Dearest Mak

Dearest Mak,

Its been 15 days since you went home to Allah. I pray He has placed you among the righteous and pious. So many people prayed the same for you, Mak. So many people wept over your passing. So many people fell over each other to care for you. That just goes to show how much you were loved. I don't think its possible for me to ever stop loving you.

Before there were anyone else, there was just you and me. I remember fondly how you cared and loved me. Despite everything that happened in between the years, there was nothing that you did that made me feel unloved by you. 

From you I learned how to be a strong, independent woman who won't take shit from anyone. You taught me so many things but you didn't teach me how to live without you. I feel your presence in my life after your passing. Somehow, I also feel Wan's presence in my life too. 

Mak, you were there to witness how your brother treated me. When your brother shouted at you and I defended you, I was shouted at also. When you were taken away from under my care, they broke me. I kept remembering how you once told me about your dream where your sons planned to place you in a nursing home. I was so traumatised when I was told you were on your way to a nursing home with the hired caregiver. No one pacified me. And they did that on my birthday! I didn't even get to celebrate my birthday with you. I was so broken until I had suicidal thoughts and trauma. I thought of jumping in front of a speeding car to end all the turmoil I was experiencing. Jasmene was quick to take me to see my psychiatrist who then prescribed me some added medications to help me climb me from the darkness. Of course they don't really understand or empathise with what I was experiencing coz its not as obvious as cancer. Sometimes I wish I had cancer instead of major depressive disorder and complex PTSD.

My psychiatrist advised me to move out of the house urgently because he said I won't be able to heal for as long as I was living in a very toxic environment. So, Jasmene acted fast in securing a condo for us to move into. Coming up with the deposit for the condo was such an insurmountable challenge that I had to beg and borrow to just afford the moving. As a result, the house was left behind like a crime scene. 

When they took you away from me, everyone went silent and no one communicated with me, Mak. I didn't know they were gonna move you back into your own home. And honestly, I had no means to even pay for a cleaner to clean the house. The house was just too expensive for me to afford continuing living in it.

Mak, I have done everything that you wanted me to do: move into your home and take care of you as your health declined. When you were living with me and my family, we had a lot of laughs and plenty  of happy memories. Caring for you during COVID-19 was made easy by Allah when I was able to withdraw money from my old age fund with which I spent a significant amount repairing the house and buying your necessities. I don't have a single guilt nor regret because I know for a fact that I went above and beyond my capacity as your primary caregiver during the lockdown years.

Mak, I can hear your voice giving me the same old advice: "Do the best you can and if that's not good enough to others, tough luck!" I also hear Wan's voice saying what he said to me years ago while we were in London. He said, "You do good for the whole of your life and people won't remember it. But when you do one thing wrong, they will remember it for the rest of their lives." How poignant, isn't it? People are so quick to judge how I was responding to their manipulations and toxic abuse. People are quick to judge me for something they aren't willing to endure themselves. So I left.

With your passing, the tug of war that involved ugly dramas has ended. Along with it goes the bond that lasted as long as you did. I have ended it by withdrawing myself from that family. I wish I could've died with you, Mak. The pain of losing you is indescribable.

HAJJAH NOORAZAH BINTI AISHAH

30.09.1943 - 30.05.2022

AL FATIHAH

This Too Shall Pass

Most often, we hear this phrase being said to us whenever we are facing something that is extremely challenging. It’s purpose, presumably, is to bring some form of comfort and hope. A form of anticipation that there will be light at the end of the tunnel.

 

I cannot speak for everyone but I, for one, couldn’t really grasp the hope that’s imbedded in that phrase. Somehow, to me, it sounded more like something you might say when you don’t know what else to say. Very rarely would this phrase comfort me in any shape or form.

 

Things have been rough for me emotionally and psychologically for the past two years, especially. And Allah knows how traumatised I have been through childhood traumas and such. He allowed these things to happen to me. I take comfort in understanding that THAT meant I am deemed strong enough by Him to survive through the challenges He had designed for me. 

 

In therapy, a counselor is to assist client to gain some form of insight; an inner understanding or introspection on why they are where they are in their lives with all given circumstances and variables. After that, the counselor walks with the client as they process through their inner conflicts, frustrations and disappointments. 

 

This morning, Allah bestowed upon me an inner wisdom. Here it is.

 

In order for the phrase “This too shall pass” to have any value as a psychological resource, one must understand that a bad experience is not tangible. An experience is a memory of what happened. 10 different individuals with the same experience will have 10 different memory of it. So, who is right? Whose experience is more valid than the other? None. All have the same value of fragments of memory.

