When I read her update, I was brought back to my primary school years. The girl and I barely talked to each other. The only time we would interact would be pre-Annual Sports Day and the D-day itself. We were in the same sports house and regular participants of the 100-metre sprint race. During every tryout, she and I would always compete against each other. The girl would consistently come in first place, and I second. No matter how hard I ran.

I'm not the happiest that I've been. I know that I'm not doing what I really want to do. Nothing is going according to my "perfect" post-graduation plan. My day starts at 7.20 a.m, I babysit until 5 p.m. (which involves a lot of chasing after my nephew who crawls and climbs onto furniture like rent is due. Seriously, do infants/toddlers ever get tired?), do chores in between, spend time with my family after dinner, and I only have around two hours at night for myself before I get too tired to even watch one anime episode. I'm devastatingly anxious about the future. I'm most certainly not getting married. I feel like the world has moved on while I am stagnant. Everyone else has already achieved something- quick on their feet, while I am nowhere closer to where I want to be. Everything feels like a race. I'm terrified of falling behind. I'm scared of not being able to take the perfect next step that will help me move forward and catch up with the others.

That explains my spiraling into anger, discontent, anxiety- and everything in between. 

I don't talk to many people nowadays; I do have a couple of friends that I stay in touch with. Talking to them has helped me to gradually change my perception on the whole "figuring things out" stuff. Nobody ever has things really, really figured out. If people say that you will know absolutely everything about who you are and what you want to do after four years of degree, I'll tell you this: you know less about who you are and what you want to do after those years- and that's perfectly fine. If I have learnt anything these past few months, it's that the only perfect next step that exists is the one that the Almighty has planned for you.

If the perfect plan that He has planned for me for now is to devote myself to my family, watch my nephew grow into the beautiful boy that he is today, then I will embrace that. I believe in the concept of rizq (sustenance). What's meant for me will find its way to me in the most timely manner. What I can do now is commit to my present responsibilities, keep trying, keep praying, count my blessings, and see the beauty of the present.

"If you are grateful, I would certainly give you more." (14:7)

May we get not what we want, but what we deserve. 

It has been a pleasure with sporadic sprinkles of pain and sorrow to be with you.

When you came, I was eager to make you my year. My soul was full of enthusiasm and excitement to make the most of you. I even bought a planner - all determined to make you as organised as possible. I was also determined to make sure that when you came, every path that I was going to take would lead me to nothing but pure joy and happiness. 

But when you actually raised your curtains, reality dawned on me. It was definitely not going to be a smooth-running show. The audience wouldn't always laugh at my punchlines the way I imagined them to. The props wouldn't always be set in place and on time the way they were during rehearsals. I wouldn't be consistently in tune when I performed the musical numbers. 

Dear 2019, you have been one of the most memorable years - both in the "you've opened a number of doors for me" and the "you've kicked me in the ass" sense.

First, let's talk about how you've been an unforgiving ass-kicker.

You've challenged my emotions to heights and lengths that I had never imagined any year would. I experienced days when getting out of bed felt tiresome and all I wanted to do was sleep to shut the whole world out. I faced days when I had to walk on eggshells and making sure that everything I did was immaculate. I had nights when I became so well-acquainted to the sound of my own sobbing. Even worse, you left me with no options other than having to adjust to having a stranger as a roommate. That just meant when I cried, I had to do it silently. I had to stifle my sobs under my blanket so that I wouldn't wake her. Crying is painful; having to pretend that you're not is even more excruciating. But it's okay. I'm in a better place now.

And hell, you also had a lot of surprises in store for me. I had to rekindle relationships with people I had not met for years. I had to pretend that whatever incidents that took place five years ago were merely fabricated realities, forged out of spite, anger and frustration. I had to go back to places that I hadn't been to for so long. It was not easy. But it's okay. I did (and am doing) those for the people I love.

You've led me down roads where I had to encounter people who seemed to have zero knowledge of what common decency and respect are. Months after your arrival, 2019, I found myself at war with my self-esteem and confidence. I struggled with a negative body image. I became so hateful towards the numbers that I saw on the scale. I became hateful towards myself. When people said "you look fat" to me, I went home and reinforced that statement onto myself. When people held my arms and told me how big they looked, I went home and wished I looked differently. But it's okay. I've learned to be comfortable in my body now. It's one of the hardest journeys I've ever embarked on. I've encountered red lights, but red lights aren't forever.

It's unfair to disclose solely your punches, hits and curses. It's time to talk about how you've also given me remedy and blessings.

