which was almost immediately sealed with liquid sealant, a true godsend!)... And I am grateful to my parents, who gave me life, who gave me this healthy body that allowed me to embark on a dream, to do something useful or and give back to society.

This bike ride was for them.

Ride to conquer cancer

It's wet, my back is aching from sleeping on the ground, a thin separating me from the damp and cold grass. But I'm alive. I'm well. I'm fit (I think...)



I've seen so many weakened by and die from cancer. So many. Those lying in bed next for mum at the hospital, those lying in the hospice. My own father, my own mother, my dear friends Carmen and Tehwei, my uncle... Did they complain? Did they lament life and te discomforts of their illness and pain? 

Last night, I cried when this grail lady with shaven head came on stage. I saw her bike air her daughter (I think). They were slow, but going at a steady pace. They took pictures at scenic spots. It was beautiful to see. She came on stage and revealed she had just competed her latest round of three weeks ago. And here she is, biking with so many thousands of bikers for the same cause.  It was beautiful....

This is why I am here. To ride to "conquer" cancer. 
Of course people are goin to die from cancer while we embark on this ride, of course millions will be diagnosed with cancer still. But we are staying the course, we are doing our bit to help. Raise money is what we can do. Show compassion and empathy is how we can help best. Being aware and taking preventive steps is how we can help ourselves. 

With every pedal, we are getting closet to our goal, our destination: one day we will conquer cancer. One day...