 

Yes. An experience is intangible. Unless you choose to write it down into a descriptive narrative. I can totally understand why anyone would want to do that. But why would anyone want to make tangible a bad experience? 

 

“This too shall pass” means you need to allow the experience to pass through you without leaving any residue or sediment within you. That would mean you need to allow it to pass through you several times until it changes from being a bad experience to a life lesson. Bad experience did not happen to you. Bad experience just happens. There’s no need to make it about you. 

 

So, do write down happy experiences, thoughts and moments. Write down everything you want to be reminded of. Design your memories.

Under One Roof

I am pretty certain that many have been actively blogging over the past week since the "Stay Home, Save Lives" global movement. COVID 19 has brought the world we know to a standstill. As humans struggle to fight, medicate and survive this pandemic, it has given earth a chance to breathe again. I am not about to go down the "Nat Geo" path of docu-blogging. Far from it. I have had the chance to observe myself in this lockdown.

I am not surprised that I feel at home being confined to home. The introvert side of me is darn happy. I am contented to have all my kids all around me, working from home. Of course I am observing members of my family under the same roof with me and how they are coping with this newly imposed movement control. My elder daughter and her husband seem to find working from home with little to no big change. Such is life in the digital age where technology allows work to get done and delivered in the most limitless way. 

Having to shut down the counseling clinic during this duration is pretty hard to me as I find going to work and seeing clients as an escape from the challenges I face being mom's sole caregiver. On the plus side, I do have my daughters to help me with caring for her so I can afford some ME time in the sanctuary of my bedroom. 

I believe we don't need religion to be spiritual; and it is through our spirit that we connect with our Maker. Allah has allowed COVID 19 to happen to PAUSE the noise of life and living. What crosses my mind right now is how grateful I am for the WIFI at home so I am able to make this entry. 

As earth heals safely away from the unrelentingly inconsiderate hands of humans and development, I feel a spiritual renewal happening within me. I believe Allah is giving us a chance to get it right this time around by pushing the RESET button. Time for us to really ponder upon what truly matters to us.

So I have taken this opportunity to set my home in order by clearing and decluttering. Throwing out what no longer has purpose or value and organising my treasures in ways that are pleasing to my eyes and calming for my soul. I have felt this peace of mind once before. It was when I was in Mecca in July 2007. However, I failed to make it last after I returned to Malaysia. I admit I got distracted by my surroundings. Something I believe will happen once all this home quarantine is over. People will get distracted again. And again. And again.

Maybe mindfulness is easier to be achieved by someone who has retired from work and have their children all grown up. But maybe if we believe it is something important enough for us to master, we will be able to be actively conscious of what we are thinking, feeling and doing; not only to others but most importantly to ourselves. 

This may mark the end of the world we knew and the beginning of a new one. But if we don't start thinking about the consequences of our choices and actions, we will grow old in despair instead of with dignity. 

Take this time to think about what kind of a world we want our children to live in and start creating it now. May Allah continue to be gentle on us all, insya Allah.

We Are A Family Living Under One Roof.

"I Want To Go Home To My Father."

Today was very challenging to Mom. She was restless and anxious. She kept saying "I need to go home soon." as she caressed the side of my face with tears in her eyes. Regardless of how many times I explained to her that she is home, that she's living in her own house, she insisted that she needs to go home. "I am old now", she said, as she wiped the tears off her eyes.

Ater a few minutes of me in the bathroom, I came out to find that she had changed her clothes from the home-wear kaftan I had put on her after morning shower into a pair of baju kurung; as though she was ready to go out. She was pacing the compound of our home restlessly. This spurred me to do a little research by googling "what to do when alzheimer's patient looks for deceased parent"

I came across an article titled "3 Tips When Someone With Dementia Wants Her Mom or Dad." It went on to explain the following:
"Think of the young child who wanders off in the store. All of the sudden, she looks around and begins to cry because she's lost and doesn't know where her mom is. While we don't want to treat a respected older adult like a child, it can be helpful to remind ourselves that this lost feeling is similar to what they're experiencing."

I met her at the main door and persuaded her to come in. She said, "I want to go home to my father's house." My heart broke into a million pieces. I coaxed her into sitting on the sofa with me. As I held her hands in mine, I looked deeply into her eyes and said," Mom, grandpa passed away 8 years ago." Her eyes reflected the abyss of unspeakable loss.

