A short one, this time. I haven't been able to sleep soundly for a couple of weeks now. Maybe my apparently-flat-now pillow contributes to that, or maybe it's because now it's officially winter. Short days and long nights. Kinda depressing when you feel lethargic all the time. Anyway, I woke up around 7 am and still felt really tired and the sky was still dark, I went back to sleep. And I had a strange dream.
The dream:
I was with my family. I couldn't recognise the house/building we were all in, but it seemed familiar, like a hotel at a holiday-destination somewhere. I felt incredible pain on/in one of my wisdom teeth: the left down one. I felt it was wobbly and I told my mum that there's something wrong with my tooth. I said, "I think the seal is broken, again. It feels loose." I touched my tooth and there's this sticky thing stuck to it, as if placing the tooth together.
The sticky thing started triggering my gagging reflex, so I tried to pull it out of my mouth. And I did, slowly, and every time I pulled a piece of it out, I felt the amazing pain in my tooth. When the last bit of the sticky thing was out, my gum was bleeding. A lot. I almost choked on my own blood. And to make things worse, I spat out a hard thing and I realised it was half of my wisdom tooth (that was being held together by the sticky stuff).
The tooth looked like a fossilied tooth from a dead dinosaur that you would see in any museum displaying fossils. It got some hair on it, though. And blood. Practically one of the grossest things I've seen in my dream. All that time, my gum was throbbing with pain and I remembered my mum was saying that seeing me in pain physically hurt her too. She would never say that in real life, of course.
I woke up after I spat the last bit of my tooth out. And of course I immediately touched the said wisdom tooth. It was fine.
Friday, December 12, 2014
Saturday, November 29, 2014
A series of changes
It's closing to the end on 2014. It's been an interesting year and it feels like it's nearing the end so fast. Maybe because I have spent most of the year waiting: waiting for my partner to visit, waiting for my turn to visit, waiting for my visa approval, waiting for my savings to increase a bit more so I could afford plane tickets, waiting for cheap plane tickets, and so on.
In the middle of all of those waitings, I worked and worked and worked. Sometimes I hung out or did sport, but most of the times I worked. It didn't even feel like I had any time off since March. Only after I resettled myself in our flat that I could think of the time when I'm "not working." It was a little bit strange when I realised that I could actually stop working.
We have made plans. And plans have been cancelled and changed due to various reasons. We thought things were secured. Yet things were changing constantly because of so many unexpected factors. Sometimes it feels like living on a tiny island somewhere in the tropics where you can get a massive storm in the middle of the dry season...just because.
We learn and adapt. Sometimes it's so easy that I can happily pat myself on the shoulder for putting up so well. Sometimes it's so hard that I would find consolation by obsessively cleaning the kitchen--longing that sense of order and predictability. Baking and cooking become a set of little achievements, like playing Mario Cart. You get different trophies for completing different challenges. A golden spatula for baking a nice carrot cake with delicious frosting. A silver knife for cooking amazing red-braised pork. And so on. You learn to appreciate little things that you do well because everything else kinda sucks.
Maybe next year I will learn: how to appreciate constant changes in life and the ability to adapt to new things fast.
In the middle of all of those waitings, I worked and worked and worked. Sometimes I hung out or did sport, but most of the times I worked. It didn't even feel like I had any time off since March. Only after I resettled myself in our flat that I could think of the time when I'm "not working." It was a little bit strange when I realised that I could actually stop working.
We have made plans. And plans have been cancelled and changed due to various reasons. We thought things were secured. Yet things were changing constantly because of so many unexpected factors. Sometimes it feels like living on a tiny island somewhere in the tropics where you can get a massive storm in the middle of the dry season...just because.
We learn and adapt. Sometimes it's so easy that I can happily pat myself on the shoulder for putting up so well. Sometimes it's so hard that I would find consolation by obsessively cleaning the kitchen--longing that sense of order and predictability. Baking and cooking become a set of little achievements, like playing Mario Cart. You get different trophies for completing different challenges. A golden spatula for baking a nice carrot cake with delicious frosting. A silver knife for cooking amazing red-braised pork. And so on. You learn to appreciate little things that you do well because everything else kinda sucks.
Maybe next year I will learn: how to appreciate constant changes in life and the ability to adapt to new things fast.
Monday, November 17, 2014
Dream journal--04
Didn't realise I haven't written for a while. I have been back in Utrecht for almost 2 months now and everyday life just sort of take most of my time. And I'm starting to find cooking and baking as another challenge to tackle, like learning Dutch. I still, however, have bad dreams. Not every night, but quite a lot that they make me feel tired most mornings.
I woke up this morning after a long exhausting dream. I only remember the last bit of the dream.
The dream:
I was with my family having lunch. We were in a restaurant at a hotel somewhere hot and bright. We were just talking and I saw there's a group of kids playing in the pool. I thought they were just playing, but then I noticed one of them had a kitten in his hand. He was dunking the kitten into the water and actually trying to get it drowned in the pool. It was a shallow pool, but still terrifyingly large and deep for a tiny kitten.
I could feel my heart stopped for a second when I saw the wet kitten, making distress noises, and I did what I would in real life: I lunged into the water and grabbed the kitten. It was under the water but I quickly grabbed it and took it out of the water. It was breathing fine and was meowing still, maybe afraid or something. I tried to give instant warmth by putting it under my shirt (which was wet, so that was dumb, but whatever). The kids started yelling at me. The boy, who was trying to drown the kitten, shouted, "That's my kitten! You can't take it from me!" in a-spoilt-little-shit kind of way of yelling. I said, "Animals are not for playing like that. If you can't take care of them, might as well stay away from them."
Surprisingly, I wasn't angry with the kids, just worried about the kitten. So I took it back to the table, my family didn't say anything. Actually, before I ran to the pool, I vaguely heard my mum saying, "Be nice to the kids, okay." That's just like so my mum. Anyway, I took the kitten and tried to dry it and it was purring so I thought it was going to be fine. Then, the parents came. One parent apologised and thought the incident was unacceptable and he would tell his kid that, but another parent started shouting at me. He basically told me to mind my own fucking business and if I liked kittens that much (that I had to steal the kids' kitten) I should just get one. He ended his rant by shouting more abuses at me. So, of course I shouted back at him and told him I hope his daughter drowned and no one helped her. Not very nice, I know.
And then I woke up.
I woke up this morning after a long exhausting dream. I only remember the last bit of the dream.
The dream:
I was with my family having lunch. We were in a restaurant at a hotel somewhere hot and bright. We were just talking and I saw there's a group of kids playing in the pool. I thought they were just playing, but then I noticed one of them had a kitten in his hand. He was dunking the kitten into the water and actually trying to get it drowned in the pool. It was a shallow pool, but still terrifyingly large and deep for a tiny kitten.
I could feel my heart stopped for a second when I saw the wet kitten, making distress noises, and I did what I would in real life: I lunged into the water and grabbed the kitten. It was under the water but I quickly grabbed it and took it out of the water. It was breathing fine and was meowing still, maybe afraid or something. I tried to give instant warmth by putting it under my shirt (which was wet, so that was dumb, but whatever). The kids started yelling at me. The boy, who was trying to drown the kitten, shouted, "That's my kitten! You can't take it from me!" in a-spoilt-little-shit kind of way of yelling. I said, "Animals are not for playing like that. If you can't take care of them, might as well stay away from them."
Surprisingly, I wasn't angry with the kids, just worried about the kitten. So I took it back to the table, my family didn't say anything. Actually, before I ran to the pool, I vaguely heard my mum saying, "Be nice to the kids, okay." That's just like so my mum. Anyway, I took the kitten and tried to dry it and it was purring so I thought it was going to be fine. Then, the parents came. One parent apologised and thought the incident was unacceptable and he would tell his kid that, but another parent started shouting at me. He basically told me to mind my own fucking business and if I liked kittens that much (that I had to steal the kids' kitten) I should just get one. He ended his rant by shouting more abuses at me. So, of course I shouted back at him and told him I hope his daughter drowned and no one helped her. Not very nice, I know.
