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...

A Father's Love...

I was lying in an almost dark room, trying to make a 2.5 year old fall asleep when out of nowhere I was transported to the time when I was about 5 or 6, lying down on my Pakcik's (arwah) bed in Nenek's house and Ayah was rubbing my back, trying to put me to sleep. And I remember feeling so sad when he did that because I knew then that when he tried his best to put me to sleep at Nenek's house, it would be the time for him to travel to Johor Bahru where he was teaching.

Suddenly, my heart felt heavy and like a million pins pricking my chest, tears rolled down uncontrollably.

I remember those days, the day after he left, I would be sick. I would be feverish, and I would be sad. And Nenek had one cure, that Ayah would leave his last worn kain pelikat or shirt and I would hug that till I fell asleep.

That was me, the little girl who loved her Ayah.

And I still am that little girl every time I am with him.

You see, girls always have that special bond with their daddies. It's the man they would always look up to, the man who would never ever break her heart, the man they know who will love them unconditionally despite them being a failure to the world.

And more than once that I failed. And every time, Ayah has been there silently supporting, ever accepting, always praying for the best for me.

When I gave birth to Azfer, Ayah came to see me at the ward and the first thing he did was he kissed me on my forehead. My eyes welled, but being the tough girl, I hid my tears. I don't think he ever kissed me out of the blue, except after salam raya. For days I would recall the kiss. And every time, I would feel overwhelmed just like when he did it at the ward.

He must have been worried.And he must have been glad.

Over the last couple of years, I have been swamped with work and the kids, and more often now I would be guilty of not asking how he is doing or if he is well. And I would be bogged with guilt and would try to make up by asking trails of dumb blonde questions to cover up.

And nights like this one especially would make the guilt even worse.

I must make the trip home tomorrow, and break fast with him. Would not be the best solution for the guilt, but at least I could see my greatest pillar laugh and talk and that would add to my stock of strength, to be used when I need it most.

That is him to me - my pillar, my rock of rocks.

To all fathers reading this, Happy Ayah, Babah, Abah, Daddy, Papa, Walid, Abi Day, not just today but every day. You are your son's first hero, your daughter's first love.

Ayah and Azfer on Raya 2014

~ A mother's love is unlimited and never fades, but a father's love gives you strength to go on with life. ~

Ending 2014 with A New Pledge

Havent been here for so long.

Been really out of touch with my emotions since the little boy came into my life. He has been the center of my universe, the one that takes away all the pain. I have never been so in love with a being.

But I reserve that for later.

Only lately, I feel amiss. I feel that I miss myself more and more. I miss my voice, I miss my writing.

So here I am, towards the end of 2014, starting off with a pledge to start writing again.

:D

Envy...

Sometimes I would think - if we are envious of others with their lives, are there people envious of ours?

:\

My Professional Page

Finally got the my professional page up. Although it's just another blogspot page, but that would suffice for the time being. Was thinking of getting a real website, but then the 'boss' would make some noise that I am not using the company website instead. :P

So for those who are looking for a freelance technical writer/copywriter/editor/business analyst (yeah, i know, i know, mumbo jumbo, right?), do contact me. You can find my credentials here:

http://ainaothman.blogspot.com

I chose to call myself a pseudo-writer because most of the those I wrote never bear my name. Can't quite claim them as mine but I honestly feel safer to brag that way. Ahak!

"Why do you want to stay out of the country?"

Was in Spain recently.

As I had expected, I left Barcelona after a 10-day stint with an empty heart. Although I was glad to get home to my girls and normalty, I knew my heart will not be full again for a while.

And I guess it has been noticeable for the last many years that I look forward to be out of the country that I was thrown the question "You love to be away, don't you? Why do you want to stay out of the country?".

*sigh*

You see, I love Malaysia to bits. I am proud that I was born a Malaysian - with all its ethnicity, colors, (heat), everything minus the politics, of course. I would stand at the Autogate with my passport, tall with pride to have with me a Malaysian passport. I would gleam with awe every time I pass KLCC, especially at night, just like each and every tourists who came and took picture of it. I love my country for all that it's worth. It holds for me the opportunity to find my dream; it gives me the freedom to choose how to live my life.

So why is it that I still love to stay out of Malaysia?

Despite the good things it offers me, Malaysia gives me a connotation of hurts, pains and sadness. Something that I cannot run away from, however I want it. Whenever I step foot on Malaysian soil, it's always the feeling of forlorn and grief that would greet me first. It's like the hard cold reality slapping on your face telling you to wake up and to forget that dream of a perfect life.

And it tells you that a perfect life never existed.

Life outside of Malaysia gives me this sense - a perfect life. No sadness, no anger, no grief, no hurt. Life outside of Malaysia relieves me from the emotional pain that I have been carrying for so long. Life outside Malaysia tells me that as long as I am stepping on their soil, hurt is gonna be minimal.

So there is the answer. The one answer that I have had with me for so long. Now you know...

Rezeki...

Yesterday, I was accused of not believing in that it is God who provides and not human.

Little that the person knows that even though I do not spell it out loud, it is my daily belief that rezeki datang dari Allah. And little that the person knows that every single day, I count my God-given blessings.

To me, blessings do not come only in monetary form. It comes in many shapes and sizes. It comes when you less expect it, it comes to brighten your day and reminds you that Allah still cares.

Just like this evening.

Being a freelancer nowadays render me tight cash-wise. But the kids wanted to eat roti canai and I thought, why not. Before leaving, I gathered all the small change I usually dump in my handbag, calculating the massed amount while putting them in my purse. Enough for tea, I thought.

Upon arriving at the mamak stall, the girls were tempted to order other kinds of food. My mother once told me not to be calculative with the girls, or anyone for that matter, when it comes to food. Not that I ever have. Her words played in my head as I nodded in agreement to the girls' requests, at the same time doing some mental calculation if I had enough in my purse.

I resorted to just a glass of teh ais. I can make a simple dinner at home - let the girls have what they want.

Food came; the girls enjoyed their lunch-cum-tea.

Then an old friend walked in with his wife. We've bumped into each other many times here - they would sit and have teh tarik while waiting for their daughter to finish school and I would always walk in for a roti canai or two.

The couple sat at their own table for a bit, had something to eat and left in just a matter of minutes. As I waved them both goodbye, my friend stood at the cashier's and gestured to include us in his bill.

There you go. Rezeki memang datang dari Allah - it comes in many shapes and sizes; it comes when you less expect it; it comes to brighten your day and most of all, it reminds you that Allah still cares.

So, since I was accused as a non-believer just because I never say it out loud, lemme just say this once and for all - in my life, rezeki bukan datang dalam bentuk duit saja- it comes in the form of friends, their thoughts, their concerns. It comes in the form of a pack of durians from my next door neighbor; it comes in the form of a ride from a neighbor some doors away. It comes in the form of job offerings from strangers; it comes in the form of knowledge and advises and a spiritual course that helped me through the rough patches.

But most of all, in my life rezeki memang datang dari tempat yang tak pernah diduga.

Alhamdulillah...

2012: A New Beginning or Life is Just the Same?

Another year. But it feels the same.

Same pain, same hurt. Things are not going to be different just because it's a different year.

Same monkeys giving the same kind of pain.

*sigh*

Will this ever end?