Ever since mom lived with us, I have been applying all the knowledge I have in psychology and putting into practice the caregiving skills I had acquired over the years. I have seen how Behavioural Therapy such as classic conditioning and positive reinforcements have shown a reasonable amount of improvement in mom's behaviour. Currently, I am also using Reality Orientation in Alzheimer's and Dementia. It's an approach where the environment, including dates, locations, and current surroundings, is frequently pointed out and woven into the conversations with the person. Reality orientation, when used appropriately and with compassion, can also benefit those living with Alzheimer's or Dementia.

The tools for reality orientation aim to reinforce the naming of objects and people as well as a timeline of events, past or present. This typically involves:

• Talking about orientation, including the day, time of day, date, and season
• Using people's name frequently
• Discussing current events
• Referring to clocks and calendars
• Placing signs and labels on doors, cupboards, and other objects
• Asking questions about photos or other memorabilia

I am pragmatic enough not to have much expectations regarding the impact of the above on my mom considering that she is already at a late stage of Alzheimer's. Yet, I refuse to simply just give up on her as how she never gave up on me when she was teaching me the basic skills in life.

I made a few phone calls to mom's cousins and got them to speak to her on the phone. Perhaps she is looking for familiar faces. Perhaps she is looking for past connections. After all, I truly believe that connections are like bread crumbs that leads us back home when we are lost.

It's okay, mom. No matter how lost you may be feeling right now, I got you. And I will always be your one and only daughter. May Allah bless mom with syifa, always. 

Looking for Mom in Alzheimer's Forest

Ever since my mom has been living with me, I hardly get to see her. Every day, I deal with the disease that manifests itself in the most back breaking, exasperating and exhausting daily routine. I look forward to showering mom and dressing her. Meal times is extra challenging as she never knows what she wants to eat and sometimes refuses to eat what is served. This has given me an opportunity to choose my battles and let go of petty stuff. 

Early December when mom moved in with us, she would clean her face with tooth brush and toothpaste instead of brushing her teeth. A week after I started her on Calcium Magnesium tablets at night, she now brushes her teeth and that is a huge improvement on her part and a massive achievement for me!

She still confuses the trash with the laundry basket. That's an ongoing conditioning process. She doesn't resist putting on her disposable diaper underwear although there are times she gets cheeky and takes one off without putting on another. Another ongoing conditioning process.

A week ago, I started her on Evening Primrose Oil plus Fish Oil as a supplement for her to take after breakfast. Earlier this evening, I was watching television with her and a trailer for a movie was showing. "The Garden of Evening Mists" made me decide that I wanted to go watch it at the cinema. I asked mom what she thought about the film and she said, "The story is very interesting!" And in my head I went, "WOW!!!" Your guess is as good as mine whether the EPO plus Fish Oil has anything to do with this mental clarity.

I decided to take advantage of that window of lucidity of her mind to explain to her about what she's going through. She showed clarity of understanding when I explained to her about Alzheimer's disease and reminded her how her own maternal grandmother suffered the same. She remembers that. 

So, in day filled with routine of bathing, dressing, cleaning, washing, laundry, mopping floors, wiping soiled upholstery etc, whenever my spinal pain and body aches become obvious to her, the maternal instinct in her kicks Alzheimer's ass and she attends to my pains and comforts me in a way only a mother sincerely can.

I have been watching a lot of documentaries on Alzheimer's to learn ways of how I can do better by her. One that sticks in my mind is one about Edwin Honig; First Cousin Once Removed. Many things he said were so profound and the impact is long lasting.

"Edwin Honig: [YOUNGER EDWIN On video recording] I'm Edwin Honig and I've been around for 70 years, so I think. I've been a poet and writer... Born in Brooklyn, NY, September 3rd, 1919... Abraham Lincoln High School 1935... City College of New York... University of Wisconsin at Madison. Studied English... 

Edwin Honig: [OLD EDWIN] Who's this? 

Edwin Honig: [YOUNGER EDWIN, Continuing in background] ... graduated in '41, BA in Latin American Affairs, Spanish and Political Science. 

Alan Berliner: [Voice] He's the man who you once were. 

Edwin Honig: [YOUNGER EDWIN, continuing] "... 2-1/2 years, Second World War, European Theater. University of Wisconsin, MA in... 

Edwin Honig: [OLD EDWIN] I'm not impressed. 

Edwin Honig: [YOUNGER EDWIN, Continuing] ... Editor of 'New Mexico Quarterly'. Did I mention getting a Guggenheim? 

[Small laugh]

Edwin Honig: Got a Guggenheim. Got a year off writing fiction, allegory, satire. Went to Harvard... 

Edwin Honig: [OLD EDWIN] He's trying to be someone. 

