Drawn out by strings

Hi it’s been awhile.

After leaving my last job, every day I have been living in the clouds – afraid of the day the lightness I feel will dissipate and I will descent into reality.

I have been working at my own pace. Company is home and we entertain ourselves in this lockdown with cooking, eating and planning our next mundane activity.

The days go by not without each’ thought and emotion. I feel guilty and greedy. I feel so happy to own a block of time removed from everyone and everything else. Sometimes the sadness creeps in and the anxiousness threatens when projects loom (before I get the chance to break them down to achievable scales).

I’ve not felt like writing nor at peace like I do now.

Drawn out by the classics, the emotions I feel seems comprehendible and melodic to my soul. My own thoughts played back to me.

I miss the world and all its hubbub. But at least I’m far away enough to enjoy my peace of this world where I am.

28 and not needing reality like it needs me.

lei

How do you do it?

I don’t know, that’s why. And I wonder how everyone else is okay.

Between myself and everyone else, it’s like I revel in all my weaknesses – because no one seems to show much.

I’m running on reserves. The end of my mileage before the engine stops puttering and spitting and rolls to a halt. Losing my will to do anything. Its odd because I’ve stopped rolling down a dark hill (ish). I’ve left my job, no one specific to blame for that (well) leading me to beautiful—and very likely God-orchestrated—open doors.

But it’s crazy, is it because I’m lacking a routine? Is it truly the over year long home working situation? It most likely has contributed.

To the best of my abilities I’ve deduced that I’m in dire need of quality connections. There are some things that can’t take the place of solid conversations that spill over time. Conversations that heal and reveal, that find both sides with ample takeaways of food for thought.

Today I settled for opening up my Bible app and listening to Don Moen. Sitting in quietness with God provides the same healing. And as I spoke to him the worries running the background ceased to notify me of their existence temporarily.

It’s not difficult to build up anxieties over this pandemic, which we all try to accept but might still be holding our breathes over. Like can the fog lift already?

I try to find distraction and satisfaction in alternate realities; happy endings on tv or in books. However, four episodes in on a recent night, I resigned to the fact that happy endings are not guaranteed, nor lasting and waiting for them takes uncountable hours per dose. The next time, tonight, I turned to sitting with God.

When I had thought to quit, I cautioned myself that I couldn’t and shouldn’t damage my (productivity) momentum. With freed up mental capacity, I was also looking forward to write again—on my readied new laptop—and explore other means of living. But now that we’re here and I smell the burnt tires while typing on the phone too unbothered to get Carrie Bradshaw-inspired on the MacBook, it seems the symptoms are showing. This all is going to be a work in progress and I’ll be needing God to peacefully get me there, wherever there is.

Just what they were.

You know how certain songs can stir your emotions all up.

Even when you weren’t feeling emo, you are now.

Even if you weren’t thinking of that person, you are now.

I think that’s kinda like how you are to me.

There are some songs that will remind me of a good time in the past where images of my family laughing comes to mind, or a bad moment from when I ran away from a boy I thought was what I thought he was,

You’re kind of like a great tune. Great to drive to, head nod to, the track circles around and its a good vibe. And then the song ends.

I’ll only remember the feelings when it plays again.

Well you have 2 songs.

My To-Do List

It feels like I should get these thoughts out of my head so I can focus on what’s ahead of me/ what I now suddenly feel I should do with what’s ahead of me.

I got out of bed, out of my current usual routine of finding joy/meaning in good stories, to write down the things I’ve stopped doing. Feels like I have time now. (Strangely not whilst abandoned to MCO, but on a one-day-extra weekend.)

Could it be that ample time does not work the same as opportune time?

Anyway, the list.
1. In the past recent weeks, I’ve not set aside time to spend with God/on reading His word. although I have gone through some sighing type/TGIF prayer..
2. In a long long time, I’ve not journalled. Not properly put my feelings down in sequence, in a way processing them when it happens..when I write now, they’re jumbled and not as clear, thus not
3. Reflected on them properly,
4. Had morning Me-time.

When I was in uni, and even after I started working in Penang, in my first and worst rented place, to my second and that slightly less worse place, to the final haven I found, I always woke up late at mid-morning. Drank water. Went to the loo..
Srrt srrt srtt. Walked about in my slippers in a normally empty place, and made myself a mug of tea.

If it stayed empty, to my delight, I’d seat to cool my tea, peel my Navel orange, take a deep whiff of the fresh zesty fragrance, and that there meant a good morning to me.

When I had the resources (a proper clean kitchen), I’d make a full toast, scrambled eggs and mushroom/bacon breakkie. but, some times.

In uni, I had half the room to myself, partial ownership, so I’d rest my legs up the table and just take in the morning er, close to noon view and that’d feed my soul.

My first apartment was a cheap, slightly dingy, but cheap, place that had a windows in my room. The second place had a couch by the balcony in the living. At the third, I just sat on the furry rug to eat my breakfast in the daylight by the window or pulled a chair to stare out.

What about these things makes sense to me, and why is it important? I suppose it was personal space. Something that initially I didn’t know how to enjoy, but now gives me strength. (It’s nothing about sniffing oranges.)

The Me growing up would devote as much time I have to the people I love, and love to be with. If I could, I would.
I think now, there’s no need to feel guilt for saying no, right?

At 27, I still find it hard to find my balance. How do you people adult so immaculately, and in fact, achieve so much?

The truth is lately, rather yesterday I had a call – quite literally a wake up call (not to be dramatic, it’s just in my brain).

And it made me think, is this all I want in life? because I relooked at what I want to have in my coming future, and I wondered..will I achieve it going on like this? I’m not exactly talking about it in view of other’s lives though that’s always going to be part of the package,

Rather, looking at what I want for myself in the future

am I doing all I can to get there? _

5 years

When I was younger, I used to think that 19 was a great age. It was sweet, young and especially perfect for the first boyfriend.

I used to think that I’d like him to be within, 1-5 years – no, in fact, 5 years older should be perfect.

He should be taller than me of course. Same height would be fine.. (Until high school when my only slightly shorter male buddy said I towered over him like a dinosaur in heels.)

Tall, dark and handsome….is too far-fetched let’s not set ourselves up for failure I thought.

A deep/unreadable gaze (I used to sketch, horribly, Jesse McCartney’s T-line – because the shadow made by a straight brow and notable nose created a shadow over the eye). Hopefully?

My dating experience in form six (one lunch and one dinner separately), hit the nail on the coffin and sent any preference for non-milky skinned Chinese boys whatsoever six-feet under. No one fairer than me. It just wasn’t going to work out. I didn’t like Chinese boys once I got to know them..unless they were different, un-Chinese-like.

Going to uni, I was attracted to men who spoke well, who knew more than I did, and a sparkling world of endless learning.

I wanted someone who could attract me mentally. Pique my thoughts and talk on a wavelength I’d feel sparks just trying to figure out let alone connect on.

I also wanted someone so kind..he could notice things people ordinarily didn’t. Someone gentle in manner, but a man no less, because people are harsh enough no matter blood bond or not. I’d witness enough senseless bickering over ego.

But mostly in my teens, all I thought I wanted was that he be older, tall and slim fit. haha

The last guy I dated in uni really ruined that “older guy” perception though. he was really not mature, at that time, at least not for the commitment-phobe I sorta was/am.
I bolted emotionally so hard, by the end of the second date.

A lot has evolved since 24 became the new “19”.

A lot has changed in me. Then again, I used to think I’d be married by 25.

And two guys separately had their effect.

to be continued.