Please Be Mine, Again

 

artwork by (link: http://instagram.com/madampeanut) instagram.com/madampeanut

This was a post that I wrote a while ago, but this remains as part of me and will always be. This memory continues to haunt me and suffocate me in my sleep, and also the reason for me to keep fighting for myself. 

RK

@rkkaaay

“Your trauma made u stronger” No, my trauma made me traumatized, it made me weak, gave me sleepless nights and memory loss, it gave me feelings I’ve never wanted. I made myself stronger, by dragging myself out of a dark place and dealing with consequences that weren’t my fault.

* * * * *

I've been thinking for quite some time now. About all the things that took so many years to process, digest, and accept. 

The story of my past clings on to me like a shadow I have to drag with me wherever I go. It has no voice, but it's always there. 

To care and love for yourself is not always easy, especially when you tend to get clouded with your own self-judgment, and when you also have the tendency to self-sabotage. It's a constant battle of staying grounded and letting yourself drift away in those moments where you just don't have the energy to fight. How can darkness be so comfortable sometimes? 

I was too young when I first wrote about my experiences as a victim of molestation and sexual assault. I was naive and was still very much scarred from it all. I thought I knew what I was going through. When it happened, I had no one to talk to. I kept it to myself for years before I was able to write about it. Even my mom only found out through that blog. 

It has been 15 years since that posting, and yet here I am today to tell you why that part of my life still bothers me most. Although I am barely remembering the details of the occurrences, I believe it all happened from when I was 9 - 13. In the beginning, it seemed like a harmless, friendly gesture. Like how you'd come up to a little kid and pinch their cheeks because they're cute. Over time, it became uncomfortable. It's when his firm hand grabbed my tiny hand and placed it neatly on his lap. This became a habit of his. Years, my hands had been on his laps and way too close to his private part. He watched me turned into a teenager. I was going through puberty and my breasts were growing. I could never forget that afternoon, he went to my room to grope my breasts and locked me with his arms. I could never forget my scream that felt so quiet and deafening at the same time. I could never forget breaking down to my knees with so much rage and anger that I decided to hate myself for such a long time. 

I was so angry at myself when it wasn't my fault. I was so angry at God for making me go through such an awful period of my life. I constantly wanted to die. I did not want the body I had. I was fuelled with negativity that I stopped looking at the brighter side of things. I was wasteful of my own youth. 

On top of it all, I was full of fear.

Fear of intimacy, attention, and love. I wore layers of clothing just to hide my skin. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror because I hated my reflection. It's as if my body was the cause of it all. I ruined relationships that could've worked out because I couldn't give pieces of myself away. I said I had none. I said it didn't belong to me. A slight affection and intimacy could trigger everything for me. I was traumatised. 

I honestly thought that was it. Just this fear and trauma that kept haunting me, but what's worst was how it messed me up completely. Realising this, I felt fucked up. As much as I was afraid of intimacy, I craved it. There had been days when I would feel aroused and wanting to be touched but the major part of myself knows the moment anyone lays a finger on me, I'd probably freak out. I didn't even want to touch any part of my body unless I was taking a shower.

When I wanted to heal myself through self-care, self-love, and mindfulness - I thought it was enough to just work on my heart and brain. I thought it was enough that I could work on my mentality so I could see things with much clarity and good conscience. I forgot about what broke me in the first place. I forgot about the years of extreme trauma and fears. I thought it was my heartbreak that needed the healing that I abandoned the body I've used for shelter. 

I began to question whether it was normal to love your mind, and your soul but not your body? Where would that put me? How do I reclaim this body so I could accept it? My body and skin are strangers to me that if I could detach myself from it - I would. I'd ask for another body that's never been touched by a man that I have to see so often, whom I have to constantly forgive - yet he looks at me as if shaking his hand would mean that I've been OK with everything. He stole away my skin, my body, my reflection before I could see them. How do I fix this?

While self-care and self-love have taught me to be compassionate with myself, and how to cope with my depression and anxiety, I still struggle to look at my body with the same compassion I have for my mental health. I wish things don't have to be this hard. I wish I could simply alter my mind to believe that I could be loved and love in the way that I should - fully and wholly. I wish I don't have to pause and freeze when something reminds me of what had happened. I wish I could love myself naked.

