i am still whole, but sometimes i remember my brokenness

SIGH.

One part of the thing my pastor talked about today was how forgiveness of sins is instant but sanctification from the sin (being part of our life) is a process.

I cannot agree with it more. For 16 years of my life i believed that i will not and could not have a relationship with a Christian guy; because of the trauma i experienced. (Read ’16 years’) And besides not wanting to; on my part, because of the mental block, i also had parts of me which did not believe i deserved to even be with these Christian guys. Because on the whole, they were the ones placed on the pedestal of supposedly being better than the other guys out there.

IN REALITY though, i later learned from my mom that guys are guys and she always says this, So what if they are Christian? They’re still men and they have sexual drives. Pigs are still pigs, basically. Oh mum :’)

Sometimes, i still have traces of those emotions, of not being worthy of having a relationship, (Stemming from feeling like used goods back then) or feeling like a relationship won’t last because i am not made whole but i am broken.

And i know that i can get past this only with God’s help, in the sense that i will find my worth and value in God; who i was born as, not who i have become due to experiences. It’s just sometimes i get really depressed and stuck in the feelings that i do not deserve a relationship and all the depressing emotions.. URGHHHHH

Colour me shades of uncertainty, sometimes.e6c0eb7502de6c89018bd9b7a98239c0

 

15 years

On 31st December, i will be sharing on my perception of my dad’s love being lust because he was an absent father when i was young..

the only love he showed me was through physical touch of hugging and kissing my forehead, and holding my hand, etc. so i thought he did not love me, or rather i thought love was lust because every time he interacted with me physically he said, “i love you”. 

*he was never inappropriate, no under the sheets thing*

which led to me having sexual lusty thoughts about guys because i thought that was love 

which led to me being sexually aware of the opposite sex at a very young age, like 13

which led to me fantasizing about guys cause i thought that was love

basically. i am girl. who will be sharing on sexual sin. 

i am afraid. i keep thinking, “am i doing the right thing?” i know it is the right thing. But this will really kill my social life at the religious place i think. “How will my friends view me?” will they even be my friends afterward.. SIGH. i know it is the right thing to do by God, but this fear and uneasiness is not diminishing but growing and having sleepless nights is the least of my worries as the day draws nearer. what if i chicken out? What if i can’t finish my testimony? Maybe i should get high or drink some dry hard drink before the testimony. go there drunk. wow. that’s an idea, and this, THIS is obviously a rant.

Despite my rant, i know it will be okay. i got these nerves before.. the other time i shared about my eating disorder. i cried so much then, the bulimia only lasted for about 3 months, but i cried so MUCH. 

This had gone on for years without me seeking help and without me speaking about it because of the shame, guilt and anxiety i felt, at the time. 

It has been 15 years from the age i started to perceive my dad in that way, an abuser.

15 years since I’ve loved and hated him.

15 years i kept silent.

15 years i cried, off and on about this disgust toward myself, toward (Christian) boys and towards this man called my dad.

15 years of fear living in the same house as the man i perceived to have had abused me.

*again, he was never inappropriate, no under the sheets thing*

15 years of not being able to really love my dad as how a natural familial love should be.

15 years.

i feel better blogging. God, this is so hard. 

Why i am, me

I grew up with this phrase hammered into me, ‘Children are seen, not heard.’

When i was younger and ‘did not know my place’, i always tried to interrupt adults speaking and even got slapped for it once, it seemed like i never learned; until that slap.

No more

*REWIND*

However, i realize my natural speaking pattern was not one that interrupted people talking; it was something developed as a ‘survival’ technique, if you will.

I had always been a quiet kid.

Then i realized somewhere along the line, if i was quiet, i would not get what i wanted (there are 4 of us siblings, and we fought over things like normal kids). i couldn’t just sit there like a doll, i had to talk to get the thing i wanted.

So i began to speak out and up. But i, not having much experience speaking (because i am originally quiet), spoke up at the wrong times. I had such bad timing, and always got reprimanded for it. But that didn’t stop me (oh, boy, i was on a roll), i just kept at it.

Until that slap; cause i interrupted my dad, with only one word: ‘But’.

After that, i became quiet. Even more quiet than i was before. I would only talk freely to my uncle David cause he is the nicest man, and he never once raised his voice at us kids or in any conversations with the adults. So i trusted he would not scold me.

