More than sticks and stones

Sometimes I just want to know if there's anyone out there who feels the way I do. I know it's normal to face ups and downs, but why do I feel like flinging myself out the open window almost every day? Why do I have this innate need to imagine ending my life in one way or another, and I struggle and battle with it almost every day?

Sometimes that innate need gets so strong I literally harm myself. Although I have been able to restrain myself from doing much harm to myself in a while. In a long while. Which hasn't been easy.

Sometimes I wonder if I just allow myself to take away this self-harming ban I imposed on myself, would it make it easier to go on? Maybe the pain would distract me somehow from the pain I feel inside.

But that's just living a lie.

I'm tired of this struggle. I'm tired of waking up alone and lonely, and knowing that if I disappeared, no one would really care, and that I'd probably have done something better for the world. Sounds like a bout of self-pity, perhaps. But it's just so true. Why do I have to exist to bring negativity around this world? "You always bring people down," an ex used to say angrily. I can't help but hear those words ringing every time I feel down.

So I do what I do best. I stay away from people. And when I do interact with anyone, I throw all my worries away, pack them neatly in a box, and open them again when I am alone. For the truth is, I am a loner. Nobody knows who I am really, and nobody can accept me for who I really am.

I actually wish that there were more people who know me, who loves me, who wants me around. But it's not about quantity, they say, it's about quality. It's true, I have people around me, and I am deeply appreciative of that. I just wish people knew how much they meant to me, and I wish I was as important to them as they were to me. Because it's just as easy leaving me hanging, than to actually take the time to bother.

I shouldn't be surprised. People who claimed to love me more than anything in the world couldn't handle me. Rather than comforting me, they'd rather watch me climb over balconies as I battle internally about whether to jump. When all I need is just to hear you say "Don't." Apparently I don't mean enough to anyone for someone to say "Don't jump. I love you."

Instead, it was easier for them to just walk away, and scoff angrily and say "Do whatever you want to do." What was that? Child treatment? Someone with a mental illness is like a child? So use reverse psychology?

DOES NO ONE REALISE THE LONG TERM DAMAGE IT HAS ON THAT PERSON?

SO TITANIC IS ONE BIG BULLSHIT OF A MOVIE. "You jump, I jump." That is just creation of fiction to make people believe in this thing called love when in reality it doesn't exist.

Love doesn't exist. Maybe it does, for other people. I just don't deserve love.

I think back of all the stupid things I've done for love and I can't help but wonder why I cared. WHY. Men love bitches, they say. They even wrote a book about it. I just need to learn my lesson.

Or not.

I don't know.

All I know right now is that some days, I don't want to belong to the world. I just want to belong to someone. I want to spend rainy days just holding hands, and laughing in bed. I want to love someone with all my heart and for once, have that person love me back with all his heart.

I give up.

Maybe I'm just upset because I realised I was never really loved. By anyone. They say words can't harm you, but you have no idea.

"I'm always so proud of you, but why are you never proud of me?"
"Why should I be proud of you? You've done nothing."

I've been told I was nothing. I was worth nothing.

Now tell me, how do I go on? Where do I find strength and somehow forget these words, and be okay?

Face the facts of the truth of the moment

When almost every day becomes a struggle to live, it's hard to push aside the thoughts that things are wrong. But when things become wrong, the universe has a way of making things right.

To face the facts of the truth of the moment.

Of the moment.

The moment.

When I feel myself slipping away, I get pulled back by the forces of nature, one that is greater than most energies - the one that brings energies together sometimes.

Maybe my mind doesn't make sense anymore.

All I know is that when it comes to things you can't see, you feel with your heart.

"When life throws you a lemon, why not make margaritas?"

Maybe I'll be a bartender in a rustic bar by the beach somewhere.

Or maybe I'll just be whoever I can be, the best that I can be.

Be Kind, Rewind

I decided to take down the last post I wrote because I was reminded of this quote:

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."