It truly sucked when someone called me beautiful cause I looked at my body first and be disgusted with it. Sigh. It's so messed up. I couldn't even bring myself to imagine what other victims who went through much scarier and unfortunate incidents had to go through just to survive the day.

I honestly don't know where this post is going to bring me but I'm trying to release this part of myself, so I can make space for self-acceptance. So I could look at my naked body and appreciate every inch of my skin, every scar that's taken too long to heal and fade. Every scar that never fades, and the imperfection of it that defines who I am. Skin, body, mind, and soul.

I want to be able to love myself completely before anyone else can. That's the only selfish act that I will never be sorry for.

Dear body, 

Please be mine again. 

Read more

On Finding New Paths

I thought I would write this post when I finally land a new job, but it seems like that's not happening any time soon. 

It's not a secret that I've been hoping to get out of my current job so I could venture into new fields or finally feel that I've progressed career-wise. I've been in my current job for 5 years yet I don't think I've accomplished anything at all. It's daunting to update my resume when there is nothing to be proud of or speak highly about when really, all I do is sit in front of a computer, do minutes and draft letters, and nothing more. I feel embarrassed to talk about work, and most of the time it just feels like I'm being ungrateful. 

I am very determined to leave my job this year. Somehow, I have a very strong feeling that it could happen. I am so burnout from work that I can no longer find any excitement or passion for things I used to love doing. Most of the time, I am just so exhausted. I am at the extreme end of the burnout spectrum. I didn't realise this until I noticed how bad my anxiety has become. 

About three months ago, I got called for an interview. I worked extremely hard for it and I even visited the office to see how things were like. That was how badly I wanted a new job. Not this job specifically but anything to get me out. I haven't been in an interview in five years and preparing for that really made me nervous and I was doing all these little things to my body that I didn't realise were merely my anxiety. Biting my nails, pinching myself, pulling out my eyelashes, and grinding my teeth. Catching my breath was the worse part. I was so anxious, so nervous that I screwed it all up. I tried to stay calm and took my time to answer the questions, but the silence and me staring at the ceiling hoping there were answers just made me look foolish. I tried to make it sound like I was confident with my answers when at the back of my mind, I was constantly bashing myself. I knew the answers to all their questions the moment I left the room. Why?!

I still waited and prayed to hear something good, although I knew it was never going to come. It was a refreshing experience, nonetheless. It does give me hope that somehow I managed to get myself to that point of the recruitment process. A decent notification on an unsuccessful interview would've been good, but somehow this is just not the common practice. 

If you're wondering why I wanted to leave my job so badly - it's because I was too scared to do it five years ago. I thought I would have loved this job, but the first time I unintentionally burst out in tears at my boss' office was the moment I realised that place was not a good fit for me. I have had the worst bosses in my previous jobs, but I had gained more from them in such a short period of time than how I had been in the last five years. I have never felt so stuck, and stagnant in my life. And I never felt so small. If I could shrink myself further, I probably would. That's how it feels like carrying this job. I am grateful for it every day, I just am not happy with the person I've become. 

I'm still holding on to that small piece of light, and I have hope that I will get out of this eventually. If you know of any vacancies or job openings, please do let me know. If there's any way that you can help me polish my resume and CV, to make it seem like I've done a legit job in the last five years, please find your way to my e-mail and get the conversations going. Here's to light and hope 💪

Read more

BLACKHOLE

Last night, instead of crying myself to sleep, I let it all out just before shutting myself down. I was on my knees begging and praying that I hope not to lose faith, and if I needed to confront this situation, I pray I would handle it gently and with utmost patience. 

I'm truly disappointed with how things turned out to be. How ugly and painful truth can be. It's so overwhelming. 

I didn't realise how long it has been since I've been this depressed and anxious. I forgot just how excruciatingly exhausting and how suffering it is to stay above water, especially when you don't know how to swim. I know better than to suffer in silence, and writing this post does not make me weak. Admitting that I am indeed not okay is one of the many steps to regain my strength and to preserve myself. 

If I needed to go through this course alone, then God shall guide me through it. If this was the purpose of my existence here, then I shall do my best to save it before it really breaks. But who would've thought, right? 

Read more

Anxiety over Anxiety

“I can’t stop crying, it’s back. I’m sorry. Why do I feel like this?” 