Months after your arrival, my family and I moved to a new home. When we moved here, it also meant we moved away from a toxic and suffocating living space - far from demeaning, back-stabbing, two-faced companies. It feels so much freer and happier here. After so long, we finally have a place we can really, genuinely call 'home'.

2019, you've also given me chances to change the way I perceive friendships. I used to feel like I was nothing but an option to my friends, so I was never really good at sustaining friendships. But this year, I have grown closer to my small circle. I can actually be myself! I don't have to uphold and carry the weight of that pretentious image of "having everything together" which had been imposed on me for years. Because I really don't. I'm just as messy and uncertain. And my friends are cool about it. At least I think they are. Oh God, I HOPE they are.

I'm doing fairly well in my studies. Being a TESL major has been....well, challenging, to say the least...but being surrounded by supportive people makes it a lot easier. I've also picked up a new instrument, so my three-piece dream collection is finally complete! And 2019, you've rekindled my love for writing poetry and short stories too. I stayed away from that kind of writing for quite a while, but this year, I've realised that I still have a soft spot for them. Who knows, maybe I'll write a novel one day. And by one day, perhaps...in 2020. Speaking of writing, I've penned some of my favourite lyrics I've ever written in my life. 2019, you've probably awakened the writer in me - the one that had fallen into a deep slumber I thought she would never bother to open her eyes again.

Dear 2019, you've also taught me about relationships. You've made me realise that goodness, I'm a bad communicator. I never say what I feel. And you've taught me to put down my guard and listen and not see every syllable as a battle cry. Even though you made me question a lot of things sometimes, you taught me to pause and reflect. Above all, you taught me to listen, to myself and to the other person.

I think one of the most important lessons that you've given me, 2019, is that I have to learn to say "it's okay" to myself. If I can give away forgiveness so relentlessly and incessantly to other people, I can surely do that to myself too.

So dear 2019, it's okay if you haven't been the best and the most amazing year. It's okay if you didn't treat me the way you treated other people. It's okay if I can't relate to their "this year, I'm the happiest I've ever been" posts. I'm still thankful for you. It doesn't mean I'm any less deserving of happiness. 

So long, 2019. Dear 2020, we'll do better.

My mother fell asleep in the living room tonight.

Usually I would just let her sleep until it's time to wake her up so that she could go to bed. She always has so much to do during the day, so I don't have the heart to disturb her peaceful sleep so soon. But tonight, I felt a bit selfish. I felt like I needed more time with her. I silently and quite foolishly cursed time for passing by so quickly that it was already 10 p.m, which means my mother would no doubt lose to drowsiness - no matter how tough of a fight she tries to put up. And so I went to her. My mother's not a heavy sleeper; the slightest movement and noise could easily wake her up. As expected, she immediately woke up when she felt me near. Instinctively - as if knowing exactly what I wanted - she made way for me and I lied down next to her.

I hugged her as she slowly fell into a slumber again. I closed my eyes and listened to her steady breathing. In that moment, I wasn't a 21-year-old student trying to get a degree in TESL, who's feeling anxious about entering third year and trying to be distracted by listening to music and watching Netflix. I wasn't a girl who's currently battling her inner demons who are ever so adamant in trying to convince her that she's not as strong, positive and happy as she claims to be. In that moment, I was just a daughter hugging her mother - hoping that to her mother, the embrace was as gentle and as loving as those countless hugs she always generously gives to her daughter. 

I don't really remember anything that happened before I was six years old. But that's okay. At least, this limited storage still allows me to recall that one important moment when I was six and God showed me a proof that my mum was indeed a hero. I was waiting for my parents to come pick me up from pre-school. Every one of my friends had gone home and I was the only one left. Then, a couple of older boys came and picked on me because I was much smaller and defenseless. I mean, I only had a yellow belt in Taekwondo at that time, so what could I possibly do? Before it could get any worse, my mum came and saved the day. 

When I was 14, I had to make visits to the hospital to see the orthopedic specialist because my knees were in pain. I had to make appointments for rehabilitation. In the process, I got made fun of because I was too young to experience that kind of pain. But my mother knew my struggles and how painful it was for me. She loyally accompanied me to every hospital visit and every rehab session. She never felt like her time and energy were wasted even though the blood test result came in and no one knew what was wrong with my knees.

When I was 17, I went to a public restroom alone. I'm the kind of person who would check whether there's water or not before proceeding with whatever business I have. Apparently, there was no water that day. So I went out of the cubicle. And I saw my mother outside, with a concerned look on her face. I asked her why she was there, and she said she saw a man coming into the restroom. If she wasn't quick enough, only God knows what could have happened.