Happy Lunar New Year, everyone!

:(

With the hope that writing will somehow help me get through this "festive" season, I will attempt to pen down how I feel. This is turning out to be harder than I thought it would be. My emotions are all over the place, and as I'm typing this right now, the only thing I could do is to hide in my room and cry buckets while I write, reflect and try to understand the things happening around me and within me.

In other words, I am falling apart, but I am trying so damn hard to not show.

Not so that I would fake emotions; I am trying to be as genuine as I can with how I feel, but because I really do not want to bring anyone else down with me. So a smile is the best I can do. And distractions help. Like when you're swamped with so many conversations and people and relatives, and you quietly slip off to play with your uncle's dog.

Anyway, I think I'll be able to make it through, somehow. We find strength within ourselves when we need it most, even when we think there's no way we can make it. One of beauties of life, I believe.

Although, I must say that it isn't easy, this hiding in my room thing, because I share a room with my mum when she's down here, and every fifteen minutes or so, she steps in to get something, or to say something, and I'm tired. And it's so hard to not let show how I really feel.

It's my first Lunar New Year "alone", i.e. single, in a while. I really wanted to avoid using that word, not because I care about being single, but because I came from a relationship status that brought along promise, not only to me, but to my entire family. I recall my late grandpa, two Chinese New Years ago, gave his blessing to my ex, calling him his future "son-in-law". Maybe there's no reason for me to feel this way, because maybe my family completely understands every screw up I've ever had, but it does feel horrible to know that I screw up time and time again.

It sucks to know that I'm the only one in the family with no proper job, with bipolar disorder, with nothing they could be proud of. It feels like every single public interaction I have with my family, I am tempted to make a public statement of apology.

In other words, my self-esteem is at zero right now. Anxiety is at a level high. And I don't know how to go on.

I miss the good old days. I miss those days when I was still studying, or was still capable of working. Those days when they thought I had a future. Those days when I still took the bus home, or drove 3 hours back to my hometown for Chinese New Year.

But maybe home is where the heart is. But why does it feel so out of beat, out of sync, out of tune? I feel like when I play music in my car, my mum reacts to my choice of music in a way I can't explain. She would sigh a lot, sometimes yawn, I feel judged. And maybe that's also the problem. Right now I feel like I can't be "me" around my family, and it's hardening me inside.

Then again, maybe that's exactly what I needed anyway. Some "hardening" of the heart. Pretending that I'm okay UNTIL I really AM okay, if there's really such a thing. Jadedness.

I don't know what it'll be like if anyone read this, and thought that I was being ungrateful towards my family, because I have no such intention at all. They are great people, and they love me, of course they do.

Maybe I'm just whining for nothing. I should just keep quiet, shut up, stop crying in my room, face the truth, face the facts. Face reality.

Grow up.

"You're Awesome"

Actors. Dancers. Directors. Writers. Doctors. Lawyers. Students. Engineers. Adventurers. Travellers. Dreamers.
Such a long list, too long to list them all down.

I am so proud of my friends.

I somehow feel like I don't have the tiniest fraction of awesomeness that they have.

I wish they knew how amazing they truly are.

And how greatly they affect me, and my life.

The Kitten Rescue Attempt

The public service is a unit that often receives criticism. Almost everyone has a story about corruption, bribery and inefficiency of the public service. I guess in our daily lives, we tend to forget that there are good encounters with the public service as well.

This is my story.

On an early morning in 2005/06 (when I say early morning, I mean about 4am), I was sitting outside a 7-11 in Ampang with two friends, drinking beer. It was rather late, and I was quite tired, so when I heard a "mew" coming from the top of my head, I thought I was hearing things.

It was a shoplot. And one of my friends noted that just the day before, he heard a kitten and it sounded as though the kitten was trapped upstairs, by a ledge on one of the shoplots, and had no way out. Kittens are mischievous by nature, and it's no surprise that they can sometimes get themselves into trouble.