And then I woke up.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
The state of this country
I woke up when my phone made a noise. It stopped me from dreaming (hence, I can't even remember the dream). I saw a notification: new headlines from one of the English-language newspaper in the country. News about how the House is planning to revise the Law for the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK). And I thought, WTF? Not a very pleasant way to wake up.
It seems like a continuation of the House's efforts to disrupt the upcoming presidential period. They have scrapped the direct election for regional (provincial) leaders in the country last week and now they are trying to limit KPK and even plan to change the presidential election system (instead of a direct vote from the people, the House will do the job for us). You can read about the change in the provincial leaders' election here.
We just celebrated the success of Jokowi, a commoner with impressive track records in government work (unlike his rival, Prabowo, who has notorious human rights violation records) and now it does feel, at least for me, that the House of Representatives robbed us that victory by clearly not taking the people's side; the ones that they should represent at the first place.
One of my biggest concerns is how very little people seem to care and how confusing it is to do something if you care. I spoke to several friends who understand politics and the political system in Indonesia better than I do (I know nothing about the two topics), and so far the available solution if (I) you want to do something is to hold a protest. Not a social media one, but a real one on the street. I don't know how to rally people or to organise a protest. I know some people who were active in 1998 and they said it's time for the next generation to start a change. Okay. How? Where to start?
Signing petition(s) on Facebook or Change.org is quite easy, but will it actually matter? Can someone with more knowledge in this matter point to the right direction (whatever that means because for me everything is very foggy at the moment)?
Help?
It seems like a continuation of the House's efforts to disrupt the upcoming presidential period. They have scrapped the direct election for regional (provincial) leaders in the country last week and now they are trying to limit KPK and even plan to change the presidential election system (instead of a direct vote from the people, the House will do the job for us). You can read about the change in the provincial leaders' election here.
We just celebrated the success of Jokowi, a commoner with impressive track records in government work (unlike his rival, Prabowo, who has notorious human rights violation records) and now it does feel, at least for me, that the House of Representatives robbed us that victory by clearly not taking the people's side; the ones that they should represent at the first place.
One of my biggest concerns is how very little people seem to care and how confusing it is to do something if you care. I spoke to several friends who understand politics and the political system in Indonesia better than I do (I know nothing about the two topics), and so far the available solution if (I) you want to do something is to hold a protest. Not a social media one, but a real one on the street. I don't know how to rally people or to organise a protest. I know some people who were active in 1998 and they said it's time for the next generation to start a change. Okay. How? Where to start?
Signing petition(s) on Facebook or Change.org is quite easy, but will it actually matter? Can someone with more knowledge in this matter point to the right direction (whatever that means because for me everything is very foggy at the moment)?
Help?
Monday, September 22, 2014
Dream Journal--03
I had this dream a week ago. I was staying at a friend's house in Jakarta for a week, so maybe that's the reason I had weird dreams. This is a short one as I didn't write it down immediately after I woke up, so I can't really remember the details.
The dream:
I was living in a kind of plantation-cum-estate, in what seemed like a 18th-century Indonesia/Southeast Asia (colonised area). I guess I got references from history books (I just recently finished Raffles and the British Invasion of Java by Tim Hannigan). There were a lot of people living there, including my family. The workers (or should I say slaves?) were mostly Asians from parts of Asia/Southeast Asia. I recognised a woman who's probably from Thailand. Everyone spoke English in my dream though. Yes, weird. Anyway, I can't remember what happened in the beginning of the dream but what I remember is that there was the plantation/estate owner who's apparently an African and he was very mean. I can't really remember why he was mean or how his meanness was exactly. But the people who lived on the plantation/estate felt oppressed and wanted to be free.
For some weird reason, the people thought that asking one of the women to sleep with the landowner was a good idea. One woman volunteered and everyone cheered her. She was the Thai-looking person. So, the woman went to the bedchamber of the landowner and slept with him. I didn't actually witness the sex scene in the dream as an invisible observer. It would be weird watching two weird strangers having sex in my dream. After they finished, the landowner started laughing and said, "How much of a fool are you? Do you think I don't know what you are planning? And I can sleep with anyone that I want!" Which makes perfect sense. I mean, why on earth would you sleep with your enemy if you were not going to get anything useful? She should have stabbed him in the back or something, but she didn't. Instead she just sat on the bed, looking shocked.
After that, I heard people talking in the living room. I went there and saw my family sitting together and there was one African woman. She was apparently the owner's henchwoman. She was also the executioner. She announced loudly that any attempt of mutiny would be punished severely and that the Thai-looking woman was waiting for her punishment. The punishment was getting your skull bashed by a clay pot. It was a heavy pot when I tried to lift it and in the dream I was imagining how painful it would be. I went out of the room because I didn't want to look, and when I was at the door, I ran into the Thai lady. She didn't look scared, just confused. I told her I wouldn't go into the living room because the African lady would punish her, but then I retracted and said that it would probably be worse if she didn't go.
She stared at me and nodded and went into the room. I stood close to the door and I could hear people murmuring. I could hear the booming voice of the African lady when she again announced the punishment. She offered the head-bashing or death. The Thai lady chose her head to be bashed by a piece of pottery.
I heard a loud cracking noise.
And then, I went back to the room. Everyone was gone except for my mum and an old man. I saw blood on the floor and in a bucket. I asked my mum how's the Thai lady doing and she told me that she's still alive but she wouldn't live for long because after all death was the only option offered.
And then I woke up.
The dream:
I was living in a kind of plantation-cum-estate, in what seemed like a 18th-century Indonesia/Southeast Asia (colonised area). I guess I got references from history books (I just recently finished Raffles and the British Invasion of Java by Tim Hannigan). There were a lot of people living there, including my family. The workers (or should I say slaves?) were mostly Asians from parts of Asia/Southeast Asia. I recognised a woman who's probably from Thailand. Everyone spoke English in my dream though. Yes, weird. Anyway, I can't remember what happened in the beginning of the dream but what I remember is that there was the plantation/estate owner who's apparently an African and he was very mean. I can't really remember why he was mean or how his meanness was exactly. But the people who lived on the plantation/estate felt oppressed and wanted to be free.
For some weird reason, the people thought that asking one of the women to sleep with the landowner was a good idea. One woman volunteered and everyone cheered her. She was the Thai-looking person. So, the woman went to the bedchamber of the landowner and slept with him. I didn't actually witness the sex scene in the dream as an invisible observer. It would be weird watching two weird strangers having sex in my dream. After they finished, the landowner started laughing and said, "How much of a fool are you? Do you think I don't know what you are planning? And I can sleep with anyone that I want!" Which makes perfect sense. I mean, why on earth would you sleep with your enemy if you were not going to get anything useful? She should have stabbed him in the back or something, but she didn't. Instead she just sat on the bed, looking shocked.
After that, I heard people talking in the living room. I went there and saw my family sitting together and there was one African woman. She was apparently the owner's henchwoman. She was also the executioner. She announced loudly that any attempt of mutiny would be punished severely and that the Thai-looking woman was waiting for her punishment. The punishment was getting your skull bashed by a clay pot. It was a heavy pot when I tried to lift it and in the dream I was imagining how painful it would be. I went out of the room because I didn't want to look, and when I was at the door, I ran into the Thai lady. She didn't look scared, just confused. I told her I wouldn't go into the living room because the African lady would punish her, but then I retracted and said that it would probably be worse if she didn't go.
She stared at me and nodded and went into the room. I stood close to the door and I could hear people murmuring. I could hear the booming voice of the African lady when she again announced the punishment. She offered the head-bashing or death. The Thai lady chose her head to be bashed by a piece of pottery.
I heard a loud cracking noise.
And then, I went back to the room. Everyone was gone except for my mum and an old man. I saw blood on the floor and in a bucket. I asked my mum how's the Thai lady doing and she told me that she's still alive but she wouldn't live for long because after all death was the only option offered.
And then I woke up.
Friday, August 29, 2014
Dream Journal--02
This is a short one, since I don't remember most of the dream. This is the last part of the dream.