I can list down endless examples of how my mum not only saved me from harm that other people could inflict on me, but also harm that I could inflict on myself.

When I was in my final year of high school and preparing for the big examination, she was there for me to make sure that I didn't feel alone. At 8 p.m every single evening like clockwork before I began my revision session, she would make me a glass of iced Nescafe. I would study in the living room and she would accompany me until I was done at 11 p.m. When I came home crying after I sat for that devilishly difficult Additional Mathematics papers and thought I wouldn't be able to get a good grade, she comforted me. She even got me some chicken rice. Honestly, how much better could it get from there?

While I was stressing out over one of the assignments I had to do during my third semester, she stayed up until 1 a.m (which is a rare occurrence) and stayed online on Whatsapp to check up on me. She must have been sleepy and tired and her day would start in five hours; but she was risking it all just to show that she believed in me - even when I didn't believe in myself.

No matter how much I have grown, my mother would always have my back. She still makes iced Nescafe for me as if my life depended on it. Every single time I worry about not doing well in a certain semester, she would comfort me and lift my worries off my shoulders. She's brilliant at being the best of my support system. But then again, she's good at a lot of things. Perhaps the only thing she's not good at is telling me  exactly how much salt I should add to my cooking. 

I hope to be as good, loving, kind and gentle as she has always been to me.

My mother fell asleep in the living room tonight. I lied down next to her, listened to her steady breathing and prayed to God that I would never run out of chances to listen to it.

If I'm being honest, I've always found "self-love" a difficult topic to address. I used to think that preaching about it would make me a hypocrite since finding things that I love about myself was a scrimmage that I couldn't seem to escape from. That's why I truly admire those who can apply that concept so well in their lives. To me, they are almost indestructible. You try to bring them down but they'll rise above it. Deep down, I wanted to be like them. And even deeper down, I was angry at myself that while everybody else seemed so at peace with themselves, I was still in the realm of self-loath.

After I got home for Eidul Fitr and the semester break, I met a lot of people that I hadn't met for years. While my greetings for them would come in the form of polite handshakes, hugs and hello's, their greetings for me were "you look fatter", "why did you put on so much weight?", "look at these chubby arms", etc. Some of them would go so far as to grab hold of my arms and waist to confirm the physical changes that they saw.

I'm not sure if where I live in, that is the socially accepted way of greeting someone you haven't met for a long time. But I just stood still and pretended to be unperturbed. I guess my respect for these people was larger than the respect I had for my feelings. Perhaps some might say that I should have asserted myself and made it crystal clear that I was uncomfortable. But sadly, sometimes assertiveness - despite how necessary it is in such circumstances - would be easily mistaken as sheer impertinence.

It's actually terrifying how big of an impact words can carry. Due to that kind of situation occurring over and over again (I can safely say everytime I meet someone, they would always have something negative to say about my body), consequently I found myself joining those critics as they made comments about my figure. I started to become a highly meticulous critic myself, who refused to let any faults go unnoticed. From solely condemning the size of my body as I looked at my own reflection, I began to abhor my acne-prone skin. I even started to treat my personality traits as a defect in my system. Things like "why am I not as funny as her?", "why am I not more outgoing?" and "I'm not fun to be around" became a mantra that I would repeat time and time again - the way I would put my favourite songs on repeat.

Maybe some people would find this statement disappointing, offensive or just overall bad. Trust me, I don't find it any less disappointing than you would. But I think for one moment, I was almost....angry at God.

That self-loathing and self-downgrading went on for a few months. I'm not exactly the most optimistic person out there, but I can say that I used to be someone who would try to fend off pessimism from overwhelming me. But there and then, ironically, I found myself hitting rock bottom.

At one point after drowning myself in self-hatred, I realised that I was becoming tired of giving those people the authority to govern and navigate my thoughts and how I should view my own body, personality and self-worth. I was also getting drained from the excessive self-deprecating humour that I claim to be my so-called coping mechanism. I was feeding my mind and soul with severely judgemental words. I knew I had to put a stop to it. I have enough people criticising me, so why am I pouring fire on propane? Why should I become an even stricter, a more merciless critic?

If those people are not kind to me, why can't I be kind to myself?

Now back to the beginning of this post. Am I now on the same level as those people who are at peace with who they really are? Absolutely no - and I shouldn't be angry about it. Like everybody else says: self-love is a process - a journey. Making slow progress doesn't mean I'm going nowhere. Even experiencing relapses doesn't indicate failure. Everybody's journey is different. The Earth takes 365 days to make one complete orbit around the Sun; Venus takes 224 days while Jupiter takes 12 years. But each planet makes up a beautiful, breath-taking solar system that's worthy of admiration. 