Being quiet taught me many things, e.g.:

i learnt to observe human behavior, especially body language. Nervousness, irritation, annoyance, anger beneath the surface, etc. all the negative emotions were picked up first, because i had to watch out for them, because i would RUN as soon as i saw the tell-tale signs. Or if i couldn’t run, i would stop talking with whoever i was talking to, to not draw attention to myself, excuse myself and observe the person from afar. If it was at a dinner table and i could not get away from the person, i would make sure i was not doing things which annoyed that person.

Disclaimer: I don’t think i’m good at reading people though

i learnt to act. Act like the mask was my real face. Why? Because no one wanted to see my real emotions anyway, all they wanted; rather, all people want is for us to react in the way they expect us to react. And even when we don’t, they’ll still see it as that. Because people believe what they want to believe.

i learnt that everyone has a weakness. And i do admit to using it against them.

Lemme give you an example: i used to favourite my youngest sister among my sisters. And she had this friend who had just met me at the time in high school. My youngest sister would tell me things about her friend, H, about H’s family who, favourited H among her siblings. It was quite obvious that the dad favourited H, through the stories H told my sister, and that H’s eldest sister did not like the favouristism (who would? moving on..) Conclusion: H is very loved by her family and was not on good terms with her sister. So, one day when H was in the car with us on the way home (we gave her a lift) i started to be mean to my youngest sister. Really, really mean, until she almost cried, but she did not, cause H was in the car. I felt so SO bad. But anyway, i could tell H was really uncomfortable in the car and prolly felt bad for my sister. The next day, i saw H and my younger sister holding hands on the way to class after break time. They were smiling and laughing together. H saw me, and she prolly smiled insincerely towards me because of how bad i’d made her friend (my sister) feel the day before.

You see, my sister had told me about a week ago, before the mean incident that she was feeling left out of the clique of friends she had at school. She wasn’t petite like M&M, nor was she slim and sweet like K,H&S, or hot like Rachel. She was tall, for her age, average sized (No, she was not fat), and not mysterious like the other girls. (guys always like the mysterious ones?) Anyway. H & my sister weren’t that close before the mean incident. Honestly, which friend can ignore another friend who has been humiliated by their sibling, in front of them? Unless, of course, that friend isn’t a friend who cares. But, anyway, i totally made sure of that before i initiated H could catch a ride home with us that day.

i manipulate people unconsciously
i tell a lies like its the truth
i piss people off for the fun of it
i react in a way i think people want me to react
but, mostly, i do it in the name of love.

Does that make it right? NO

Do i care? YES..

..But, its hard (i know it sounds like an excuse..); trying to live ‘right’ after doing these things for so long, its like tearing off my own skin. Cause my mask became my skin, that’s why I don’t know if I will ever really find out who i am.


The question you need to ask yourself about me is..

Is the person i thought xxx is, really xxx? Or just someone she (i) wanted me(you) to See?


I know that there is at least one person in this world that i have shown my truest (iiiii think) self to.

You, Jean.

*Edit: Another two are YL and Krys.

 

Unhinged thoughts

Sometimes i think about what a blade might feel like against my skin, will it be prickly or ticklish or painful..

Sometimes i think about what it’d  be like to smash my car into the divider, will the glass fly in slow motion, will my life flash before my eyes, or will it be sudden darkness..

Sometimes i think about ways to suffocate people because i wonder how long it takes a person to die..

Sometimes i think about whether i should kill my dog by poisoning because he’s really annoying..

Sometimes i wonder if i can keep being nice because its easier to be mean..

Sometime i wonder about the blood patterns if i stab someone:

  • with a sharp knife
  • with a jagged knife
  • with a crude knife

..will it look like CSI..

Sometimes i wonder if i should play with people’s feelings, sincerity is undervalued and sometimes just not worth it..

Sometimes i wonder if i will really find out who i am.


 

 

TEACHERS – TEACH US

I was just pointing out that the word teachers sounds a lot like ”Teach us” Haha. Anyway, lameness aside, I have been let down by so many teaching position people in my very short life..I am 23 so far.