The dream:
I was in a building that looked really similar to my old high school. It was an old building and a bit dark. I was trying to wait for someone. It's not clear who the person was or why I was there waiting. And then I went to a different room, which looked very much like the school's nurse's office. There was someone on the bed, moaning and saying something about getting bitten. I knew what bit this kid in the dream, but I didn't say.
I went out from the nurse's office and headed to a classroom where I found myself only covered in a thin blanket. I remember I felt the confusion when I realised I was only wearing a piece of blanket. No one cared about my lack of proper clothes. People were very tense in the room, because apparently the teacher was giving out some kind of a quiz.
Her questions were simple: what were the factors that contributed to climate change? And what were the ways to rehabilitate the environment? (When I woke up, I was like, what the hell?) I was nervous because I came late (not because I wasn't wearing clothes) and tried to think of the answers so I could get good marks. The teacher was an old woman with glasses and a head scarf. Very much like a lot of female teachers in Indonesia.
Finally, I went to the blackboard (yes, old-fashioned blackboard) and got the chalk and scribbled something about cattle farming (and the land that was used for the cattle to graze, instead of used to plant food). The teacher just scowled even more. Maybe she finally noticed my nakedness. After that, class was dismissed. I didn't get any points for my answer.
And then I woke up. With a headache.
The dream:
I was in a building that looked really similar to my old high school. It was an old building and a bit dark. I was trying to wait for someone. It's not clear who the person was or why I was there waiting. And then I went to a different room, which looked very much like the school's nurse's office. There was someone on the bed, moaning and saying something about getting bitten. I knew what bit this kid in the dream, but I didn't say.
I went out from the nurse's office and headed to a classroom where I found myself only covered in a thin blanket. I remember I felt the confusion when I realised I was only wearing a piece of blanket. No one cared about my lack of proper clothes. People were very tense in the room, because apparently the teacher was giving out some kind of a quiz.
Her questions were simple: what were the factors that contributed to climate change? And what were the ways to rehabilitate the environment? (When I woke up, I was like, what the hell?) I was nervous because I came late (not because I wasn't wearing clothes) and tried to think of the answers so I could get good marks. The teacher was an old woman with glasses and a head scarf. Very much like a lot of female teachers in Indonesia.
Finally, I went to the blackboard (yes, old-fashioned blackboard) and got the chalk and scribbled something about cattle farming (and the land that was used for the cattle to graze, instead of used to plant food). The teacher just scowled even more. Maybe she finally noticed my nakedness. After that, class was dismissed. I didn't get any points for my answer.
And then I woke up. With a headache.
Monday, August 25, 2014
About cooking (which I don't do very often)
I don't know how many friends have been telling me that for them cooking is "fun", "therapeutic", "enjoyable", and other positive adjective. I don't really cook, even when I lived in the capital alone, I didn't really cook. I was too demotivated and just plain lazy. Plus it did feel everything was so expensive anyway. So I rather set my food budget daily than shopping for a whole week, and then cooking daily. I just couldn't do it, physically or financially.
But then this year I got to stay for a month in Holland with my partner. I wanted to introduce him to some Indonesian cooking that he'd never tasted before, so I cooked. Surprisingly, no one died and the food actually tasted good. I tried out several recipes that I got from my mum, tweaking them a bit to suit my taste (and partner's) better. I even cooked for a couple of friends and they liked the food too. It was pretty satisfying.
And then I went back home. At my parents' house (I moved back to my parents' house three years ago because of family issues and now it's almost impossible for me to leave. Long story.) my mum does all the cooking. I can, of course, cook for myself if I want to, but then who will eat her food? Not to mention the constant nagging when I decide to eat out with friends when she has already cooked something for that day. So, I opt for peace in the family and eat my mum's food every time she cooks.
On the rare occasion when my parents go out of town for days, I have the chance to cook for myself again. Now, I have been cooking for myself for the past week. I wouldn't use the word fun, therapeutic or enjoyable to describe my cooking experience, but there's a certain satisfaction when you can feed yourself with the food that you made from scratch. It doesn't even have to be complicated. Some simple pasta with veggies and tuna or just tomato sauce will suffice. But I get to appreciate my effort to cook.
For people who have been cooking since they're really really young, what I have written here may seem like a silly thing. Like, what's so special about cooking for yourself anyway? I've been doing it forever--kind of silliness. But I think I will continue to see cooking as a form of achievement, and not only for myself, but other people who cook. For someone who doesn't really cook, producing edible food for your survival is an achievement (because eating out here isn't too expensive, compared to, say, Holland or Australia). So, yeah, I think I want to continue to achieve more :)
But then this year I got to stay for a month in Holland with my partner. I wanted to introduce him to some Indonesian cooking that he'd never tasted before, so I cooked. Surprisingly, no one died and the food actually tasted good. I tried out several recipes that I got from my mum, tweaking them a bit to suit my taste (and partner's) better. I even cooked for a couple of friends and they liked the food too. It was pretty satisfying.
And then I went back home. At my parents' house (I moved back to my parents' house three years ago because of family issues and now it's almost impossible for me to leave. Long story.) my mum does all the cooking. I can, of course, cook for myself if I want to, but then who will eat her food? Not to mention the constant nagging when I decide to eat out with friends when she has already cooked something for that day. So, I opt for peace in the family and eat my mum's food every time she cooks.
On the rare occasion when my parents go out of town for days, I have the chance to cook for myself again. Now, I have been cooking for myself for the past week. I wouldn't use the word fun, therapeutic or enjoyable to describe my cooking experience, but there's a certain satisfaction when you can feed yourself with the food that you made from scratch. It doesn't even have to be complicated. Some simple pasta with veggies and tuna or just tomato sauce will suffice. But I get to appreciate my effort to cook.
For people who have been cooking since they're really really young, what I have written here may seem like a silly thing. Like, what's so special about cooking for yourself anyway? I've been doing it forever--kind of silliness. But I think I will continue to see cooking as a form of achievement, and not only for myself, but other people who cook. For someone who doesn't really cook, producing edible food for your survival is an achievement (because eating out here isn't too expensive, compared to, say, Holland or Australia). So, yeah, I think I want to continue to achieve more :)
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Dream Journal--01
I've been having bad dreams for a while--years--that I can't seem to remember that there's a time when I didn't have bad dreams when I slept. These dreams have a degree of horribleness, starting from just slightly weird and terrorising to a full-scale mind-blowing gore and blood festival. Some of my dreams were really really disturbing I don't even share them with anyone.
These dreams can be very lucid, like watching a movie in my head--well, a really weird movie. When this happens, I can always retell the whole thing. But sometimes the dreams will only be remembered as fragments, and unfortunately still leave a bad aftertaste in my mouth. The aftertaste usually affects me for a bit while, especially if the dream is particularly depressing.
I've been having very lucid dreams for the past two days. And very disturbing too. There's a recurring theme in my dreams lately: about guilt and failure. For some reasons, I am plagued by these two feelings subconsciously and they penetrate my mind when I sleep. A couple of days ago, I had a nasty dream.
The dream:
I was with several other people, stuck in a high building, trying to cross over to the opposite building. We were told that it's impossible to do that because it's forbidden to cross the glass walkway. Underneath the walkway was a huge murky pond. We somehow captured this person whom we thought had trapped all of us there. We tied him/her on a chair and started questioning him/her (this character kept on changing its appearance). I was the one who did most of the questioning, yelling at it for some unknown reasons. I thought I had managed to make this person confess and tell us how to get out from this when I looked to the opposite building and saw my "friends" were on the balcony cheering me on. I was glad to see them there but as I went back to face the dubious characters tied to the chair, he/she said, "Are you sure that you are seeing what's true or just what you want to see? Look closely, again. Look at the pond again."
I went to one of the windows and looked at the pond on the massive garden down there. I could see the glass surface reflecting the sole lamp on the garden. All of the sudden I saw someone running really fast on the glass surface, and just seconds after the person started to run, the glass surface broke open and the person fell into the pond. And as fast as it broke open, the glass flapped back out and everything looked normal again. There wasn't any sign of that person. The water's surface didn't break. It was very still.