We are all worthy of admiration - only if we allow ourselves to be so.

Be kind to your body, mind and soul. Have a great week ahead, everyone. 💖

If I thought I knew what exhaustion really means, then I might have to take a step back and re-evaluate. There has been a lot to do these past couple of weeks. I've even developed a more intense love for afternoon naps. Not that it wasn't intense in the first place. 

Anyway, I wasn't really sure what to write about for this post. When I started this blog, I made a promise to myself to post weekly, at the very least, to ensure consistency. I went back and forth from wanting to write an album review to wanting to write a little something on music recommendations. However, there was this one tiny thought that kept on bugging me at the back of my mind - it was almost like pleading me to write a post about it (it's a dramatic description, I know). Here's the thought: life has indeed been quite strange for me.

My sister got married recently. That explains all the hustle and bustle that's been going on. It still feels foreign to me, especially when my sister's the only sibling I have. We have a six-year age gap, which makes it totally understandable if we have very differing point of views towards a lot of things. But she's always been my rock. She gave me my name and taught me how to read when I was five and it took her no more than five hours or so to get me to achieve fluency. She was 11 at that time. When I was frightened to the guts from my very first "sighting" of the moon time, she was the one who taught me how to deal with it. I guess I can say that apart from being my sister, she's one of my very first teachers as well. She's always mistaken as the younger sister and she takes pride in that. I'm always mistaken as the older sister and I'm ready to fight anyone who dares to say so. People say we have the spitting image of each other, but we're far from alike.

And now she's a married woman. Weeks before her wedding, while driving around town, she kept on telling me how worried and scared she was. Not because her colleagues were constantly throwing around R-rated marriage jokes; but it was more towards her worrying about the added responsibilities she would have to bear as a wife, a daughter and a daughter-in-law. I simply told her it would all be okay. I knew from the deepest part of my heart that she would take on all three roles wonderfully. But upon hearing the lafaz akad nikah during the solemnization, a selfish part of me wished that my sister and I were back at the moment when we were driving around town, listening to a whole lot of Taylor Swift, BTS and Hindi songs. When I heard the akad, I could feel how time didn't just flow; it cascaded and God, at that moment I was ready to trade my world for one more Sushi date with my not-yet-married sister. 

Life hasn't exactly been strange because my sister got married to the man she loves. Life has been strange because I never expected that I would feel that way. I didn't think I would be that selfish. But then again, life surprises us in many ways.

I suppose I felt even more overwhelmed when I realised that a greater sense of responsibility has been placed on my shoulders. I never thought that I would feel that way, either. I mean, there is that negative stigma surrounding the youngest child of the family, claiming that we're spoiled and unperturbed, after all. My parents only have me and my sister. As my sister now has more parties to consider other than my parents, I'm now the only child who only has them to think of - at least for now. Hours after the kenduri (a feast for Malay weddings), amidst my lassitude and strong urge to head to bed and call it a day, I recalled how throughout the kenduri, my parents' friends kept on telling me, "You're next." Typically I would have giggled in glee and anticipation. But that night, I just felt fear and sadness creeping in in lieu of the glee and anticipation, especially when I thought of how I would be the last child that my parents would have to 'let go' one day. 

It's not just the post-wedding feelings that made life seem a bit odd for me. This past week has been full of other surprises as well. I happened to reconcile with a few people that I hadn't met for at least six years. The next thing I knew, I was back in my hometown that I hadn't been to in forever. I crossed paths with people that I didn't expect to meet again. I never thought that it would all occur within the span of one week. I was puzzled. I was confused. I wanted to view all of it as mere happenstance, but happenstance doesn't hold that much power to leave you thinking and breaking down at 1 a.m. For someone whose mental state isn't at its very best, it is a lot to take in. 

Hence, I was brought to the realisation that you can never really completely understand God's works. Mystery will always be part and parcel of them. Time will surely unfold the silver linings behind every event and it's okay if you don't have absolute comprehension of what's happening just yet. I mean, I honestly don't really understand why I still have a difficult time adjusting to the fact that my sister is married and the greater sense of the responsibility that I now have towards my parents. And I certainly do not understand the reconciliation that took place a few days ago. But desperately trying to search for the silver linings in every corner isn't going to help, either. The safest way to deal with everything that's going on now is to embrace, accept and believe in the Almighty's plans. 

You've probably had enough of the sentimental tone of the entire post, so here's a picture of me and my sister on the day of her wedding. 

I'll see you in the next post. Take care and have a marvellous day. ❤