“Please, meet me up, please

I want to see you

Please come see me, please,”

I begged

“Please, can you just do one thing for me

Please just drive, I will wait,”

I begged a little more

“I’m at the car park, can you please come here?”

I walked as fast as I could

I knocked on her window

She let me in

“What am I supposed to do now?” I asked to myself

I watched her hands firmly holding her steering wheel

as she sobbed and sobbed and cried and cried

“Shit, what do I do now?” I asked myself again

My arm reached out to her back

and my hand pat pat pat pat pat

She cried harder

And I was lost for words

I kept patting and brushing her back

“It’s okay, let it all out. Cry. It’s going to be okay”

“Okay mind tell me what to do, what am I supposed to do, what am I supposed to say?”

An Inner dialogue

I panicked

“I can’t tell her to stop. I can’t tell her to just breathe and be. I have to do something. I - I - I - don’t know. I- I - I - don’t know. I don’t. Shit. I 

I…

I… 

I… “

“Tell it to Fuck Off,” words came out of my mouth

I continued to have more inner dialogue

“Was I supposed to swear? Does does does - shit - does that make it any better? I don’t swear that way. Why - why .. I - I - don’t I don’t ..” 

I kept patting her on her back

Half of me wanting to reach out entirely to her and give her a hug

“Is that appropriate? I don’t know how to hug someone. I can’t.. Will that help? Does she want a hug?”

“That’s okay, I’m here. This is only temporary” Why won’t my stupid mouth just shut up already

“Do you always feel like this? It hurts. I don’t know why. I’ve never had this before,” she finally said something.

“Yes, all the time. I get it all the time. It’s not easy. It sucks. I hate it. It sucks,” I replied.

“Was that helpful? oh Damn. I don’t know. I can’t tell her that she’s not trapped when I am trapped in this situation,” I continued to talk to myself

I also told her more things I wasn’t sure was helpful

“Am I making it worse for her? What kind of friend am I? Shouldn’t I know better at handling this? But… but… but… I’ve 

I’ve

I’ve only had to deal with myself before
I can tell myself anything
I can tell myself to fuck off if I have to
But she’s not me
This is not the same thing
Our struggle is not the same
I’ve had it for years and I know myself better
I know how to let it take its course and let things pass
But
but
this is new to her. I don’t know how to …”

My hand never left her back

We both tried to breathe together

She cried harder every time

“Can I just have some time alone for a while? Is that okay? Can I just meet you upstairs later?” She asked

I said okay and I left

As I walked,

“Idiot. Should you even leave her alone? What if something happens? Shouldn’t you just be there.. but it was also so strange to watch someone cry and not know what to do. Okay, I’ll leave. I’ll leave and wait. She’ll come around. She’ll come around. She’ll be okay. Right? Right?”

My heart started to slow down

but my mind was telling me otherwise

I sat and I waited

I watched the time tick and tock

I tapped tapped tapped my knee

I tapped tapped tapped my phone

“Am I being selfish for forcing her to come here tonight? Should I just tell her that she can go home? but what if things get worse when she gets home? What if she cries more and more and I’m not there? Should we just cancel this? But this could be good. Maybe we both needed this. I know I need it. I know I need her to be here. Will she come? Will she come? What if she stood me up? No. She won’t. She won’t. She won’t”

I tapped tapped tapped my knee

I watched people watched me

And I looked down I looked around

I saw no sights of her

It’s time, she’s not here

My heart started to pound harder

I couldn’t breathe

I panicked

“Is she coming? Is she coming? Should I call her? Should I go down and get her?”

“Hey, we’re at cinema 6. I’ll wait for you here okay” I sent her a text.

2 mins

3 mins

3.10 mins

4 mins

4.47 mins

5 mins

“Is she coming? If she doesn’t, that’s selfish. I’d be hurt, but no I can’t think of it like that. That’s selfish of me. Maybe I shouldn’t have forced her to come. I should be sending her home. She would be more comfortable at home. But is she coming? Should I just go in and leave her ticket at the counter? And wait? AH. What am I supposed to do? I don’t don’t don’t know.” 