It was a Saturday night, or rather, an early Sunday morning. I looked up and tried searching for the kitten. We went to 7-11 and borrowed a torchlight and located the kitten. It was trapped and had no way of getting down.

There was a water cooler nearby, and its sibling, I assume, was hiding under it, mewing in fear. Fear for its own self, and for the other kitten, I assume. I tried coaxing it into my arms, and it slowly nestled itself into my arms, in search for some comfort, I believe. After it had calmed down a little, we decided we should try rescuing the other kitten.

We tried to get the trapped kitten to jump down; my friend carried me and I was high enough, almost reaching the kitten but with a distance of possibly almost a metre. I wanted it to jump to my arms, to safety. But it was too afraid.

So I took the other kitten, and tried to coax both of them down, thinking that perhaps they could find a way to find strength in each other again, and then the trapped kitten would jump to my arms, to be with the other kitten.

But it didn't.

So the next best thing to do, we thought, was to call the fire department. Yes, it was 4am, we were drunk, and we decided to call the fire department. Both my friends thought it was a better idea if I made the call, considering it might have been incredibly ridiculous if a drunken man made a call to the fire department at 4am on a Sunday morning reporting about a trapped kitten.

And so I did. It wasn't an easy phone call, because I had trouble describing the whole situation.

But what happened next was something we completely did not expect: The fire department arrived within 10 minutes in a fire truck.

What ensued next was a rescue mission that lasted two hours or more. It was daytime by the time it ended. Unfortunately, we didn't manage to rescue the kitten. Not even with the fire truck, because the ladder could not be angled at a position to not hit the billboard.

I must honestly say that I left with mixed feelings. I was upset, yes, by the fact that we didn't manage to rescue the kitten. But what made me feel better that fateful day was the fact that people cared. It may have seemed like a trivial matter, but they took the time to try. It took them two hours or more, climbing up the ladder, angling it this way and that way, and it wasn't easy because the kitten kept running away, into the building.

So it was actually quite heartening.

So I believe there are people out there in the public service who care about serving the public, and even in the tiniest of concerns, they see the significance of the issue. They saw how distressed I was, and I was begging them again and again, asking them not to give up. And they didn't.

Not for those two hours in the wee hours of the morning.

We left hopeful, not dejected.

And if you're wondering what happened to the kitten, on Monday, when my friend went to work, he stopped by at the shophouse, and went upstairs and managed to rescue the poor little thing. It was hungry and soaking wet, from the rain or other elements like pipewater and such, but the good thing is that it was rescued, after all.

So there ARE people who care.

Let's not trick ourselves into thinking that there aren't.

"I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart."
- Anne Frank

If you're reading this...

Great! I want you to know that you might be wondering if anyone out there feels the way you do. Well, the answer is yes. It may be hard to fathom sometimes, but people do go through what you're going through. It may be in a different condition, situation, under different circumstances. But someone else feels the way you do.

Don't worry if you're feeling alone. I feel the same way too. A lot. Almost all the time. But I find comfort in knowing that, once in a while, someone cares. It happens at the most random of moments. When you need it most. A stranger would walk up to you and say he loves your smile. A child would hold on to your fingers for more than three seconds and smile. Someone would write you a long note, telling you that they were listening when you thought no one was. A friend would hold you close and let you cry on his shoulders, with snot running down your nose.

Hang on. There will be an answer. Wait for it.

In the meantime, smile. You never know when someone notices your smile. It might just brighten up their day. They might be walking for an audition and you might have just thrown them such a beautiful smile that makes them forget for a split second how nervous they were. Or you could have calmed their nerves down a little.

Continue living life. You might think the ordinary things you do are just too ordinary - taking a shower, putting on clothes, stepping out of the house. But what you may not realise is that someone might have noticed the way your hair falls in your face and how beautiful it looks. You may not know that they notice the shirts you wear and what they say. And how much they can relate. Or how it makes them smile.