I gasped and somehow realised that it meant all of my friends had died trying to cross that surface. I turned to face the bounded person again. And she/he was not there anymore. The people I was with minutes before were gone, and there were only four of us left in the dark room. I finally recognised one of the three other people. He was a friend from university. He's a good friend, but I have no idea why I would dream about him. The four of us knew we were done; that we had lost the game and that we wouldn't survive this...whatever this was. I shouted, "I love you guys and I'm glad you are my friends. And I'm sorry we can't survive this." The other three people said the same thing and then we hugged each other. The once bounded person appeared in front of us, and grabbed a chair. She was going to break all of the window panes above our heads.
When she broke the first window, one of my friend disappeared. And then she broke another one, and in a second the other friend disappeared. I was still hugging the last friend standing when she broke the third window pane and just like that, I was alone. I knew I wouldn't win and I didn't have any trick up my sleeves. So I stood there bracing what's inevitable. Instead of immediately breaking the last window pane, she stood to face me and said, "For you...for you I will make it special. You will live in darkness and solitude forever." And with that, she disappeared and everything went dark.
I woke up.
These dreams can be very lucid, like watching a movie in my head--well, a really weird movie. When this happens, I can always retell the whole thing. But sometimes the dreams will only be remembered as fragments, and unfortunately still leave a bad aftertaste in my mouth. The aftertaste usually affects me for a bit while, especially if the dream is particularly depressing.
I've been having very lucid dreams for the past two days. And very disturbing too. There's a recurring theme in my dreams lately: about guilt and failure. For some reasons, I am plagued by these two feelings subconsciously and they penetrate my mind when I sleep. A couple of days ago, I had a nasty dream.
The dream:
I was with several other people, stuck in a high building, trying to cross over to the opposite building. We were told that it's impossible to do that because it's forbidden to cross the glass walkway. Underneath the walkway was a huge murky pond. We somehow captured this person whom we thought had trapped all of us there. We tied him/her on a chair and started questioning him/her (this character kept on changing its appearance). I was the one who did most of the questioning, yelling at it for some unknown reasons. I thought I had managed to make this person confess and tell us how to get out from this when I looked to the opposite building and saw my "friends" were on the balcony cheering me on. I was glad to see them there but as I went back to face the dubious characters tied to the chair, he/she said, "Are you sure that you are seeing what's true or just what you want to see? Look closely, again. Look at the pond again."
I went to one of the windows and looked at the pond on the massive garden down there. I could see the glass surface reflecting the sole lamp on the garden. All of the sudden I saw someone running really fast on the glass surface, and just seconds after the person started to run, the glass surface broke open and the person fell into the pond. And as fast as it broke open, the glass flapped back out and everything looked normal again. There wasn't any sign of that person. The water's surface didn't break. It was very still.
I gasped and somehow realised that it meant all of my friends had died trying to cross that surface. I turned to face the bounded person again. And she/he was not there anymore. The people I was with minutes before were gone, and there were only four of us left in the dark room. I finally recognised one of the three other people. He was a friend from university. He's a good friend, but I have no idea why I would dream about him. The four of us knew we were done; that we had lost the game and that we wouldn't survive this...whatever this was. I shouted, "I love you guys and I'm glad you are my friends. And I'm sorry we can't survive this." The other three people said the same thing and then we hugged each other. The once bounded person appeared in front of us, and grabbed a chair. She was going to break all of the window panes above our heads.
When she broke the first window, one of my friend disappeared. And then she broke another one, and in a second the other friend disappeared. I was still hugging the last friend standing when she broke the third window pane and just like that, I was alone. I knew I wouldn't win and I didn't have any trick up my sleeves. So I stood there bracing what's inevitable. Instead of immediately breaking the last window pane, she stood to face me and said, "For you...for you I will make it special. You will live in darkness and solitude forever." And with that, she disappeared and everything went dark.
I woke up.
Quick reflection
Loneliness eats you if you let it. It will tear you slowly, creating thoughts that shake your confidence. You will tell yourself that you're fine and coping, but you still have doubts. They are like poison. It makes you feel sick in the gut.
The questions are: how can you stop it eating you alive? How can you stop bad thought creeping into your awareness and create insecurities that you don't need?
I guess you need to be brave. Sort of.
The questions are: how can you stop it eating you alive? How can you stop bad thought creeping into your awareness and create insecurities that you don't need?
I guess you need to be brave. Sort of.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
The end of happy week
Maintaining a positive energy when your body is not wired properly because of different reasons, and hormone is one of them, is really tough. I have been keeping track on my mood, trying to record how it goes on a weekly basis. It's been a good past week (proud of myself), but today feels like the first day of anxiety and bad mood again. My period is coming soon.
The bad mood or negative feelings sometimes can materialise into physical pain. At the moment, I am having massive headache and feeling tired all over although I haven't done much. Even though I have tried to ignore the negative feelings, I am still grumpy and irritable because of the physical pain. Unfortunately, I will also lose patience rapidly when I am in this kind of state, both with myself and other people.
Often I read that you need to concentrate on being positive and then you would feel better (or something like that). Some said meditation helps and there's a breathing technique to calm yourself. My question is how can you stay positive when your body doesn't even feel good? And nothing really helps. Food, tea, water, chocolate, nothing really works for me. So my preference is: sitting on my bed, either reading or binge movie-watching. Anything to distract the mind. And maybe try to nap for a bit. Or write a stupid blog post.
It's good to have a mental calendar of your mood, I found. I can tell that I am making progress in controlling inexplicable sadness and anxiety when I see the number of days I have been feeling good or positive. The more happy days, the better my control of my weird mood is. Although on a day like today, I feel I just want to throw the towel and shut down. It's very easy for mind to repeat this one thought: I am so tired, I just want to stop.
Kinda wish there's a fast forward button.
The bad mood or negative feelings sometimes can materialise into physical pain. At the moment, I am having massive headache and feeling tired all over although I haven't done much. Even though I have tried to ignore the negative feelings, I am still grumpy and irritable because of the physical pain. Unfortunately, I will also lose patience rapidly when I am in this kind of state, both with myself and other people.
Often I read that you need to concentrate on being positive and then you would feel better (or something like that). Some said meditation helps and there's a breathing technique to calm yourself. My question is how can you stay positive when your body doesn't even feel good? And nothing really helps. Food, tea, water, chocolate, nothing really works for me. So my preference is: sitting on my bed, either reading or binge movie-watching. Anything to distract the mind. And maybe try to nap for a bit. Or write a stupid blog post.
It's good to have a mental calendar of your mood, I found. I can tell that I am making progress in controlling inexplicable sadness and anxiety when I see the number of days I have been feeling good or positive. The more happy days, the better my control of my weird mood is. Although on a day like today, I feel I just want to throw the towel and shut down. It's very easy for mind to repeat this one thought: I am so tired, I just want to stop.
Kinda wish there's a fast forward button.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
I've got me under my skin
This month started pretty roughly. I have accepted a project that turns out just a bit too difficult for me; challenging yes, but crazy hard. I also have been experiencing bad mood swings and some sort of depression, all hormones related. Added to the mix, I have my family (in full formation with one new additional member, aka the baby nephew) at my parents' house. It's like living in a mad house sometimes.
Do you know the cliche "you feel alone in the crowd" or something similar to that? I think basically we just realise no matter how crowded our life is, eventually you're going to be alone. Alone as in you can only depend on yourself. You don't depend on other people because when you do that you start forming expectations and hopes, and hey you know what, you aren't entitled to those things, no matter how hard you want to believe that you are. When you rely on yourself, you only have you. The worst thing is you will get disappointed by you. Although when you are trapped in a cycle of self-hate, it's a bit tough to forgive yourself and move on. But that's necessary. You are going to live with yourself for the rest of your life.
One of my friends recently just told me how unhappy he was when he was single and how grateful he is now for his girlfriend. I congratulated him for his happiness and also told him that being single wasn't that bad for me. He frowned and asked, "Like how it wasn't bad?" I told him it's about the independence and the process to be okay with oneself. And how you can learn a lot just from compromising your life to singleness. Yes, it's lonely sometimes, but that's why you have cats. He laughed and told me I was going to be a crazy cat lady, if I am not now. I took it as a compliment.
