Memory Non Grata

Tonight the flood gate was opened.

A distant, sad memory was mentioned and I found myself lost in melancholy.

Some 17 years back, in this very house, two young but eager couple started out on their lives. They had a month-old baby girl, who was the epicenter of their dream.

But life was hard for the couple. The husband had just quit his job to pursue his dream of having his own business, while the wife just became the victim of the economic downturn. When other young ones their age was trying to live the dream that they had upon graduation, this couple had to face the difficulties of their own making.

No income, but big dreams.

The house was gloomy, and empty. It reeked of spores and dampness. It was dark, it had no life, it was bare.

The couple survived daily on curry puff, bought for 20 sen a piece, 5 pieces at a time. And that was it. That was breakfast, that was lunch, that was dinner.

Once the wife's mother came to visit and handed her RM50 to buy rice.

The wife was sad, but she stood by her husband and stood tall by his dreams. She stood tall of supporting his need to prove himself worthy, despite she herself could have run back to her parent's and escape the difficult life.

That distant memory, at that very instant, pricked me like a thousand needles.

Tears slowly welled up, and one drop made it thru.

It was a difficult time, which I chose to forget. It was a difficult time, which I chose to not use as a lesson in life. It was a difficult time, but none as difficult nor as complicated as it is now.

On Letting Go...

Suddenly it dawned to me that I have to let go...

I have to... and I must.

I have to let life takes its own course. And to trust that that with lots of love and dua, the Greater Power will not let us down.

Not an easy feat, but I would rather lepaskan than get myself hurt along the way.

As though I havent been hurt enough already.

Budaya Compare-Mengompare

Omaigawddd tolonglah!

Whatsapp penuh dengan pertanyaan "How did your daughter do? Anak I dapat bla bla bla".

Kenapa kena tanya?

Kau ada nampak tak aku tanya kau pasal anak kau?

Kenapa kena compare?

Ada tak aku tanya anak kau puasa penuh? Anak kau solat sunat tak tetiap hari? Anak kau start puasa masa berapa tahun? Anak kau prihatin tak pasal isu-isu semasa masyarakat? Ada ke aku tanya anak kau tau tak cemana susah nak cari RM10 yang dia senang-senang boleh buang macam tu je kat Coolblog?

Please.

Straight A's does not promise a bright future. Opens doors, yes. But never an indicator to a better life. It is what the kids do to make themselves better people that would determine their success in life. I have straight A's friends whose lives are just as miserable as those yang tak ada A's. Ada je yang tak de A hidup just as happy as those of straight A's.

Ada je yang sekolah MRSM la konon yang sekarang hidup menipu orang.

Ada je yang drop out dari sekolah harian biasa yang hidup kaya raya siap sedekah merata senyap-senyap.

So why compare?

It is just a piece of paper.

Please, lah. I am tired of being diplomatic. It is our rights to remain silent.

I tak tanya, so you don't ask.

Dalam Hati ada Taman

Watched Tulus Ikhlas with Schera tonight.

It was playing half way when we subscribed, so I thought maybe we would be lost in the story line.

Boy, was I so wrong.

Five minutes past and Schera already crying buckets. Uncontrollably.

Which got me thinking of how soft-hearted she is. My once tomboyish little girl actually has a heart full of butterflies and flowers, but she build a solid wall around it to fend off intruders, including me.

Tough one, this one.

My next 6 years will be full of knocking down that solid wall using a small concrete nail and a tiny hammer. And with luck, I probably have a small hole enough to stick my hand in and reach her. Hopefully I get to stick my hand in time. Or I will never get to reach her at all.

Sigh...

For Tisya

I guess I have to resort to writing to you here.

I can't post much on FB anymore as there are so many eyes reading and not so many responding. I can't be looking like I am pooling sympathizers when I post a status about you. I don't need people to judge my parenting style; though I am not perfect, I believe I have been pretty much on track with you the last 3 years. Nor I want people to console me and tell me that I have done so much and that we both deserve a pat on our back.

I just want you to know that despite whatever result that you will see on that piece of paper this coming 3rd March, it is just a piece of paper.

I know you have tried your best, though probably not the very best, but we both know it was not an easy journey for you.

And the journey is not going to stop here.

And the journey is not going to be any easier from here on.

Life is going to be tougher for you; expectations are going to be higher. Heavier responsibilities from all angles - financial, emotional, physical, mental, everything. And we both know, more often than not, either of us are going to stumble, cry, wail, give up, but we also know that we are going to hang on, crawl on both hands and feet, scour for all strength and get back on our feet eventually. And we both know too, that I have your back. All the time. No matter what. You know that I will always be here to set you straight, to remind you that Allah exists, and to push you to believe in yourself even when you feel like no one else does.

If you ever fall this 3rd, please remember that there is always hikmah in everything. There is always a reason for everything to happen, though we will only see it in retrospective. Allah closes one door for you, but He opens better doors after. Trust in Him, bersangka baik pada Allah for He knows what is best for all of us.

Even if you don't fall, take this past journey as a lesson. Learn your weaknesses, harness your strengths, realize your potential. Move on, move forward. Repeat what you did right and avoid those you did wrong. Not only in your next phase of education but also in life -- no matter in any friendship, relationship or any kind of ships that may float you. :)

Always, always remember what I said to you the day you came back from your Add Math paper: It does not matter to me how many A's you score. I am already proud of who you have become, of who you are. You have come a long way from where you first started. To me, you have already scored A in life as a teenager, and no other A's can top that. I will always be proud of you for your efforts in trying to become a holistic person, of trying to be a better daughter, of being a human.

Keep pursuing that A in your next phase in life, insya Allah, you will do well.

And though I hardly hug you, kiss you or tell you that I love you, please in whatever situation, in any kind of weather, remember that you, Sofya, Schera and Azfer are always in my heart, my top priorities and loves of my life.

I will always pray for your happiness, your success and place in Jannah, till my dying breath.

With all my love,

Mama

Not Too Late for 2016

Haven't been here for far too long.

I miss those nights when I would be typing away in the wee hour of the night, digging into my deepest emotions, finding words from the dictionary that best fit my feeling, and feeling all exposed and relieved at the same time when I click the Publish button.

Too much has happened.

There was SPM 2015.

There was girl-falling-for-boy-but-boy-does-not-respond issues.

There was the trip that almost never happened.

There was the elation of a first pay, the frustration of dealing with racism, demotivation... a lot.

Emotional turmoil.

I was also topsy turvy by the turmoil, despite the fact that I was supposed to be the adult who has lived the last 40 years or so and should have been more grounded, more stable, more experienced so to speak.

But I was not, and I haven't been.

And so I let these emotions get to me and pin me to the ground. It was like I was the one growing up, it was like I was the one who just left school.

Had to pull myself up to get to work on most days, and mind you, work isn't that far for me. And that has been difficult.

Sleep has been my dearest friend, consoling me with dreams of love and laughter and contentment.

And all these invoke the youth in me that had been buried alive the last many decades. The youthful me, the one longing to love and be loved, the one hoping for a fairy tale life.

But dealing with it at 40 (or slightly off), is hell compared to when you were 20. Hell. Full stop.

I tried walking it off; I tried sleeping it off; they just don't work anymore. Hell. Pure hell.

Then I realized, the one thing that kept me sane through those hell days back in 2010 was writing the feeling off.

So, there. My answer. And I have been missing that me when I type away in the wee hour of the night, wearing off those numbing feeling in my chest.

Sigh...