Enough is Enough

It took me a lot of thinking and consideration before I had the will to write this first line. But even then, my heart and my mind clash in half frozen state. Born under the sign of Pisces my horoscope says I am “Compassionate, Adaptable, Accepting, Devoted and Imaginative. I am also supposedly ” Oversensitive, Indecisive, Self-pitying, Lazy and an Escapist”. Out of these then characteristics, I strongly disagree that I am lazy, and I blame on my hormonal swings when it comes to self-pity. And if I were to believe my lucky stars, there is some truth to what the astros have created me to be.

Growing up in a household where self-sacrifice is equated to love for family, I had often held back on my plans all in the name of self-sacrifice. I was raised into a culture of helping others, of giving my time and resources to the young ones; to share what I have is admirable. I carried on well into adulthood this life of piety in the hope of saving and helping a hapless soul of a family member  who seems to be perpetually stuck in his own duncical lifestyle too dense to even save himself from self-destruction.

But familial duty reigns and I carried through, giving and equating giving to loving. I gave until I have none left. I gave until I was drained emotionally, financially, psychologically. I gave, until I woke up feeling empty inside, head-throbbing and hating all of my being. I felt empty, it left a hole in my head that paralyzed my ability to reason.

It is unfair. Or am I being selfish? I have had enough. Or am I falling into self-pity? Enough! That resonates over and over and over from the time I get up in the morning, until I retire at night. Enough! That keeps me awake.

Why? Why do I feel guilty for saying enough? Why can’t I move on? Why? That culture of self-sacrifice equals love haunts me. Enough! No, I really mean it this time. Enough!

I am drained to the point that I stopped believing there is a God, or if He is there, He’s neglected me. Me who has been loyal and true and tried my best to do good and stay positive. Me who always finds joy in giving and sharing. Belief and Reason left me paralyzed.

For now, I have to put an end to it, before it totally destroys me, my own family, myself.

I’ve put distance. I know I should make a call, but no. I can’t go back there again. It is not fair (not to me) but to my son and my husband.

Let me move on. Let me reclaim myself. Let me build my strength to allow me to dream again, for myself, my own family’s future.

Enough. I need to save my self.


What I Would Like to Share with You : a growing list of mother’s wisdom

My biggest challenge in life is the responsibility of raising my son and ensuring that he grows up to be a respectable, honourable man. No textbook would be able to give you the perfect advice to do so. Only that inherent instinctive love coupled with good old wisdom out of one’s experience.

Living away from my family, I am left with relying mostly on common sense and the knowledge of what I have learned from my own parents and my past, as my guide in nurturing my child. At nine years old, I am so far proud of how he carries himself. I hope one day he gets to read the snippets of wisdom I wish to impart to him –

What you don’t have, you cannot give.

You cannot give love, if you do not have it in your heart.

Respect yourself.

Unless you do, do not expect respect from others.

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Acceptance : my way of overcoming post-natal depression

I get those days when I can become clueless. Clueless on everything. Like a passing cloud drifting by, unmindful if the bigger cloud will gobble itself up or will it float through it. Well, that’s just me, exactly. But then, I need to snap back to reality before I float any further. I need those quiet, purposeless moments alone.

Since becoming a mother, after going through a bad bout of post-natal depression which took me a long while to overcome, it had been a slow road to recovery and acceptance.

I can write about it now, now that I have sort of recovered from PND.

I write this to help other mothers, especially first time mothers, who are battling to cope with their new routine, i.e. of looking after a child in the midst of sleeplessness and unplanned chaos.

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Be Yourself – life lesson imparted in 10 minutes

It’s 6.15AM and we are in the swing of things, my son getting ready for school while I am busy in the kitchen. Then my son hollers – “mom! come here please” . I ignored him for a second, but then he came to the kitchen.

“Mom, I’d like to wear my old pair of school shorts. This stupid belt is irritating me.” I followed him back to his bedroom with the suspected underlying reason playing in my head.