Edwin Honig: [YOUNGER EDWIN, Continuing] Brown University. Professor of English and Comparative Literature. Director of the writing program... Experimentation. Started a small press, Copper Beach Press. Published a good many books, one on allegory. 

[Long Pause]

Edwin Honig: I've forgotten the title. Before I knew it, 26 years had passed. Retired in 19... 

Edwin Honig: [OLD EDWIN] He knows what to do with his head. I don't."

Life is indeed a cycle. We were born as infants with no memory or understanding about our surroundings and yet we have our lives ahead of us. As we become children, we have great memory of many things and mostly living in the here and now with no worry about our future or regrets of the past. When we reach adulthood, our capacity to remember grows and we have developed the skill to multi task: thinking about our past mistakes and making sure we don't repeat them, planning for the future with great amount of anxiety about the uncertainties in life; and topping that off, totally distracted from the here and now and we wonder where time went as we reach old age. At old age, we have little to no memory of what we had for lunch but have no problems reminiscing on how wonderful our childhood years were. But we have nothing but the here and now, as tomorrow is never promised to us. Just living out each passing day doing things to keep us feeling useful for as long as our frail bodies and fragile cognition allows us to 'keep busy."

Everyday, in my battle with Mom's Alzheimer's, I search for my mom fervently, waiting to connect with her so she knows how much she is loved. Because although she may not have a choice with regards to the cards she was dealt with, I can always do better by her. And that's what I shall continue to do until she needs me no more.

My Motherless Mother

More often than not, I am known for being my father's daughter. The world doesn't know how much more significant the influence of my mother, Noorazah Abdul Aziz, has on the making of who I have become today. Let me begin by telling her story.

Her mother died of pneumonia when my mom was barely three years old. With a brother who is a year younger than her, the duo was the center of a tug of war between two sets of grandparents who are as opposites as chalk and cheese. With a father who was obviously grieving over the loss of his wife and pressured by his own parents to agree to an arranged marriage, we can only imagine how it must be like for these two children back in 1946.

My mother suffered multiple abuses at the hands of those who were entrusted with her care, namely her father's wife. As they couldn't have children of their own between them, they adopted several children, starting with my grandfather's wife's niece. And while these adopted children were cherished and treated with the best, my mother, on the other hand, was treated very poorly, to say the least. Being married to my father wasn't a bed of roses either. Survivors of narcissistic personalities will tell you how their wounds are life long and a never ending trauma.

She showed me how a strong single mother looks like when she singlehandedly brought up my brothers and I after my father divorced her in 1978. She did it with almost no child support from my father. She pawned and sold her jewelry to afford medical care for us and thought nothing of it. She made her life decisions with our best interest at heart.

Thinking back on what my mother had gone through from her early childhood into her middle adulthood, its no wonder she has stage 6 Alzheimer's disease now. It began with a mild stroke she suffered when her father passed away in 2012, followed by several falls. I believe it is Allah's mercy upon her to help her live the remaining years of her life with no traumatic memory whatsoever.

You will find that all the above paragraphs contain repetitions of the word "suffer." The above story wasn't written with the intention to paint a bad picture of anyone. It just so happens that my mother's experience with all those involved in her life were not materials of happy memories.

As I look towards 2020 with my mom, caring for her as how she did me; being patient with her as how she was with me; I feel honored and blessed with this golden opportunity to be there for her in ways I hope my two daugthers will be for me. I am eternally grateful to both my brothers for taking care of mom during her decline, which I believe, must be the hardest phase of all. As they continue to support me in my caring for my mother, I cherish the bond between my brothers and I, something money can never buy. My mother does not need fame and fortune to validate how much she has given in the name of love and loving. In my eyes, she is my true superhero and her super power is resilience. May Allah continue to bless her with the best of dunia and akhirat. Ameen.

Don't Tell Me How to be a Private Practitioner!

"Theory is a major element in professional knowledge. Doubts about its value reported by practitioners raise questions at a critical juncture in the careers field about the relevance of prevailing theories and how they are approached. The topic of the relationship between theory and practice is a sensitive one in the debate on competencies and an illuminating one in that on post-modernism. As recent studies demonstrate, problems in integrating theory and practice arise in training and may persist, but experienced practitioners achieve ‘fusion’ between them and become ‘practical theorists’. Practice is improvisatory, and is refined by frameworks provided by theory, critical thinking and ‘reflective practice’. However, theories are often tardy or irrelevant, and practitioners also need to be able to carry out their own research, including action research. This has implications for initial and in-service training, supervision and policy, and for the relationships between researchers, theorists and practitioners." (Audrey Collin (1996) Re-thinking the relationship between theory and practice: Practitioners as map-readers, map-makers—or jazz players?, British Journal of Guidance & Counselling, 24:1, 67-81, DOI: 10.1080/03069889608253709)