Sometimes I forget how to be with myself when I'm with someone. Sometimes security provided by other people: family, friends, lovers, make you feel you can lower your guard a bit and relax. But reality is never that kind. I know now that it doesn't really work that way, because that means I'm taking things for granted and forgetting my own abilities to survive. I need the occasional slap on the cheek so I'll be awake.
I got the slap and now I'm awake. Time to go back to work.
Do you know the cliche "you feel alone in the crowd" or something similar to that? I think basically we just realise no matter how crowded our life is, eventually you're going to be alone. Alone as in you can only depend on yourself. You don't depend on other people because when you do that you start forming expectations and hopes, and hey you know what, you aren't entitled to those things, no matter how hard you want to believe that you are. When you rely on yourself, you only have you. The worst thing is you will get disappointed by you. Although when you are trapped in a cycle of self-hate, it's a bit tough to forgive yourself and move on. But that's necessary. You are going to live with yourself for the rest of your life.
One of my friends recently just told me how unhappy he was when he was single and how grateful he is now for his girlfriend. I congratulated him for his happiness and also told him that being single wasn't that bad for me. He frowned and asked, "Like how it wasn't bad?" I told him it's about the independence and the process to be okay with oneself. And how you can learn a lot just from compromising your life to singleness. Yes, it's lonely sometimes, but that's why you have cats. He laughed and told me I was going to be a crazy cat lady, if I am not now. I took it as a compliment.
Sometimes I forget how to be with myself when I'm with someone. Sometimes security provided by other people: family, friends, lovers, make you feel you can lower your guard a bit and relax. But reality is never that kind. I know now that it doesn't really work that way, because that means I'm taking things for granted and forgetting my own abilities to survive. I need the occasional slap on the cheek so I'll be awake.
I got the slap and now I'm awake. Time to go back to work.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
PMDD or that-time-when-you-get-so-depressed-and-anxious-you-just-want-to-kill-yourself-first-thing-in-the-morning
I have been wanting to write this post but kept on postponing it until today. I wanted to write about PMDD or Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (the word premenstrual should give you an idea) or that-time-when-you-get-so-depressed-and-anxious-you-just-want-to-kill-yourself-first-thing-in-the-morning. Never heard of it before? Well, I just found out about it myself a couple of months ago, when I again fell into depression just days before I had my period and had a terrible argument with my partner about it. I tried to explain about PMS so I looked up on the Internet and found out about PMDD. When I read the descriptions, I realised that it's the very thing that has been damning me for my entire adult life.
I remembered the symptoms weren't so bad when I was younger, but they got more severe in the past years. Obviously, different factors are involved because the hormones that drive you to insanity or depression are affected by external factors, such as diet. But anyway, the symptoms were less severe before, they were barely noticeable, and now they are in full swing, ready to bitch-slap you into the pit of dark depression.
In the articles that I read about PMDD, it always involves a subject about "how to live with someone with PMDD" because to be really honest, people who are close to people with PMDD will definitely get affected. In this case, it's my partner. My solution, so far, is to always communicate every changes that I feel in my moods and feelings. It kinda sounds stupid, but at least it gives some kind of a warning to my partner that it is approaching--this crazy tsunami of depression is now close and going to drawn me in a matter of days. That doesn't mean he won't get hurt by the nasty things that I (might) say to him when I am drowning. It requires a lot of work, from both sides to make things work. Not only my partner needs to understand that it's not something I can control, but I also need to be able to cope with my depression in a positive light. It's hard to get out of the depression when I realise that I have hurt the person who cares a lot about me.
I have read several people said that it's like a demon, an alien part of oneself, who comes out every once a month destroying every bit of your sanity and then leave when it's done and satisfied. I used to see it that way, but somehow it stopped making me feel better. Instead, now I see it as, like I have mentioned before, a tsunami. I can see (well, "see" as in check the calendar) it coming--good thing that I have a reliable menstrual cycle--and prepare for it. Also, prepare my partner by giving him lots and lots of warning. And then, prepare myself to swim and dive if necessary because there's just no other way around it. I can't stop it, I can't run away from it. When it hits me, it hits me hard. It is also painful for me (not to mention the real actual physical pain of PMS) to be depressed for most of the time, becoming very lethargic and losing appetite and weight and just generally feeling sad all the bloody time without any good reason.
Some people will laugh about this (one friend actually did and told me that we, modern people, tend to "pathologise" every single problem that we have--well, fuck him). Some people will just shrug and dismiss this as a "women's thing". The problem is, I don't want this shit and I bet other women with PMDD don't want this happening in their life because I am not having fun, at all. And no, it's not fun to be angry all the time either.
What kind of moral conclusion I can draw from this post? I guess it's always good to try and understand things from different perspectives because in my case, by trying to understand my partner's perspective and feelings, I can be more positive, and vice versa.
p.s. you can read more about PMDD from this blog.
I remembered the symptoms weren't so bad when I was younger, but they got more severe in the past years. Obviously, different factors are involved because the hormones that drive you to insanity or depression are affected by external factors, such as diet. But anyway, the symptoms were less severe before, they were barely noticeable, and now they are in full swing, ready to bitch-slap you into the pit of dark depression.
In the articles that I read about PMDD, it always involves a subject about "how to live with someone with PMDD" because to be really honest, people who are close to people with PMDD will definitely get affected. In this case, it's my partner. My solution, so far, is to always communicate every changes that I feel in my moods and feelings. It kinda sounds stupid, but at least it gives some kind of a warning to my partner that it is approaching--this crazy tsunami of depression is now close and going to drawn me in a matter of days. That doesn't mean he won't get hurt by the nasty things that I (might) say to him when I am drowning. It requires a lot of work, from both sides to make things work. Not only my partner needs to understand that it's not something I can control, but I also need to be able to cope with my depression in a positive light. It's hard to get out of the depression when I realise that I have hurt the person who cares a lot about me.
I have read several people said that it's like a demon, an alien part of oneself, who comes out every once a month destroying every bit of your sanity and then leave when it's done and satisfied. I used to see it that way, but somehow it stopped making me feel better. Instead, now I see it as, like I have mentioned before, a tsunami. I can see (well, "see" as in check the calendar) it coming--good thing that I have a reliable menstrual cycle--and prepare for it. Also, prepare my partner by giving him lots and lots of warning. And then, prepare myself to swim and dive if necessary because there's just no other way around it. I can't stop it, I can't run away from it. When it hits me, it hits me hard. It is also painful for me (not to mention the real actual physical pain of PMS) to be depressed for most of the time, becoming very lethargic and losing appetite and weight and just generally feeling sad all the bloody time without any good reason.
Some people will laugh about this (one friend actually did and told me that we, modern people, tend to "pathologise" every single problem that we have--well, fuck him). Some people will just shrug and dismiss this as a "women's thing". The problem is, I don't want this shit and I bet other women with PMDD don't want this happening in their life because I am not having fun, at all. And no, it's not fun to be angry all the time either.
What kind of moral conclusion I can draw from this post? I guess it's always good to try and understand things from different perspectives because in my case, by trying to understand my partner's perspective and feelings, I can be more positive, and vice versa.
p.s. you can read more about PMDD from this blog.
Monday, May 26, 2014
When did sleeping get so difficult?
On a morning like this morning, I wonder do I ever wake up and feel refreshed? Feeling like I actually have enough sleep? I haven't felt that for a while. I read or heard somewhere that you don't sleep well when you are slightly depressed. It makes sense, of course, when your mind is too preoccupied by either good or bad thoughts, your sleep is going to be weird.
I have a gazillion things in my head. Maybe these things stop me from having a good night sleep. I don't quite know how to stop them though. I tried to be fully relaxed before I went to bed anyway, but that didn't really work.
I woke up with a headache and clogged nose, an early sign of minor cold. I have been feeling unwell for the past 3-4 days and today my body didn't want to wake up. I felt I should have at least tried to get up and start working, but my brain was dead (it still sort of is dead now) and decided to engage in Facebook world instead. And that led me to here.
I don't have anything important or interesting to say other than: I miss that time when I woke up and actually felt I had slept enough and the world was a better place.
And my nightmares are so regular, I don't even call them nightmares anymore. They're just part of my sleeping pattern.