  It all started in high school..*I wish i kept a constant journal while growing up, sad to say, i didn’t. Hence, everything i write is just a fragment of my memory, which is really short term.*

High school. I did not like that place, neither did i dislike it entirely, Some teachers were bearable, some were REALLY not meant to teach for a living. Anyhow, I excelled at school, if I do say so myself. I made friends but only a few close ones whom I still keep in contact with now. And I found favour in the teacher’s eyes because I was a ‘good girl’.

It was towards the end of Form 4 which is when we are 16 years old and it was the last semester of the year, before the final exams. I remember leaving the classroom and walking to the teacher’s lounge. I had to walk past 2 blocks and a badminton court, and I was carrying the hall pass; it was Bright pink which could be seen from a distance by any teacher or the discipline teacher. (i found him always prowling about school like a lion looking for mice. And should he chance upon any unfortunate student walking about without the hall pass during class hours, their fate would be severe.)

Anyway, there i was walking about, leaping up the flight of stairs two at a time and placing my hand on the teacher’s lounge doors when I heard them talking inside, quite near the door in fact. Now I don’t usually do this, but for some reason I did, that day. (I can almost see my hand on the door in my mind’s eye now as I’m typing this) I glanced around quickly and checked that there was no one around so i peeked through the crack left by the old and rusted door hinge which always made that particular door slightly lopsided and open and i eavesdropped.

”I ingat sem ni, kak akan dapat bonus lagi ya,” one teacher was praising the other (usually teachers only got bonuses when students get A for the subject they taught.)

”Uh, tak pasti lah, mugkin tak juga. Pelajar-pelajar smakin malas.” my science teacher said in reply.

Then a third voice joined them, my Moral teacher, Miss Liu. ”Well, xxx is in your class. You just have to encourage her a little bit and she’ll do it. I’m sure we’ll get our bonuses.”

The bunch of them laughed and they went on to criticise the lower classes and complained that if only all their students got A they would…(I don’t even want to say it BUT,) they would be rich and not need to work so hard. They all laughed again like it was a good joke.

  I could not believe what I’d just heard. So all that good treatment I received was because i got good grades? It was not because the teachers and I had become good friends? Some of them weren’t that old and I treated them like a wiser, older sister. Especially Ms Liu, i adored her! I even gave her my evanescence CD I’d won in a radio contest. I wondered what they would treat me like if i started to get bad grades. I was rooted to the spot and so caught up in my hurt that i didn’t notice a teacher had come out of the other door ahead of the one i was standing outside of. I dropped to my knees to fake tie my already tied shoelace and bent my head to hide my sadness. I told myself it was not true, that I’d heard wrongly. I turned away from the teacher’s lounge already forgetting the errand I had come out on. To this day, I cannot remember why I went there that day. It was such a shock to me, to hear that conversation. I’m not sorry I eavesdropped. If i didn’t, I would have been the dumb one, to continue to believe in their lies and their fictitious behaviors. I would not have guessed it myself, in fact I would have slammed anyone who slammed my beloved teachers.

I almost forgot the whole incident, until the next day at science class, at the laboratory. The teacher, I really liked her, nay I adored her, she was so kind and nice. She sidled up to me while the class and i were writing out the answers to the textbook activities after she had taught the day’s lesson. She smiled at me, and i immediately smiled back at her. She asked me about classes for a bit then said, ”So, do you think you can do well in the finals? ‘A’ boleh tak? She smiled encouragingly again. I felt sick. So that conversation was real. It DID happen. I wanted to shout at her, ”Do you only think of money when you look at me?” Inside i was crying and i so mad at her. I forced a smile and teased her, ”Ey, cikgu boleh bagi reward jika I dapat A tak?” I thought grudgingly that I was the one who was studying for the exam and if I got the ‘A’, I should get my share right?

Her smile faltered and she said, ”Cikgu government servant je, mana ada duit? It’s okay xxx, just do your best.” She smiled again, only this time I knew it was fake, I knew it was a lie and I knew she was just using me. (If you’re a govt servant, shouldn’t you have set an example to students instead of being all fake like and only treating us well because of our grades??She should have been nice to everyone regardless of our grade.)

I got first place all throughout that year, but though the battle was won, I had lost the will to fight the war. I wondered, if teachers can lie to us students, who else can we trust? I never thought that the teachers would treat me this way, that they would have an ulterior motive. Now i knew why teachers only focused on the good students but hardly took time to teach the bad students. When it should have been the other way around.