Let's get something straight. A registered and licensed counselor in Malaysia has several job options: organizations, education and private practice. Counselors who work in organizations as career counselors earn a monthly income, regardless of how many counseling sessions they clock in a month. Counselors in educational settings would also be receiving monthly salary where the hours spent on counseling is further added with roles of being a substitute teacher. Some might even pursue their doctorate degree that would make them attractive to higher education universities and colleges. They also earn a monthly income which allows them the privilege of providing pro bono counseling as to ensure they do not lose the skills they have acquired through their trainings during practicum and internship. The same cannot be said of those who chose to be their own bosses by taking the huge leap into setting up a private practice.

Many therapists have dreams of one day starting their own private practice. Following through on these aspirations, however, requires taking a number of things into consideration.

There are definite pros and cons. Having worked as a therapist for a number of community organizations prior to having my own private practice, I can attest to the validity of both. Some of the issues to consider include:

BUSINESS CONCERNS

Starting a private practice requires exploring the laws in your city that apply to owning your own business. You will typically need to obtain a business license from the city you live in and renew it on a yearly basis.

WORK SCHEDULE

Owning your own business means having the freedom to limit the number of days and hours worked. However, you also need to be able to accommodate people when they are available to come in, which may require having to work evenings and/or weekends.

MARKETING

Being in private practice requires taking the steps necessary to generate business, which many therapists feel uncomfortable doing. Establishing a web presence is important in order to attract individuals looking for the specific services you offer, the therapeutic approache you use, and any areas of expertise you may have. Effective ways of advertising include creating a practice website, writing a blog, and maintaining one or more professional profiles on online therapist directories such as GoodTherapy.org. All of these efforts take time and some financial investment.

EXPENSES

Going into private practice requires taking into consideration the overhead and other expenses that apply when one owns a business. Some of the expenses to account for include the need to lease office space; the cost of utilities; furnishing the space; marketing efforts; obtaining office supplies and business cards; and the price of medical, dental, and liability insurance. You will also need to decide whether to do your billing yourself, which can be time-consuming, or hire someone to do it for you. If you are just starting out, you may want to consider subletting an office on a part-time basis (for example, on weekends and/or one or two evenings a week) to start building your practice before quitting your full-time job.

FLUCTUATING INCOME

Although a private practice can be profitable, it can also be unpredictable at times. Whereas you are typically guaranteed a certain monthly income when working for an agency or organization, a private practice does not provide the same level of security. The number of individuals seen, as well as the income generated, tends to vary from month to month. It can also take time to build up sufficient business for you to live off of, and you have to set aside money for taxes and/or make quarterly estimated tax payments, as this will not be done for you. You also need to keep in mind you will not get paid for any time off, so you will need to have a cushion set aside in order to account for any vacation or sick time.

Going into private practice can be profitable and rewarding, but it can take a lot of time and energy before you get to that point. The risks associated with any type of business are not for everyone, but the dream of starting your own private practice can become a reality if you are willing to take a leap of faith and put in the work needed in order to succeed.

Source: Good Therapy.

Which brings me to the current pebble in my shoe. People who only know how to teach. They have never been self-employed. They have never been without a boss to make decisions for them. They have never not have a fixed monthly income. They sit on their cushy asses, their noses buried in textbooks they read and vomit to their students. They know theories by hard and accumulate knowledge and yet have no spare time whatsoever to practice the so-called knowledge they had learned. And yet, they have all the time in the world to question the credibility of others who have guts to be enterpreneurial. They believe that just because they are the academicians, they are the only ones who are ethical. They question other people's decision making styles. Their worldview is limited to the four walls of their classes that it is rendered unrealistic in so many unhilarious levels!

I'm Done

I am well aware I am to work on my own weakness during Ramadhan. I understand that this is something that is expected of every muslim. But when they assert their inner aggression and project their frustrations on me, I can still rationalize and maintain patience by reminding myself that kifarah is never comfortable and is meant to cleanse my soul of sins accummulated thus far.

Far from using this as an excuse or a crutch, my struggles with depression is very much real. And with having challenges to refill my prescriptions to manage my condition, it is pushing me extremely close to my limit that I can honestly admit how the only thing I can come up with to be grateful for in a day is having Allah in my life. If it isn't for Him, I can actually run the blade in the correct direction on my wrist that would render me beyond anyone's help.