Anyone have a good suggestion for a good night sleep? Feel free.
I have a gazillion things in my head. Maybe these things stop me from having a good night sleep. I don't quite know how to stop them though. I tried to be fully relaxed before I went to bed anyway, but that didn't really work.
I woke up with a headache and clogged nose, an early sign of minor cold. I have been feeling unwell for the past 3-4 days and today my body didn't want to wake up. I felt I should have at least tried to get up and start working, but my brain was dead (it still sort of is dead now) and decided to engage in Facebook world instead. And that led me to here.
I don't have anything important or interesting to say other than: I miss that time when I woke up and actually felt I had slept enough and the world was a better place.
And my nightmares are so regular, I don't even call them nightmares anymore. They're just part of my sleeping pattern.
Anyone have a good suggestion for a good night sleep? Feel free.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
The peculiar case of Peculiar
One morning I was still quite tired since I didn't sleep well when lots of noises woke me up. I remembered that it was the moving guys, loading my sister's stuff up on a truck, to be delivered to her new house, somewhere in filthy Jakarta. So, I got up, thinking my cats would be in the way of the moving guys, since they liked to find ways to go out of the house. I put two cats in my room and the other one went hiding since he hated strangers.
After a while, the moving guys were done. The truck was packed and ready to go. My dad asked me to wait by the front door because he needed to move the car away. So I did. Then, I saw two kids, one on a bicycle and the other on foot, heading towards the truck. One kid, who wasn't on a bike, was carrying something in his hand. That something was wriggling. That something was a tiny kitten. I was surprised, especially because the kid turned to a small alley in front of my house where a stream flow nearby. I honestly thought the kid would have thrown the kitten into the stream. I was ready to run.
But, two seconds after the kid went out of the alley, the kitten followed suit. I was relieved and still ran anyway, since the truck was still nearby and I didn't want it to get squashed. I grabbed it to safety and saw that it's really tiny and weak. Its body temperature was kinda low too. Not good. I put it on a corner and tried to feed it milk, but it didn't want to drink. It was probably to young to drink by itself. So, I put it into a carrier and make sure it's safe. My mother, noticing the little creature, immediately expressed contempt. She didn't want a dirty little thing, she said. I told her that I was going to take care of it, regardless. My father soon showed the same reaction, with a more hurtful comment. I would not repeat it here. It was just a tiny kitten. Why would anyone be mean to it, I don't really understand.
Luckily, my parents had to leave to Jakarta to help my sister. I immediately took the kitten inside and tried harder to feed it. I cleaned it and tried to make a warm nest for it to sleep. The other cats were curious but I kept them away from it, since I didn't want to risk any transfer of viruses or fleas. The other cats sulked, the kitten mewed.
I spent the whole day just trying to keep it alive. I couldn't go and find a kitten milk replacement because I didn't want to leave him alone. I didn't want to risk it taking it in the car and get trapped in silly traffic jam. I was talking to my boyfriend on Skype the whole time, panicking and feeling so helpless. He did his best to comfort me, but the kitten wasn't doing well. I finally took it to the vet when the traffic eased a bit. It's a he, and he got several shots and the vet told me to give him worm meds. I got some soft cat food too. And then I spent the whole night just trying to feed him. That didn't work well because he was vomiting. I thought he's going to die. I didn't really sleep that night.
In the morning, after I slept only for 2 hours, I woke up finding Peculiar (my boyfriend named him) still breathing. I decided I wouldn't be able to take care of him by myself and he needed better attention and care. So, I took him back to the clinic and hospitalised him.
Peculiar is still at the clinic now, recuperating. Last time I saw him, he was a bit weak but really playful and noisy. I took that as a good sign. Peculiar the kitten, with his peculiar origin, taught me more about humans; how we are capable of so much love and how we are capable of so much contempt. Again, like what I have written before, it's a matter of choice. We sometimes choose to be blind about different things just because it's easy. But it hampers our full potential to love. When you are blinded by yourself, you are not capable to express anything truthfully. I learnt that it's okay to care, no matter how difficult it is to care and along the way, I found other human beings who were wiling to help and support me. I also found other people who had selective affection; reserved only for pretty things.
Peculiar might be just a tiny orphan kitten, but he has a big place in my heart. I just hope, even the worst comes to worst and he dies, I just hope he dies knowing that he was loved and cared, and that he wasn't alone.
After a while, the moving guys were done. The truck was packed and ready to go. My dad asked me to wait by the front door because he needed to move the car away. So I did. Then, I saw two kids, one on a bicycle and the other on foot, heading towards the truck. One kid, who wasn't on a bike, was carrying something in his hand. That something was wriggling. That something was a tiny kitten. I was surprised, especially because the kid turned to a small alley in front of my house where a stream flow nearby. I honestly thought the kid would have thrown the kitten into the stream. I was ready to run.
But, two seconds after the kid went out of the alley, the kitten followed suit. I was relieved and still ran anyway, since the truck was still nearby and I didn't want it to get squashed. I grabbed it to safety and saw that it's really tiny and weak. Its body temperature was kinda low too. Not good. I put it on a corner and tried to feed it milk, but it didn't want to drink. It was probably to young to drink by itself. So, I put it into a carrier and make sure it's safe. My mother, noticing the little creature, immediately expressed contempt. She didn't want a dirty little thing, she said. I told her that I was going to take care of it, regardless. My father soon showed the same reaction, with a more hurtful comment. I would not repeat it here. It was just a tiny kitten. Why would anyone be mean to it, I don't really understand.
Luckily, my parents had to leave to Jakarta to help my sister. I immediately took the kitten inside and tried harder to feed it. I cleaned it and tried to make a warm nest for it to sleep. The other cats were curious but I kept them away from it, since I didn't want to risk any transfer of viruses or fleas. The other cats sulked, the kitten mewed.
I spent the whole day just trying to keep it alive. I couldn't go and find a kitten milk replacement because I didn't want to leave him alone. I didn't want to risk it taking it in the car and get trapped in silly traffic jam. I was talking to my boyfriend on Skype the whole time, panicking and feeling so helpless. He did his best to comfort me, but the kitten wasn't doing well. I finally took it to the vet when the traffic eased a bit. It's a he, and he got several shots and the vet told me to give him worm meds. I got some soft cat food too. And then I spent the whole night just trying to feed him. That didn't work well because he was vomiting. I thought he's going to die. I didn't really sleep that night.
In the morning, after I slept only for 2 hours, I woke up finding Peculiar (my boyfriend named him) still breathing. I decided I wouldn't be able to take care of him by myself and he needed better attention and care. So, I took him back to the clinic and hospitalised him.
Peculiar is still at the clinic now, recuperating. Last time I saw him, he was a bit weak but really playful and noisy. I took that as a good sign. Peculiar the kitten, with his peculiar origin, taught me more about humans; how we are capable of so much love and how we are capable of so much contempt. Again, like what I have written before, it's a matter of choice. We sometimes choose to be blind about different things just because it's easy. But it hampers our full potential to love. When you are blinded by yourself, you are not capable to express anything truthfully. I learnt that it's okay to care, no matter how difficult it is to care and along the way, I found other human beings who were wiling to help and support me. I also found other people who had selective affection; reserved only for pretty things.
Friday, March 21, 2014
A letter to the tiny lump
Dear tiny lump in my right breast,
I sincerely hope you're just one of those weird lumps that sometimes ache but not really going to hurt my body in a horrible-mutated-cancerous way. I hope you are just the kind of lump that needs some care and attention and then you will get better after I give you some love. I really don't want to force you out of my breast because that will be sad. I also don't want you to grow bigger because that will be bad.
I just want you to stay where you are, or if you can just dissolve nicely and harmless, that will be amazing. It will be even better if it turns out you're just a gland, like other glands in my breasts. Maybe you're just a bit different. Maybe you're just a bit lonely.
Anyway, my dear tiny lump, I hope we can have a good relationship that doesn't require anyone to get sedated and go under a surgeon's knife. Especially not in this country.