Maybe the pain will never really go away completely. But living in the moment, savouring every sensation, every touch, every embrace, every colour of the spectrum (and oh what a broad spectrum life is!) can lead you to so many things - so many chances, so many instances, so many coincidences.

And sometimes, maybe once in a while, a coincidence can lead you to the best thing in your life.

New balance

There's no pattern to this, so it's hard for me to know when I'd be hit with a downswing. Or a manic attack. There were a few triggers that led me to feel down for a while.

I somehow feel like I can't be saved.

I know the facts, and that doesn't hinder me from living life. It's incurable, and I know it. But people live with it, and some people live very productive lives. Some 90% of marriages or relationships with a bipolar person end in divorce or separation. So it's easy to point blame. We're the crazy ones. We're the ones who are unstable, not of sound of mind, unable to make decisions.

The existence of the World Wide Web is making me feel like I don't belong even more. I look at tweets and status updates, and I look at latest news and research developments, and I wonder where my place is in this world. I feel like if I dropped out, if I checked out, it would actually be alright. Nothing would feel wrong. Balance would probably be restored. And that's even giving myself some credit. What makes me think I even matter? I don't. So let's just say that nothing would happen if I were gone.

And that comforts me a little.

It's pretty easy to brush it off, sometimes. It's not like I'm not genuine in feeling these feelings. I am. Completely. I just don't know how to deal with things, with people, with myself. There's great paranoia that accompanies this illness. You are afraid of everything - and then you brush your fears aside and you don't know what's right.

I'm so tired. I don't like the feeling of feeling victimised. I am not a victim. I just happen to have been blessed or cursed with this, depending on how you view it. And those words keep ringing in your ears, making you feel inadequate. Making you feel strange and all those words that do not describe a normal, loveable woman.

For I am not a loveable woman. I don't turn heads. I don't make hearts race. I don't give them sweaty palms.

All I do is make them more confused about life, because I can't figure out what the meaning of life is. No wonder my past lovers were so eager and keen to let me go. They craved normalcy. One even said that, affirmed that. Out loud. To me. To my ears.

They bled.

Sure, people hate negativity. Who doesn't? Don't bring me down, they sang. I listened. So what can I do but to pretend? That every time a tear comes so near, I lie through gritted teeth and make believe. I create my own world, and I go into it every time things turn ugly. I make believe that I could be happy. That I belong. That it is possible for someone like me to be appreciated. To be loved.

And I try my best to ignore that inner voice that whispers "bullshit".

I just didn't think that I would fall into a depressed mood so early in the year. It's funny, though, really. You see the beauty of everything when you're high in the clouds, and you see the beauty of everything when you're down, right down in your dungeon of pain. It's like the raindrops suddenly hurt you, and yet you want them to. Because feeling something, is better than feeling nothing.

Maybe, medically speaking, logically speaking, I just need a medication adjustment.

Finding Beauty in the Smallest of Things

"I believe you can achieve euphoria while feeling euphoric," a friend said.

It's a price I have to pay, really. There is this article, a blog post, that I stumbled upon, that described being bipolar to the very detail. And I could really relate to that. The Internet is amazing, because if it has any good at all, the least it has done for me is to make me feel less alone. Knowing that someone out there, miles and miles away, with possibly a different personality, and a different hairstyle, and likes peanut butter and chocolate, or beer, well, someone with all these differences, may share similarities with me. Similarities that very few understand. Similarities that, only people like us would understand. But that makes it even more beautiful.

Ever since I was little, I tried to understand something about myself. I never understood why I would cry over the smallest things - and not just the sad things, but also the things that tug on my heart, or even things that other people glance at, and look away.