I bought her a bottle of water just in case

She will be thirsty I know

And hungry too I know

“Okay, one popcorn and a bottle of water please,” I said to the salesguy

“I’m on my way up. I’ll see you soon” she sent me voice clip

“Okay, Okay, Okay she’s coming. Good. Good Good Good Good she’s coming, okay I can breathe I can breathe we won’t bring this up we won’t bring this up” 

I saw her walking towards me

and my hand was ready to pass her the water

as if she had run a marathon

and I saw her arms suddenly reaching out to me for a hug

“Oh okay okay okay okay we’ll hug. she’s good she’s good”

I patted her on the back “Let’s go!” 

In the cinema

I secretly observed her as she drank the water

and constantly munching on the popcorn

and then she leaned her body to my side

“This is good. We will be okay. She’s going to be okay”

And so we went on through the evening and braced it through

PS:

Other than beautiful soundtrack, we were both disappointed with the movie.

Read more

On Anxiety and Depression

I just came across a Thought Catalog article that really hit close to home.  I was reading and trying not to sob and puke from knowing just how much I could relate to it.

“If you are depressed you are living in the past, if you are anxious you are living in the future,” Lao Tzu.

I can’t say that that’s not true. We worry about things that we shouldn’t really have been. We see what could go wrong first before we notice everything that’s right. We are constantly panicking not to panic. It’s exhausting.

We are not anxious all the time, but new information may trigger it. Say you want to meet us at a new restaurant at an unfamiliar location, what do we do? We get anxiety attack. Our mind suddenly explode into all these tiny possibilities of what could go wrong: “I might get lost!” “I will be late if I get lost!” “Which way is faster?” “Which way has less traffic?” “Damn, does that mean I have to take the roundabout?” “Which lane of the roundabout?” “Why isn’t it on a map?” “How do I navigate my way there?” “What time should I leave?” “How far is it from home?” and it goes on and on and on that we pretty much lose sleep over it. Our chest tighten and we can't breathe until it's over.

Little things in our daily life can be consuming and our brain just never stops processing and producing all of these possibilities that are so unnecessary. It’s the same with promises and plans; we just don’t like to be disappointed.

And what about depression?

Depression is the scariest of it all. It puts our lives on the edges of everything.  We don’t like to be told as if we’ve never gotten help, we tried. It’s not something that just goes away, and you don’t simply find a cure for it. Yes, everyone struggles but not everyone suffers. We are always trying to lessen the suffering we get from depression, but sometimes we just can’t fight it. Life becomes pitch black, numb and heavy. It’s sweetness in our body forgotten, replaced with every inch of pain we could possibly feel. We have no words for it. We just let it take its course and believe the storms will soon pass.

A little over four months ago, I had one of those moments. It was so terrifying that I was too afraid to get out of the house. I couldn’t trust myself. I’ve had suicidal thoughts in the past but it was the first time in my life that I felt determined to do it. Everything that I saw and held gave me an idea of how it could kill me. For the longest 2 weeks of my life, I was afraid of myself. I called up a friend, who was in counselling and sought for help. I talked to someone who had been on pills, but told him that I didn’t want it because at that time, I was already thinking of overdosing myself. And in the midst of all that, where was my partner?

I was alone, lonely, unloved and uncared for and the only person, who could pick me up, was myself. I knew I needed to give the care and comfort I needed so I did exactly that. It wasn’t easy but I was glad there were people I could talk to every now and then, and motivated me to find ways to stand up again.

On my way to recovery, more unfortunate events befell me; wedding cancelled, my project got defunded and then I was told to resign. And soon, my grandma’s passing. Shouldn’t these give me more reasons to be depressed? Well, no. It doesn’t work like that. Like I said, we have very little control over it. When it happens, it happens.

So being with someone like me isn’t easy, and I don’t blame them for leaving, for not seeing a future with me. We are a lot to handle, and we get it. That’s why sometimes we’re upfront about it so that you can back out before it’s too late, before we get too attached hoping that you would be the one to catch us when we fall – literally falling into a dark pit.

But there are some of us who are stronger than you might think. We know what it feels like to be in such an emotional state, that we can be compassionate and loving. We have so much love in our soul to give. We want so much to treat others with kindness and warmth that we do want to make so many people around us happy. Yes, we get crazy sometimes but if you just stick with us through it, maybe it won’t come and visit as often. And we would like that very very much.

Read more