The ugliness of this world is just too much. Blood ties means nothing to people. Humility means nothing to people. Sincerity means nothing to people. If it doesn't bring millions of money or high social status, it has no value. Empathy is a rare thing to find in people nowadays. All that people care for are their own selfish "what's in it for me?" attitude. Its so glaringly clear how this world is a prison.

Day by day, people push me further and further to the edge of the cliff. It makes me wonder why I even bothered to save people's lives when they don't care for their own precious lives. I am beyond being angry and hurt. I am indifferent.

Do whatever you want. Its your life. Knock yourself out and fuck it up. I don't want any part of shit like that.

From Daughter to Wife

I remember the moment I realized I was pregnant of you. Scamper the cat kept sniffing at my belly. And then came the craving for caviar. And honeydew at 2 am that made your dad pull his hair. Followed by seven months of all day nausea and the discovery that I can no longer tolerate the smell of durian.

You were determined right from the get go. Eagerly burrowing your head out and refusing to wait for the doctor to arrive. You were impatient. And when you came into this world with knitted brows as though you were upset with the international stock market, I knew that you were to grow up to be a very intelligent, assertive, confident and loving go-getter.

Fast forward 26 years and now you are a wife to the love of your life. Your dad and I couldn't have asked for a better man to be your husband and our son. James may not be perfect but he is imperfectly perfect for you. On this day, your dad and I feel so blessed.

Here, I share with you the letter Paul Newman wrote to his wife on their wedding day:

Take care of each other, my children. Remember how precious you are to us.

- Mama and Ayah.

9th January 2019

Let. God. Drive.

After 3 years of working as a full time lecturer at a private university, I have decided to go back to my private practice. Many questioned my decision, mostly were concerned with my future finances. I guess its fair for them to worried, given that they don't know how well Allah has been providing for me before my full time employment.

Private practitioners were, and are still, seen as 'risk takers.' Many do not see private practice as "real work" simply because it lacks a fixed amount of monthly income. Private practice is also flexible with regards to working hours. However, during my full time employment stint, I have come to realize how draining work can be. It can certainly kill any passion you may have for your profession. Work/life balance is almost non-existence and self-care is often left out of our priority list. We struggle to make time for those we love. And the reason why we cry at funerals of our loved ones is guilt. Guilt for not spending enough time with them while they were still alive and well.

I saw my spiritual wellbeing deteriorate during my full time employment. I also saw how quickly my mother's memory spiralled downwards to the point where she wasn't able to do the usual tasks she was able to do for herself. That was when I had to stop. Enough was enough. I need to refocus on what truly matters in my life.

I am grateful for the times I spent nurturing and guiding young counselors into professionals with optimum potentials. I have met many beautiful souls during my years in that university and I do not regret that one bit. But as I have taught developmental psychology as a subject for 3 years now, I am well aware of whats coming in the future. Everyone ages and eventually, everyone will die. We were born, we live, we age, and then we die. But what will be remembered most by others is how much we have touched their lives.

I am grateful for the chance to continue lecturing on a part time basis. This way, I will only need to teach one subject per semester and still do counseling in my private practice and strike an awesome balance in life. God is important to me. My family is important to me. I am important to me.

I feel very blessed to have witnessed so much growth in my students. Those who started out struggling with personal challenges have now bloomed into very caring, empathic, and very professional individuals. I am immensely proud of each and every one of them. I truly am.

Now, as 2018 draws to an end, I eagerly look forward to next year. An abundance of contentment through new additions to the family, daughters working at building their own muscles to fly, and finally, making my dream come true for MY Confidential. Last but not least, continuing my work in crisis intervention.

How do I feel about the future? Am I not worried about the uncertainties in life? For as long as Allah is driving my car, I will continue to be in good and safe hands. Keep the faith. Trust in Him. Hold on tight.

Smile.

The Beauty in Being Broken

This quote explains why I have been in a creative rut lately. I guess my medication for depression and anxiety are very effective. Even my designs in Design Home game is suffering! This should be good news, right? Yes..... Then, why am I writing an entry today?

I glance out my office window that overlooks a scenic view Damansara Heights. A field of roofs glistening under the scorching hot sun. I draw a deep breath and think of my need to say something today. I know what it is about. I just need to compose it as eloquently as possible. You see, its not just important that people understand what I am trying to say. What's most important is that everyone understands me exactly as how I want them to understand. Therefore, the burden of explanation weighs heavily on my shoulders.

