Tis a crazy life

My mom had a stroke last Monday. My security blanket, the conviction that things are okay, and will stay okay, was pulled out under me. To say I fell hard on my bum and dazed...is an understatement.

Staying with her over three days, tending to her and basically be her buddy led me to think a lot of things. Of how it's not time yet. She's barely into her fifties. I'm only a third of my way through my twenties. I still want and need my mommy. I still want to be babied, to be a child, to be my mommy's girl. Thinking of her less than healthy made me run into the corridor to collect myself. I do not want to cry in front of her. Watching her cry broke my heart. I'd do anything to change reality. To make her alright. To make us alright.

Maybe I've not accepted the reality yet. She's not too bad, just weakness on one side, and needs a bit of help up and down the stairs. You have no idea how painful it feels to watch your mother eat, and listen to her say that swallowing is an effort. For a woman who loves her food...and for a woman who loves to gab, talking is an effort, too. I looked at my own left arm and leg, and wondered how it would be like to be tired of lifting them up after a few seconds. I felt a need to protect her so strong, and yet so helpless in face of fact. Suddenly I found myself being the one doctors talk to, nurses refer to, and mom and bro depend on for a daily routine. The responsibility felt so massive, and so sudden.

I hope my mom recovers soon, and back to her fierce, prideful self, in tip top condition and all.

In face of all this, with all these newfound responsibilities, anxieties and stress, I learnt there's only myself to depend on. Never did I think of relying on anyone else, but I let my guard down just this once, because I'm so tired, and I am so disappointed and betrayed. In playing good daughter, I also have to play good best friend. I have to understand so many people, so many angles. Empty promises made. Words tumble easily from mouths, but. But. What's the value of friendship? Nothing. Easily bartered away in knowing we'll always be understanding. That there will be time to make up. That I'm supposed to understand.

I understand. I'm not the one who's going to make my best friend happy forever.
I'm not the main star in a best friend's life.
In the scheme of things, what am I?
I dread to weigh the truth.

All I know is, tis just another empty promise, and I'm betrayed and disappointed. I expected too much, that is my mistake.

I would have understood even better had things been handled differently. Had no promises were made.

But such is life.

Move on, Puiyee. Sudah lah, lumrah hidup.

A prose for you

I don't know if I believe in the extravagant show of love. In the four months we've been going out, there were small exchanges of gifts, eating out, buying things...sharing and pooling money and belongings. I've never done any huge-effort-out-of-my-way thing for him (wrote him a poem, a song, - though maybe a prose counted? - went way beyond myself to make/get him something, etc), though I couldn't say the same about him. I know he's been so generous and so thoughtful to me.

I've yet to receive my first flower, though. *hint*
He couldn't afford to come to Malaysia with me, but he came to London with me, and we spent a few wonderful days together.

So, I believe that its not the 'showing' that matters, but the real thoughtfulness, the 'heart' and the effort the other person puts in without being asked to. And if a person meant it, you'll know. I've had no reasons for doubt and insecurity - I trust him. And he's never let me down. There's always regular contact. I usually know where he is, what he's doing, and how he's doing. And for that, I am gratefully reassured.

I know in that sense, I am blissfully happy. It's only been over a week that we're apart, and I have him on my mind a lot. Sometimes I end up grinning like a mental person in the middle of a public space. I compensated by shopping and buying things for him. I wondered if he'll eat durian. I thought of him when I'm eating some yummy food and wished he could try it too. I wanted to hold his hand and show him off - that's him, that my man. Sometimes those three words are right on my lips. I guess we're both playing the waiting game.

When we first went out, my heart was full of doubts. Someone told me that by the end of this year, if I didn't feel like I have fallen for him, I should walk away. I think I'm here to stay.

And I hope he knows this.

I am...

...feeling slightly neglected.

Life here felt exactly like I've wrapped it up and put it away, only to come back and unpack it...to find that people have moved on and are too busy for me.

I feel like I wanna fly back now.

:(

Homeward bound

Its 8pm now, and I've been on the go since 7am this morning. I'm airborne somewhere in the Middle East, dinner is about to be 'served', and another 7 hours before I land.

I fervently hope the boy is now safe and sound back in Sheffield (at least Meadowhall Interchange, as his bus is due to arrive at 8pm). We've spent three nights in London, and it was an amazing time - eating Malaysian food in Chinatown, going to the British Museum and dropping our jaws at mummies, watching the sun set on Tower Bridge, watching Phantom of the Opera on the absolute worst seats in the entire theatre. It was good.

And I can not be grateful enough, or affectionate enough towards the Boy at the moment. I wonder how and why, through all my ill-spirits and unkindness, that I deserve such a good-natured, humourous, thoughtful and lovely person. And I feel awfully bad that he's probably waited at the Victoria Coach Station for hours, bored, tired, sleepy and grumpy, for his bus that's not even due until I've
landed in Bahrain.

He is awesome. And 4 weeks til I see him again.

Now: Bahrain.

I've found the wettest toilets ever. Bahrain Airport female loo was invaded by women of I don't know where (I'd hazard a guess of somewhere in South Asia) with cloth covering their heads loosely, and them washing their faces and feet in the same toilet sink. It wasn't just wet, it was flooded. I forgot how disgusting wet toilets are. And I've forgotten how humid and warm night airs can be.

This is just a teaser of what is about to greet me when I step off the plane in KL. Hmm.

I've also met two Chinese Malaysians at the boarding gate: both works in Ridyadh as nurses. One immediately told me she's earning RM15 000 per month. Telling me maybe all those repression in the Middle East is a good thing, that the UK and the US is too free. The other seemed more wise, telling me it's not the money that mattered, even though many nurses came and went in Saudi Arabia because they could not tolerate the culture or society, they'd learn something and bring it away with them. Even a year out there would be good for anyone. I couldn't agree more though I've spent a year in one of the freer societies in the world and I doubt I can go to somewhere like the Middle East and ...fit in. I already feel slightly ill at ease, needing to put up pretenses and self-censor, something we all learn to do well; whispered, hushed conversations instead of open, frank discussions. If only the first nurse found out my boyfriend is an English lad and I've embraced the 'irresponsible' life...

Oh. I don't know, this homecoming is such a confusion for me. I wonder what the next four weeks will entail. We shall see.

Meanwhile, I've loved and hated London. The crowds. The impatience. The pushiness. The hecticness. The rush. The beauty despite its perpetual sounds and smells.

Thank you, Tim.