Sincerely yours,
Me
I sincerely hope you're just one of those weird lumps that sometimes ache but not really going to hurt my body in a horrible-mutated-cancerous way. I hope you are just the kind of lump that needs some care and attention and then you will get better after I give you some love. I really don't want to force you out of my breast because that will be sad. I also don't want you to grow bigger because that will be bad.
I just want you to stay where you are, or if you can just dissolve nicely and harmless, that will be amazing. It will be even better if it turns out you're just a gland, like other glands in my breasts. Maybe you're just a bit different. Maybe you're just a bit lonely.
Anyway, my dear tiny lump, I hope we can have a good relationship that doesn't require anyone to get sedated and go under a surgeon's knife. Especially not in this country.
Sincerely yours,
Me
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
A wake up call
In the attempt of a badly needed self-reflection upon receiving an ultimatum for my bad behaviours, a good (and damn smart) friend reminded me about claiming responsibility towards one's happiness. This a thing that I often forget when I am in a relationship and it's a bit embarrassing that I needed an ultimatum first before I started to get my shit together.
It's so easy to fall into the trap of "dependency", or maybe it's just easy for me to fall into that pit. The conversation with said friend then went to the details of my failures so far, and grating as they might be to my ego, these were all true. I fail claiming responsibility for my own happiness by thinking I could now rely on this relationship. The trap is that I felt like it's due time for me to relax a bit; I didn't have to work so hard to stay strong and to continue fight for things that I wanted; I thought now that I had a partner, I could just lean onto him for a bit. Bad move. Because it has spoilt me, lulling me to think that I could ask for attention and care every time I need it. Because it has made me feel that I didn't have to try by myself to make me feel less lonely when I do feel lonely. Or sad.
Although it's a bit contradictory, like my friend said, to make ourselves happy and be independent when we have a partner in life, it is true. That's the right thing to do: maintaining independence and knowing how you can be happy with or without your partner. Relying your happiness on someone else, although this person really loves you, is never a good thing because it means your partner is going to be the centre of your life and it's going to cripple you when you don't have this person for whatever reasons in the future. And this is a thing that I should have realised sooner because I have had these problems in the past. And this is a thing that you would read in any "relationship for dummies" books or articles. Big d'oh for myself.
I also forgot one important thing. I decided I wanted to be with my boyfriend now because I think he's a great person and I admire his qualities and he makes me happy, not because I need him to make me happy. Silly me. Mental slap.
Next, self-pity and self-hate. I agree with my friend when she said it's just an easy thing to do. It is. And I think I have said similar things to other friends when they are wallowing in self-pity and self-hate. It IS easier to say things than do them, no? Changing or improving yourself for the better is the difficult thing to do because it needs a process. Self-pity and self-hate is like instant reactions for me. I don't even need to try. It's like drugs, addictive and harmful. And it will make your brain stop working properly.
I realise I have been unhappy for a long time for different reasons. I carry quite a lot of baggages that I'm slowly (painfully) managing. Forgiving and not forgetting (because I don't really forget), just stopping it from affecting me. This is also another thing that is definitely easier to say than do. But I think it's about damn time I stop feeling so resentful about myself and one thing to do is to claim responsibility. I need to be okay with myself although sometimes I just don't like me too much: embracing my own horrible side, which might be not so horrible after all when perceived with a new set of glasses. After all, no one is perfect. Everyone comes with their own wounds.
I don't really make resolutions and it's a bit too late to call it a New Year's resolution, but if I ever made one, all these things are on top of my list. It's time to quit the drugs. It's time to get sober. I wish myself luck.
p.s. I'm really grateful for having amazing friends in my life who are never shy to tell me what they think about me and help me in ways that I would never expect. I am also really grateful that I have such an honest partner that helps me learn about myself better.
It's so easy to fall into the trap of "dependency", or maybe it's just easy for me to fall into that pit. The conversation with said friend then went to the details of my failures so far, and grating as they might be to my ego, these were all true. I fail claiming responsibility for my own happiness by thinking I could now rely on this relationship. The trap is that I felt like it's due time for me to relax a bit; I didn't have to work so hard to stay strong and to continue fight for things that I wanted; I thought now that I had a partner, I could just lean onto him for a bit. Bad move. Because it has spoilt me, lulling me to think that I could ask for attention and care every time I need it. Because it has made me feel that I didn't have to try by myself to make me feel less lonely when I do feel lonely. Or sad.
Although it's a bit contradictory, like my friend said, to make ourselves happy and be independent when we have a partner in life, it is true. That's the right thing to do: maintaining independence and knowing how you can be happy with or without your partner. Relying your happiness on someone else, although this person really loves you, is never a good thing because it means your partner is going to be the centre of your life and it's going to cripple you when you don't have this person for whatever reasons in the future. And this is a thing that I should have realised sooner because I have had these problems in the past. And this is a thing that you would read in any "relationship for dummies" books or articles. Big d'oh for myself.
I also forgot one important thing. I decided I wanted to be with my boyfriend now because I think he's a great person and I admire his qualities and he makes me happy, not because I need him to make me happy. Silly me. Mental slap.
Next, self-pity and self-hate. I agree with my friend when she said it's just an easy thing to do. It is. And I think I have said similar things to other friends when they are wallowing in self-pity and self-hate. It IS easier to say things than do them, no? Changing or improving yourself for the better is the difficult thing to do because it needs a process. Self-pity and self-hate is like instant reactions for me. I don't even need to try. It's like drugs, addictive and harmful. And it will make your brain stop working properly.
I realise I have been unhappy for a long time for different reasons. I carry quite a lot of baggages that I'm slowly (painfully) managing. Forgiving and not forgetting (because I don't really forget), just stopping it from affecting me. This is also another thing that is definitely easier to say than do. But I think it's about damn time I stop feeling so resentful about myself and one thing to do is to claim responsibility. I need to be okay with myself although sometimes I just don't like me too much: embracing my own horrible side, which might be not so horrible after all when perceived with a new set of glasses. After all, no one is perfect. Everyone comes with their own wounds.
I don't really make resolutions and it's a bit too late to call it a New Year's resolution, but if I ever made one, all these things are on top of my list. It's time to quit the drugs. It's time to get sober. I wish myself luck.
p.s. I'm really grateful for having amazing friends in my life who are never shy to tell me what they think about me and help me in ways that I would never expect. I am also really grateful that I have such an honest partner that helps me learn about myself better.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Another round of self-loathing cycle
I have just recently found a more-or-less correct metaphor for my depression a.k.a self-loathing cycle. It's like this: imagine you have lots of pipes in your mind. Each carries a different stream, some are happy stream of thoughts, other are poisonous negative ones. The thing about these pipes are I don't know where the valves or ends are. Sometimes the happy stream of thoughts will just burst on one end, and fill my head with amazing optimistic thoughts. Sometimes other pipes send different streams of thoughts and so on.
There's one pipe, special for self-loathing and low self-esteem that leaks. I think it started leaking when I moved to Jakarta. That place sort of corroded my brain for different reasons. Or maybe it had started to crack long time ago, but I just didn't realise it. Anyway, this particular pipe always leaks. So imagine my mind is like a big bucket. It can be filled with different things. Generally, what's inside the bucket is quite neutral, not amazingly happy but not amazingly sad. Now, this dumb leaking pipe will always let some of its content drip down into my mind bucket, sort of tarnishing it bits by bits. When I'm depressed, the stream of bad thoughts will surge into this one leaky pipe causing the content to fall into the mind bucket in larger quantity. And slowly but sure, my mind is corrupted by these bad thoughts. Sometimes the pipe will burst and I will get dragged down to my own bad thoughts and sometimes, it will take me weeks to recover.
So, basically I'm generally not a happy sort of person. I don't go out in the morning and think to myself how wonderful the world is, for instance. I get frustrated so easily. I get annoyed by people a lot. I'm generally the kind of person that you don't want to meet when you have low confidence in humanity because I will crush what's left of your hope. Although to be fair, I am not evil, as in Hitler-evil for instance. I don't abuse people because I think it's great fun. I abuse myself emotionally but by doing that I realise that I abuse other people who care and love me.