Maybe other people are better at hiding how they feel. Maybe. But sometimes, and this happens at too many an occasion, I wonder why I could look at a flower and smile. Or admire the moon from afar, reaching out trying to catch it with my fingers. How silly, one might think. I giggle sometimes, and jokingly say that I should act my age. I'm 27 this year, and when I look at most of the people my age, I wonder if I just don't fit in. It pains me sometimes. It does. I read a quote before that I can relate to so much; it said: "I pretend that I like to be weird, but actually, I just don't fit in." And there's just so much of truth in that for me, I go around pretending that I like it, but in all honesty, I always wished, ever since I was a child, that I was normal. Like everyone else. But that is not the right thing to say, because everyone is unique and different, right?

Not according to a friend, who's an oddball. He's the kind of person who's so socially awkward that he would whistle a tune while sitting with a group of strangers, just because he feels awkward. I find that enticing.

When I was 23, someone told me that I was "an old soul trapped in a young body". I feel like, it doesn't matter what has been said or done, the simple truth is that, when I've chosen to live my life the way I've lived, I find the extremes of both ends. Of both poles.

So I remember a time during Gimrama class back when I was studying in Universiti Malaya, when everyone was busy stretching, I was doing the same while staring at a blade of grass. It was dancing in the wind. There was such beauty in it, I could not take my eyes off from it for a minute. It was possibly a simple distraction, but I can say this simply: I see beauty in the smallest of things. And it may have taken me 27 years to realise this, but I do not want to lose this gift.

So now I understand why I can feel so overwhelmed over things that may seem like nothing to others. Why holding a book in my hand can flood me in tears. Why hugging someone can leave me feeling fuzzy inside for hours, even days. Why I can stare into someone's eyes and feel a certain way I can never explain. Why I can hold a crayon in my hand and just smile. Why, so many years ago, when I went up the foot of Mount Kinabalu, I was so overwhelmed I sprung out singing "Top of The World". Why, when I used to stare at someone else sleeping, I would feel a sense of comfort. These small things; these things some people may take as normal, as something so ordinary, can appear so extraordinary to me. And I have faith in the extraordinary.

Which is why, I believe, that when I truly achieve happiness, I will attain a level of euphoria that very few can possibly feel. It's a price I pay. It is. But I can never say thank you enough for this deal.

Sharon's Guide to Climbing Bukit Tabur (Tabur Hill)

You know what you should do when all other "guides" to climbing Bukit Tabur do not seem too motivating?

Simple. Write your own. Which is what I will now attempt to do. I must emphasise that this article is written in all seriousness - everything I am about to write on is based on my experience climbing Bukit Tabur to catch the first sunrise of 2012.

A few days before Christmas, at a gathering, I got the inspiration to climb a hill on New Year's Day to catch the first sunrise of 2012. (I thought it was an amazing idea back then, but later on I found out that it has been done before. In any case, during our climb up, we were the only ones going up in the dark.) So I got around to asking a friend if it was an alright idea for me to climb Broga Hill alone on New Year's. After a short discussion, he jumped onto the idea, and suggested we go to Bukit Tabur instead. Another friend, who overheard the discussion, also came onboard.

"Which is harder?", I remember asking.

"Tabur. Broga is just a walk, but for Tabur you need to get on all fours" he said. "But takpe (it's okay) lah, we'll climb slowly." Yes, said these way more experienced climbers.

I was psyched about the climb, all the way until a day before New Year's Eve, when I decided to research on Bukit Tabur. I came across images and blogsites that told of the difficulty in climbing this hill. That was when I freaked out a little, but continued to psyche myself that I was going to be able to do it. But my fellow climbers, on New Year's Eve, kept saying it was possible.

So here are a few of my tips as a beginner on climbing Bukit Tabur:

1) Go with the mentality that it is a "walk in the park"
The fact that they kept telling me that it was simple, made me think that it was. Another friend, who came along with us, thought that it was going to be a "walk in the park". We came to realise that that made it easier for us. Thinking it was going to be a simple climb made it easier. I knew, of course, that it wasn't, but with friends who kept telling you that it was possible, you start to believe that it really is that simple. So go with more experienced climbers. Which brings me to my next point...