Be Yourself – life lesson imparted in 10 minutes.  (The Grape Vine)

Happy Reading  ♥

The Problem with the Problem

Got an email from a friend of mine (here I will call friend no 1) which I read via my Blackberry. Apparently, a friend of ours is upset with me because I haven’t responded to her email. Hmmm, I stared at the message for a while, thoughts in my head swirling. Nah, not on a Sunday afternoon while I am having lunch with friends. So, I closed the message, put my BB in my bag and carried on with lunch.

This evening, while sorting through my stuff and  getting ready for tomorrow, I remembered about the message. So I read it again. Now, sitting here, tapping my keyboard, my mind a flurry.

You see, friend no 2, the friend in question, sent me a message sometime ago asking me to comment on an issue that relates about her and her family. Then, I told her that I  simply do not wish to comment because it is not my place to comment on a personal matter, in particular, something that relates to her family whom I am not close to at all.  Then, friend no 2, sent another message to say she’s off to Mauritius and promised me that she would visit my family to check on how they are doing (since she will be staying there for three weeks). Oh that’s nice of her (I thought), so I phoned my family to say friend no. 2 is coming. My mother got excited of course expecting a visit from a long time friend.

So, friend no. 2, I saw on Facebook has been having a jolly old time in Mauritius.  When I happened to phone my mother again, mother mentioned that she had been trying to contact my friend no. 2 if only to ask how she is doing; but in all her attempts she’s either sleeping, shopping, tired to come to the phone, or is somewhere else.

Anyway, friend no. 2 flies back and sent me a message to say, she was too busy sorting out her own family problems and was not able to visit my family. Fair enough, if so, but don’t dare put your boozed out photos online for all to see.

Anyway, when I phoned home again, my aging mother told me that she tried one more time to phone my friend no. 2, and unfortunately she had already left for the airport.

So, when I read the email from friend no. 1, I had to sigh. I think under best circumstances, I was doing everyone a great favour by keeping my mouth shut, err, by ignoring friend no.2’s message.

You see, the problem with friendships these days is it is so thrown out there in the open, for everyone to see, for everyone to judge. And everyone expected to be “Liked” all the time.

Well, I don’t expect everyone to “Like” me, just as (a reality of life) I don’t really have to like everyone. And that I think is the problem. The problem with the problem is, when you keep your mouth shut, someone would have preferred for you to have said something.

Tap, tap, tap…

Dear Santa

When my son was younger, towards the end of each year, he used to write a letter to Santa listing down the things he would like to have for Christmas. He would leave the envelope in our postbox where the “postman” will collect it to send it to Lapland.

We encouraged this for two reasons: we, mostly I, believed the anticipation of receiving gifts from Santa (here aka Father Christmas) at Christmas is one of the best thrills of being a child. And secondly, by encouraging JAC to write lays down one of the early foundations of learning – writing & spelling.

Two years ago, Santa was busted! thanks to the boys in his school. So for two Christmases past we have simply been eyeballing what he wants for Christmas, and the fun and disappointment comes on Christmas day when he finds out which of his wishes he got.

Yesterday, my son came to me, with a pen and his old Letters to Santa writing pad. He then said -“Mom, I know there is no Santa Claus and it’s was you and dad who buy me the presents. But this year I am writing a letter… .”Then, off to the table he went, and started his letter -Dear Dad, –

The moment was classic.

It is almost that time of the year again. Christmas will always be a special time for me. It evokes mixed emotions – that special time of the year, the chill in the air, the carols, the tree, the gifts received and given. However, it is also at Christmas time when after all the gifts have been opened, the food eaten, when I head back to my room, a sad feeling overwhelms me. But anyway, that’s me.

Let’s talk about our kids…

Do you let your kids believe in Santa or Father Christmas? Why and why not?

The Courtesy of Playdates

Playdates. I struggle to remember my own playdates.  Before I started feeling sorry for myself I felt consolation from the fact that it was a good +/- 46 years ago so I blame my faded memory instead.  When I phoned my mom a few weeks ago I to asked her if she can remember who my early playmates were and how often did I have playdates.

“Playdates!”, my mom exclaimed. “What’s that? No, you didn’t have playdates”. Boohooo, I started to feel bad, my own mother never bothered to schedule playdates for me.  Until she explained –

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