But still, i loved science too much to do badly in it, I thought i would teach her a lesson, but i didn’t. Maybe it was also because she was pregnant Again, that I thought maybe my A grade would help her in her expenses. She didn’t come to class much and I who never really paid much attention in class anyway even from the start of Form 4. I relied on my external science books to score and kept that up until SPM.

I ended up teaching my moral teacher a lesson instead. (oh the irony)

The next year I purposely neglected my moral studies. I dropped from an A grade student in that subject to a C grade student, in a year, well, less than a year; that is after the mid term exams. I wanted my report card to show a very obvious decline in my grade. I purposely used the wrong words but with similar meanings in the definition and some answers, I even left blank, which was quite unheard of for a student like me. I dropped from an A2 to a C5 in 3 months. It was planned. But i worried before the results came out if I’d made myself fail, but luckily i didn’t. It was so alarming that Ms Liu talked to me privately about it. (I noticed that after my grade for her subject dropped her demeanor towards me changed, it was like i had magically been labelled a ‘bad girl’ in her books. She paid less attention to me in class, and did not even smile at me when I saw her in the hallway, as compared to how she used to when I got good grades. So this was the treatment the bad students received. And i was not her ‘friend’ after all and neither was she gonna ‘help me through my problems should i be facing any’. Disappointment in her was an understatement.)  But i wasn’t really listening to her and acted like i was, I acted disappointed but really I was triumphant. If she could be fake, so could i. I know, I really was not the better man, after all at that time, i was still a minor and my thinking wasn’t matured. She, on the other hand was an adult and had been an adult for a very long time. The only thing i disliked was that my GPA dropped a Lot and i placed 3rd in class that semester. I received flack for that from my family and so i rose back to an A2 in the next sem.

Anyhow, this was the beginning of my distrust in teachers. Teachers were those precious gems i’d still believed in, other than my parents. At age 8, i started hating the authorities and didn’t trust people in general. But TEACHERS, i loved you all. It was hard to let go, but i did eventually. At age 16, i stopped believing in teachers.

RESULTS

RESULTS DAY. 5 YEARS AGO. 18.

MY EYES SCANNED EVERY INCH OF MY FACE FOR BLEMISHES OR EVEN, WAIT, ARE THOSE DARK CIRCLES I SEE? UGH, I LOOK LIKE A PANDA. BUT THE PANDA LOOK IS KIND OF IN NOW, I THINK. AH, WHATEVER. EVERYONE WHO IS HARDWORKING HAS PANDA EYES. SO, IT ISSSSS A GOOD THING. I CALLED MUM TO HURRY UP AND SEND ME, WE WERE ALREADY RUNNING LATE. SHE EYED MY SKIRT AND ASKED ME IF I WAS SURE I WANTED TO WEAR A SHORT SKIRT TO SCHOOL. YESSSSS MUM, ITS NOT THAT SHORT, I MEAN LIKE IF YOU COULD ONLY SEE WHAT THE OTHER KIDS WORE -.- BUT INSTEAD OF SAYING THAT, I SAID DEMURELY, ”ITS JUST A SHORT WHILE TO GET MY RESULTS, I WON’T TAKE 10 MINUTES.” SHE PURSED HER LIPS AND SAID NOTHING. 

WE REACHED SCHOOL IN RECORD TIME, 7 MINUTES! NOT BAD..I SEARCHED THE CROWD OF PEOPLE FOR MY EX-CLASSMATES, SOME PEOPLE WERE ALREADY HERE. SU, JASON, SARA..BUT WHERE WAS JENA? HMM, MY IRRITATION CLEARLY SHONE ON MY FACE BECAUSE SOMEONE TAPPED ME ON THE SHOULDER AND JOKINGLY SAID, ”WOKE UP ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE BED?” I TURNED AROUND ONLY TO GIVE A SARCASTIC, ”HA HA.” AS I WHACKED MY BESTIE EUJIN. HE WAVED HIS RESULTS IN MY FACE. THE FLIMSY PIECE OF PAPER SOUNDED LIKE IT WAS LAUGHING AT MY IRRITATION. 