2) Go with more experienced climbers whom you trust
This is so:
a) You won't get lost so easily. If I had chosen to go alone, I wouldn't have been able to find my way up. We went up in total darkness. In fact, on the way down, when there was light, at one juncture when I was in front, I got lost and asked aloud, "Should I take the route that goes up again?" (Re-reading this, I feel like my mind must've really been almost toast to think that) So I know we should sometimes take the road not taken, but if I had gone alone, I would have definitely taken more than a day to get home. Or twenty years :D.

b) You can trust them not to hurry you up. They will understand if you need time to adjust. The friend I initially asked about the climb, at the beginning of the climb, told me to take it slow and go up at my own pace. You can also trust them not to leave you behind.

c) They can hold on to the rope while you hoist yourself up or down. The rope is usually loose and can be difficult to manage. So if you have someone you trust who has experience climbing, they will be able to help you on the way up and down.

d) They can provide you with things you forget, or just did not bring, like torchlights. Or water.

e) Most importantly, they are able to help you watch your back and front. So, in case you need a hoist up, or when your shoe slips (like mine did), you know you can trust someone to catch it.

3) Don't go alone
I wanted to say don't go alone unless you are really experienced. But I think it's still best to not go alone. In any case, you shouldn't go alone because you would want someone to take photos for you too! :)

4) Don't worry, your body may take time to adapt
I have a great fear of heights. So, in the beginning, I think about 1/4 of the climb up, I asked to stop once, and I slipped a few times. But when you feel that way, don't worry, just keep going. After a while, that feeling will go away, and your body will somehow adapt to the changes (like the gravitational unevenness). I think after that initial fear went away, my entire climb up and descent down became a billion times easier and smoother.

5) Don't be afraid to ask for help
Yeah, like when your shoe is slipping, you can ask the person behind you to hold on it. Or just yelp "My shoe is falling off!" like I did, and trust that they will hold on to it and say "Climb ahead, I've got it."

6) Find your own footing
This was one thing I realised while climbing up. I was right behind a friend, and I was trying to follow in her exact footsteps when I realised that her strategy may not be working for me. That was when I had to adapt, by holding on to a different branch, or stepping on a different ledge or rock. So, along with finding your own pace, I think finding your own footing is also as important.

7) Find your own way
On the way down, I was still on all fours a lot, sliding down the hill. My friend told me to stand, but I found it hard due to my fear of heights, or rather, fear of falling. So he mentioned that I should try bending my knees. What I did next was to bend my knees in a plie and put my arms up in the fifth position. I managed to walk down that way for quite a distance. So I suppose this means that you should do what you find is comfortable. Whatever works for you...

8) Go in the dark
Start your climb in the dark. My friend was right. He said that going up in the dark would be easier. Now of course, I have not gone up in light so I wouldn't know. But after we had gone down, looking up with the sunlight, I realised that it looked more frightful than it actually was. It's a certain kind of mentality. I realised that when you start climbing in the dark, all you're focused on is the climb up, one step at a time. You can't see the top, so you're not bothered by how far it is. You just continue going, until you reach the next checkpoint, and before you know it you're at the top.

9) Drink vodka
Okay, so I will not be held accountable for this *smiles sheepishly*. I had no sleep the night before, and I was drinking (it was New Year's eve, after all) all the way till almost right before we left for the climb. Yes, I was drunk. Tipsy, at least (but I was the only one). But well, "if the Russians can do it, so can you!" (to quote two friends) And if I ever have any doubts about pouring that vodka, I'll just remember them nodding and saying repeatedly "can can can can can can can..."

So yes, life's too short. Go climb that hill. And while you're at it, experience life.

I mean it both literally and metaphorically.

Love,
Sharon

P/s: This is a replica of the note I posted on Facebook, except that I removed names to protect privacy, since (almost) anyone can stumble upon this blog.