However, there have been times when the pipe where all good thoughts and rainbows and kittens and ponies and leprechauns and mermaids and dolphins swim burst on one end and I'd be ecstatic. My mind bucket would full of these wonderful things and I would be smiling a lot. I'd also be able to enjoy things better.
This is not unique at all and I think this is just how humans operate in general. Some people are happier and more relaxed than others; some are more mellow and anxious. I know that everything in my mind should be manageable although often it doesn't feel like that at all. Often I'd just prefer to curl myself into a tiny ball and cry myself to sleep. Sometimes it makes me feel better. Sometimes it eliminates all good things that I have in life.
I know that hating or blaming myself constantly will not actually solve anything. It's so cliche and easy to say, but in practice when you are drowning in your own hatred for yourself, cliche easy things aren't so cliche and easy anymore. Which is why, it is important to have an emergency drain on your mind bucket. And writing my problems down on something permanent (internet) is my emergency drain. Who knows? Maybe someone will stumble upon this post and think it's helpful so they feel better about themselves, or shit and yet they feel better about themselves. It's really about making choices.
There's one pipe, special for self-loathing and low self-esteem that leaks. I think it started leaking when I moved to Jakarta. That place sort of corroded my brain for different reasons. Or maybe it had started to crack long time ago, but I just didn't realise it. Anyway, this particular pipe always leaks. So imagine my mind is like a big bucket. It can be filled with different things. Generally, what's inside the bucket is quite neutral, not amazingly happy but not amazingly sad. Now, this dumb leaking pipe will always let some of its content drip down into my mind bucket, sort of tarnishing it bits by bits. When I'm depressed, the stream of bad thoughts will surge into this one leaky pipe causing the content to fall into the mind bucket in larger quantity. And slowly but sure, my mind is corrupted by these bad thoughts. Sometimes the pipe will burst and I will get dragged down to my own bad thoughts and sometimes, it will take me weeks to recover.
So, basically I'm generally not a happy sort of person. I don't go out in the morning and think to myself how wonderful the world is, for instance. I get frustrated so easily. I get annoyed by people a lot. I'm generally the kind of person that you don't want to meet when you have low confidence in humanity because I will crush what's left of your hope. Although to be fair, I am not evil, as in Hitler-evil for instance. I don't abuse people because I think it's great fun. I abuse myself emotionally but by doing that I realise that I abuse other people who care and love me.
However, there have been times when the pipe where all good thoughts and rainbows and kittens and ponies and leprechauns and mermaids and dolphins swim burst on one end and I'd be ecstatic. My mind bucket would full of these wonderful things and I would be smiling a lot. I'd also be able to enjoy things better.
This is not unique at all and I think this is just how humans operate in general. Some people are happier and more relaxed than others; some are more mellow and anxious. I know that everything in my mind should be manageable although often it doesn't feel like that at all. Often I'd just prefer to curl myself into a tiny ball and cry myself to sleep. Sometimes it makes me feel better. Sometimes it eliminates all good things that I have in life.
I know that hating or blaming myself constantly will not actually solve anything. It's so cliche and easy to say, but in practice when you are drowning in your own hatred for yourself, cliche easy things aren't so cliche and easy anymore. Which is why, it is important to have an emergency drain on your mind bucket. And writing my problems down on something permanent (internet) is my emergency drain. Who knows? Maybe someone will stumble upon this post and think it's helpful so they feel better about themselves, or shit and yet they feel better about themselves. It's really about making choices.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
About anger
Do you ever get angry with the universe and everything? Just plain illogical dumb anger. You can't really explain why you are angry, or you can try and end up sounding like a 5-yo whose ice cream fell to the floor. Just lots of undecipherable noises.
I'm feeling like that now. So angry with so many different things. People are on my top list. I am so angry with people here, and often I'd thought to myself where did we go wrong? Why do most people end up being really ignorant and just dumb?
I'm angry with the situation and condition here. I'm angry seeing stupidity is growing like a plague, eating any intelligence left, leaving people like zombies. They live because they need to consume. Watch Walking Dead for a reference. I think the general population now is no different to the walkers in the series: mindless and greedy (or maybe not greedy, just insatiable, because they are essentially brain dead).
Sometimes when I rant about these kinds of things, some people (i.e. friend) would remind me that I should not get all worked up for no reason and that I needed to learn to accept things better. I guess that's true on some levels. But how far do we need to tolerate things? When do we say enough is enough?
But I guess it's better to get angry than to feel defeated.
I'm feeling like that now. So angry with so many different things. People are on my top list. I am so angry with people here, and often I'd thought to myself where did we go wrong? Why do most people end up being really ignorant and just dumb?
I'm angry with the situation and condition here. I'm angry seeing stupidity is growing like a plague, eating any intelligence left, leaving people like zombies. They live because they need to consume. Watch Walking Dead for a reference. I think the general population now is no different to the walkers in the series: mindless and greedy (or maybe not greedy, just insatiable, because they are essentially brain dead).
Sometimes when I rant about these kinds of things, some people (i.e. friend) would remind me that I should not get all worked up for no reason and that I needed to learn to accept things better. I guess that's true on some levels. But how far do we need to tolerate things? When do we say enough is enough?
But I guess it's better to get angry than to feel defeated.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
About (not) going back home
I have been travelling a lot these past two years, it almost feels like I'm making up the time when I'm not travelling. My decision to change the way I work, from a full-timer to a freelancer, really helps in terms of being super flexible and just not getting depressed with different demands from your employer.
I, sometimes, would feel that the place I visit was so amazing that I didn't want to go back to Indonesia. Or sometimes, I'd feel so out of place, I would be really excited about going back to a place that was more or less could be identified as "home." Obviously, these are all in the past. I've written a rather cheesy post about the new-found home. And this time, I'm having a new sort of feeling: I really don't want to go back.
Now, even thinking about going back to Indonesia gives me physical pain. It's not that I detest Indonesia and its people. I like how everything is crazy and chaotic and organic (unlike in Holland, for instance, where everything is so organized and neat and plastic-y) and how I would have to find my way through the wild puzzle of the hypocritical social life in this country. I had liked that. I'm just tired of it. It drains my energy and pretending is never my strong suit. I also realise that physical distance is necessary if I want to "mend" my broken head (not heart), and after being away from Indonesia for a month now, I know that as much as I love that place, I can't really live there anymore.
Which now leads to "holy-shit-life-sucks" part of the post. Obviously, coming from a third-world country (do they still use this ranking anyway? It's so dumb) to a first-world country means hassle. Just incredible hassle. It's hard for anyone to get the hell out of some shit hole just to get into a different kind of shit hole. It's rather amazing that way.
I guess you got to work hard to get what you really want in life. This time is a safe place with people who understand my language and don't get offended if I have an opinion. This time, it will be for something more permanent and worth every goddamned effort that I can muster.
So, wish me luck.
I, sometimes, would feel that the place I visit was so amazing that I didn't want to go back to Indonesia. Or sometimes, I'd feel so out of place, I would be really excited about going back to a place that was more or less could be identified as "home." Obviously, these are all in the past. I've written a rather cheesy post about the new-found home. And this time, I'm having a new sort of feeling: I really don't want to go back.
Now, even thinking about going back to Indonesia gives me physical pain. It's not that I detest Indonesia and its people. I like how everything is crazy and chaotic and organic (unlike in Holland, for instance, where everything is so organized and neat and plastic-y) and how I would have to find my way through the wild puzzle of the hypocritical social life in this country. I had liked that. I'm just tired of it. It drains my energy and pretending is never my strong suit. I also realise that physical distance is necessary if I want to "mend" my broken head (not heart), and after being away from Indonesia for a month now, I know that as much as I love that place, I can't really live there anymore.
Which now leads to "holy-shit-life-sucks" part of the post. Obviously, coming from a third-world country (do they still use this ranking anyway? It's so dumb) to a first-world country means hassle. Just incredible hassle. It's hard for anyone to get the hell out of some shit hole just to get into a different kind of shit hole. It's rather amazing that way.
I guess you got to work hard to get what you really want in life. This time is a safe place with people who understand my language and don't get offended if I have an opinion. This time, it will be for something more permanent and worth every goddamned effort that I can muster.
So, wish me luck.
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