I stand up and walk out my office room. I need to think. I need something to do while I think. I head straight for a money plant that is swimming in a clear glass vase filled with mossy green water. I pick it up and head for the Ladies. My head entertaining words and phrases. Yes. I see words in my head but visuals in my eyes. That does not need to make sense to anyone else.

I am back at my desk and well aware that depression has been following me for quite a while now. I have successfully ignored it until last night. But today, it follows me to work. Logic tells me I cannot afford to have a depressive crash right now. I have too much work to get done. I have two subjects to teach this semester. I cannot afford to have depression right now. Somehow, it always comes at an ill opportune time. Which beckons the question, "Is there ever a good time for depression?"

Last night I watched Split 2016. James McAvoy was superb in his portrayal of Kevin and his 23 other personalities. I was intrigued by Dr. Fletcher and how she handled a client with DID. Marvelous! I learned while watching that movie. Something stayed with me. This:

"The broken are the more evolved. Rejoice!" Wow! I have never seen being broken as a reason for rejoicing before. And then I searched for other quotes about being broken. Here are some that illustrate what I am trying to articulate.

Yeah. What they said. That's what I want to write. But it has already been written by so many others. Others who got broken way before me. Others who shine and twinkle like stars in the dead darkness of night. The moon may have its beauty; but its the stars that twinkle and make minds wonder.

I am still unable to string my own words for this entry. I lean on words of others who have suffered long before I did, for much longer than I have. I salute their resolution. May theirs be mine soon.

Farewell 2017

I have been on annual leave since 18th December and my brain is totally relaxed! So much so that I am forcing myself to write a post tonight simply because the next following days will fly in a flurry, filled with events and things to get done before I resume work in the new year. Somehow, I find it challenging to remember what had happened in this year. 

I reviewed the handful of posts I made this year and my memory is jolted to several painful memories. Yes. Grief and loss. Sigh... Now I know why my brain had blocked them out. The pain lingers now as I look at the keyboard, waiting for my brain to string some words together to form sentences. Something that makes sense to me. Something worthwhile writing.

Fast forward from my last entry to the last three months.

Since October this year, I have started a new hobby: playing a game called Design Home. It has become something that I think about first thing in the morning and the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep every night since this adventure began. The thing I find addictive about this game is that it allows me to decorate rooms virtually and be proud of my designs. Its the creative outlet to replace everything else that I can no longer do: singing.

The game isn't without flaws. The voting system sucks. Voters consist of players with various degrees of interior decorating knowledge. Truth be told, I really don't care much about the scores. I just want to keep on designing. It fills this long time hunger to decorate my home to my heart's content. I thought of posting some of my design work here but I know myself too well that I won't be able to pick just a few. Hence the two photo albums on Facebook that I had dedicated to just that.

Working as a lecturer has become a continuous learning process for me. I learn from my students on how to improve my methods of teaching. I believe I am getting better with each passing semester of this year. Having two career subjects to teach as well as Crisis Intervention Strategies this year has been splendidly delightful. And I am happy to report that I am now the main lecturer to conduct Sensitivity Camps for pre-practicum students. Also, this time around, I get to teach a handful of students on how to conduct such camps.

Has 2017 changed me? Yes, in that I am stronger now to say "No"to things that are no longer right or true. Some may view this as harsh or cruel. But I need to do whatever it takes to take care of myself. My family needs me. My students need me. My clients need me. I need me. I have no room in my life for people who are still deciding whether I am worth their loyalty or not.

Who am I now? These practicum students of mine used these words to describe me:

Some of my other students gave me a thank you card, ladened with deeply touching words, at the end of camp.

This is who I am... for now.

... to be continued.

2017: First Quarter of Grief

Something I had not mentioned in my first post for this year is the losses I had suffered since the year began. On January 3rd, my much loved cousin whom everyone called Kak Long (Suhairah Wahiduddin) passed away much too young for her age; leaving her family, relatives and friends from far and wide, grieving. The impact of her unexpected death hit many of us so deeply.

On 20th January, my husband's uncle, Rahim, passed away in Port Dickson, during his morning nap. From the first time I was introduced to him, we had a connection. We would comfortably talk about faith, spirituality and sufism for countless hours. We shared the same interest and love for Allah. He had always mentioned how he looked forward to the day he would return to Allah. Therefore, when the news of his death reached me, I had a mixed feeling of happiness and grief. The day he had been looking forward to almost the whole of his life had finally arrived. But I had lost a father figure. He died during Friday prayers. Masya Allah!

Not long after, on February 1st 2017, someone I befriended exactly 10 years to that date, Syed Omar, passed away after years of fighting cancer. He was buried on a Thursday afternoon. His funeral was attended not only by his family but also royalties and dignitaries. Despite his designation and relations with the royal family, he remained humble and simple.