”WHERE’S YOUR RESULTS?”

”I HAVEN’T COLLECTED IT..”

”WHAT? WHY? SCARED IS IT?”

I STARED AT HIM WITH A  -___- EXPRESSION. IF I WAS SCARED, I WOULDN’T HAVE COME TODAY TO COLLECT IT, I THOUGHT TO MYSELF. ”TSK, SHADDAP LA YOU..I’M WAITING FOR JENA. WHAT DID YOU GET?”

”HUH.. OH, JUST GET IT FIRST, SHE WON’T MIND.”

I TRIED TO SNATCH HIS PAPER AWAY FROM HIM, BUT HE LIFTED IT UP AND BACKWARDS AWAY FROM ME. JUST THEN, THE OTHER GUYS FROM EUJIN’S CLASS WITH THEIR RESULT SLIPS GATHERED AROUND US ALL SHOUTING AND LAUGHING AND THUMPING EACH OTHER ON THEIR BACKS. I ROLLED MY EYES AND WALKED TO THE BENCH. AS I SAT THERE TEXTING JENA, A CALL CAME THROUGH AND IT WAS MUM ASKING IF I WAS DONE. SHE DECIDED THAT SHE WOULD PICK ME UP ON THE WAY HOME LATER ON. JUST AS I HUNG UP THE PHONE WITH HER, JENA STEPPED INTO MY VIEW. 

I JUMPED UP AND HUGGED HER, ”YOU CAME!” SHE LOOKED LIKE SHE WOULD HAVE RATHER STAYED AT HOME AND SIMPLY NODDED. WE WENT TO OUR CLASS’ RESULTS COLLECTION TABLE AND SHOWED OUR IDENTIFICATIONS TO THE RELEASE SLIP TEACHER IN CHARGE. I SAW MINE BRIEFLY AND SMILED AT JENA WHOSE EXPRESSION CLOUDED WHEN SHE SAW HERS. 

”SO?”

”SO, WHAT?”

”HOW IS IT, YOUR RESULTS?”

”BETTER THAN I EXPECTED. 3 A’S THE REST B’S, C’S D’S.”

I NODDED. SHE LOOKED AT ME EXPECTANTLY WITH A LITTLE BORED EXPRESSION TOO. ”I DID WORST THAN I EXPECTED, BUT, I AM GRATEFUL.7 A’S 2 B’S 1 C,” MY VOICE HARDENING A LITTLE AT THE MENTION OF MY C.

THEN JENA SAID SOMETHING TOTALLY UNEXPECTED, ”YOU GUYS WHO ALWAYS DO WELL ACADEMICALLY ALWAYS SEEM TO BE SO SAD WHENEVER YOU GET ONE MARK/ HOWEVER MANY MARKS LESS THAN WHAT YOU GET. I MEAN, IF IT WAS ME GETTING YOUR RESULTS, I’D BE DAMN HAPPY ALREADY.” 

UNEXPECTED BECAUSE, ALTHOUGH JENA WAS MY CLOSEST GIRL FRIEND IN HIGH SCHOOL, SHE ALWAYS STRUCK ME AS SOMEONE VERY BRIGHT AND KNOWLEDGEABLE JUST NOT STUDIOUS OR INTERESTED TO EXCEL ACADEMICALLY. WHILE I ON THE OTHER HAND, NOT VERY BRIGHT BUT WORKED MY ASS OFF TO GET GOOD GRADES. I MULLED OVER HER WORDS FOR THE REST OF THAT DAY, TO ME, IT FELT LIKE A REMINDER THAT RESULTS ARE JUST RESULTS OF PAST DILIGENCE; NOTHING MORE. 

In my asian culture, results are everything. And now, where there are no grades in my professional papers; whether you get a pass or a fail is everything. And society today is consumed by how many pieces of papers, uh, i mean certifications one can get to deem you more ‘fit’ for a job. It is not everything, it is just a form of idiotic measurement scholastic institutions use to write a person’s worth down on paper; to somewhat immortalise that part of a person, while knowing full well that time is fleeting and the human brain is one that cannot store up information for long periods of time.

For we are mortal. And so are results.  


I am consumed with the pressure to pass, to not let my family down, but pride comes before a fall, and it looks like i have fallen. 

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