On the morning of February 24th, I woke up to a message from my friend Helen Yap, that our fellow musician/composer Johan Nawawi had passed away. His death was unexpected and sudden because he had not been unwell. In fact, last my husband and I met him was less than 2 months before and we had a chance to catch up on what's been happening in each others' lives. He died and was buried on a Friday. There were three congregations of prayers done for him on that day! Masya Allah! How he was so loved by everyone.

Despite having lost all these people whom I have known and had touched my life in some way or rather, I managed to keep to my work commitments. Although there were times when I wept in the privacy of my office, I kept ploughing through, managing my grief as best I could. But the last straw that broke this camel's back happened on Sunday, April 2nd at 8:50pm. My much loved kitten that was rescued from the rooftop of University Hospital in August last year and I adopted him and named him Bleu, was hit by a speeding car in front of our home! This was witnessed by my younger daughter and it traumatized her. She was inconsolable for a long time. We all grieved over Bleu's death. There was a pool of blood underneath his cute little head. His blood-filled eyes were open and black. His mouth was open. As I picked his body up from the ground, I felt the last of his breath leaving his little body. I cradled him in my arms and wailed. My chest felt as though something was brutally wrenched out of it. I grieved. I am still grieving. I think I will always grieve over Bleu.

I believe Bleu was an angel. He came into our lives and filled it with love. He was always gentle and considerate. There's not a soul that had met and known him that was not touched by his love. I pondered on why losing a pet hurt so much more than losing a human being. I have come to realize that the reason is because animals don't have the capacity for malice or spite. Nothing more genuine and sincere than the soul of an animal.

I have suffered losses before. Losing Mad had me grieving for more than two years. Maybe because Mad was also someone who had no capacity for malice or spite; at least not towards me. Do I wish I had grieved for Mad for much lesser duration? No. I believe the duration of grieving befits the quality of the soul that we have lost.

What I have taken away from all that has happened is this: I need to prepare myself for my first night in the grave; where there will be no one who can help me. I will be buried alone with only my deeds to speak for me. Henceforth, I have revised and renewed my commitments. I hope, together with my good deeds, Bleu will be there to keep me company in barzakh.

Whatever I have composed today is based on how I am feeling today. May Allah erase from my memory anything that does not benefit me remembering. May He bless me with serenity for my soul and peace for my mind, commitment and loyalty towards Him in my heart so I would remain steadfast in my ibadah for Him, insya Allah.

Wait for mama, Bleu. Meanwhile, do put in a good word for me, ok my son? We will always love and miss you.

De-cluttering

As I browse through the many posts I had written over time since opening my Blogger account, I noticed some that evoked memories I would rather forget. Nothing worth keeping. I believe it is high time for me to delete them. It would be counterproductive to strive for peace of mind and serenity of the heart by holding on to posts that were written while I was in the throes of stupidity. We learn from mistakes but no one in their right mind would treasure them!

Therefore, right after publishing this entry, I will be sweeping through all my past entries and deleting the miserable ones for good. See you all on the other side! 😊

The Gift of Time

My husband has a hobby of gifting me watches any chance he gets. No Rolex or anything of that sort, of course. But time pieces that carry individual sentimental values. The first one he bought was a pair of His & Hers YSL dress watches for our first wedding anniversary.

Needless to say, I wear this to formal events.

The second watch he bought me was upon my request: ICE watch in Black and Gold.

This one was my everyday watch for a long while, for obvious reasons.

The third watch he bought for me was for my 50th birthday, another ICE watch but with BMW design. It just happens to be in the same colour as the 10 year old BMW car he bought me in 2007.

This is my watch of choice whenever I am roughing it up doing outdoor activities. Usually worn with blue Levi's jeans.

And the latest and most expensive purchase he made for me was for my 52nd birthday: an Apple Watch!

I am absolutely in love with this gem! I mean, it makes it a lot easier driving to work and everywhere else now. 

I pondered on the reasons behind my husband's tendencies to buy me a watch any chance he gets. I came to the conclusion its about giving time. Time is the most precious gift anyone can ever gift to you. Its the one thing they can never recover or get back. 

Looking back, hubby has always been there for me. He has always given me the time and space to grow. He was patient during my difficult and most trying moments. In the past, during my depressive years, I had pushed him to make quick decision to let me go. But instead, he stalled for time; giving me the space to regain my equilibrium. He knows and understands me better than I do myself, I must admit. And I am eternally grateful for his gifts.