So I Sat and Talked to God, Again

Dear God,

I think I have been looking at one side of the coin; the disadvantages of being single. 

I have been dwelled and wasted enough time on my situation.

I took a look at the other side of the coin today. It’s pretty promising. It means I don’t have to deal with picking up his slacks anymore and going to other people for emotional support.

It also means I get to do what I want. Of course, financially, it will be a bit tough until I find a tenant for my new house, but otherwise, I see clearing debt sooner or traveling to exotic places.

I get to focus on my career or work towards publishing a book.

Thank you God for the glorious nap I had two hours ago. Thank you also for bringing me this idea.

I love you. 

Of The Irony

And it was Mister The-One-Who-Got-Away...My-Ass! (TOTGAMA) who calmed me down. I meant for this irony to take place, that the one who turned me into a manic depressive to start with, was the same person who restored order. 

I emailed him; I asked if he was free to talk. We can meet. I am in town, he replied. 

TOTGAMA and I, we met at my first job. He is of Punjabi descent, with dark, seducing eyes and skin as fair as his Aryan ancestors. He was worldly, a free spirit. I was born wayward and sad, and TOTGAMA noticed that. 

In fact, had it not been for the fact that we worked in the same office, our paths would not have crossed. We lived different lives.

Five years ago, embarked on an affair which lasted for six months. I was not proud of the fact that I cheated. 

Not long after the affair, he gave up the corporate necktie that was choking him, and moved to Australia to pursue his passion, whatever it was.

If he left Penang with short curly hair, slightly pudgy around the midsection from the excessive drinking, he came back forty pound skinner.

To prove a point, he got himself dreadlock.

“So, what happened? Why didn’t your boyfriend want to significant other you?” He asked. “Is it because he found someone hotter than you?”

“You are still very insensitive”

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop being a jerk.” He apologized.

[Good boy].

And then he added, “I heard he used me as an excuse.”

I nodded.

“Do you buy it?”

I nodded. Then I shook my head. Then I buried my face in my palms.

“I cannot wrap my head around it. So I stopped trying to.” I sat back on the chair. “How can you still be the elephant in my relationship? It has been five years. We’re having coffee and I feel nothing, except well, I’m thankful you’re taking time off from your busy dating schedule to have coffee with me.”

He took a drag of his Dunhill menthols, eyes squinting from the smoke, “So what have you been up to? Out dancing every night?”

"I’ve gone back to reading.”

Curly said, “Very typical of you. Here.” He handed me a Billabong shopping bag. “I got these for you”

“Wow. You are not the type to buy gifts for female.” I took out the contents. It was a pair of khakis. I put it back into the bag. “Thanks”.

“So what happens now?”

“I don’t know. I think years of resentment can make him confuse.”

“I agree. And I think you should not date anyone. Not until your head is in the right place.”

“We have moved on from our mistakes, but he hasn’t. This is clearly not your problem to solve. He needs to sort this out on his own without your participation.”

“So, no calling him?”

“Have you?”

“I only did once.”

“Leave the man alone. Can’t you see he’s tormented by our actions?”

“Honestly, I don’t. I have spent these past years making up for it. How can he be tormented?”

He paid for our coffees. The cashier at TGIF flirted with him, asked about his dreadlock.
And he took a good two minutes paying for the bill and flirted back.

I stood next to him, invisible, but it did not matter. 

Of Becoming Undone

I do not know how to start over. Being in a relationship is the only thing I ever know.

I haven’t made my break up public. I am ashamed. I am afraid of coming undone people start to ask me what went wrong.

Of Rumi's Field

Friend from high school has a cute habit. Whenever she knows I’m in my self-loathing mode (not hard to point out, really. When you see me sleeping in my bed in odd hours, when you’re talking to me but I have the eyes of the dead fishes you see in wet markets), she will text me little nuggets of wisdom.

Of all, I like this one best:

'Beyond the wrongdoings and rightdoings, there is a field. I'll meet you there.'

I imagine the field that Rumi talked about is happiness. Happiness that can be actualized only thru self-love. This is the place where all soldiers from opposing teams put aside their guns and realized that there’s really no point in fighting, if we could only love ourselves or just be in the moment. Just feel the breeze, the sun, the grass.

I wanted to be in that field ever since I discovered this quote. Some nights when my mind was on overdrive and I was consumed by the demons of self-loathing, I tried desperately to be in this field. I imagined the grass, the windmill (don’t ask), the trees and the wild flowers. I was at peace. I found my zen! I carried with me happy memories. How I usually fixed his coffee (1 teaspoon of Nescafe, 2 teaspoon of creamer, and 2 teaspoon of sugar. He liked his java sweet), how I salaam his hands before we leave each other.

One time he requested I cooked Nasi Lemak for dinner and I cooked too much, we even had that for breakfast the next morning.

I can only hold that peaceful feeling for ten seconds. And then I see the sorrowful ghouls and goblins of the past coming at me. Some holding machetes, some carrying torches.  I put up a fight, but then I could feel my heart got heavier and heavier and I started crying.

And then I start to miss him terribly.

Of Editing the Lost Youth

In the first month of Gretchen Rubin’s one year long Happiness Project, she aimed to toss, restore, and organize. ‘Household disorder was a constant drain on my energy’, she wrote.

I agree. When my room is unorganized, I feel suffocated, mentally. I love the existence of order and serenity. They keep me in my zen and make me happy
.
But decluttering means I have to part with my books. Oh, such tragedy! Putting my collection of Sidney Sheldon and John Grisham was a horrible task. I could hear them speak to me “Don’t you love us anymore? Give us a chance to show you passages you love!”

I quickly filled a big cardboard box with my books, sealed it, and wrote ‘BOOKS TO DONATE TO LOCAL LIBRARY’ on the lid of the box.

Oddly enough, I feel lighter. Now, I can tackle my closet!

I scanned thru my closet and told myself that the goal is to keep the ones I wear often and give away the ones that I might wear when I gain or lose weight. I want to be able to reach to a pair of shorts easily.

But how do you throw away any piece of clothing? I invested in these. It’s like throwing away money.

This is when I stopped myself and reread about letting go of attachment. “Most of our troubles are due to our passionate desire for and attachment to things that we misapprehend as enduring entities.” Dalai Lama, the great Tibetan monk, said.

Holding on to my clothes will not make me happy.

I decided to give them all away to make others happy.

When I finally have a much organized closet, I feel energized! I decided to keep up with this positive momentum by tackling my desk!

I knew I was going to stumble upon little pieces of memories with my boyfriend. There were pictures lying in the drawer and a box full of letters we wrote for each other when we were still in high school. They all seem so far away yet closer now.

So many things have changed.

I stumbled upon forgotten days too. Days when we opened a burger stall together during semester break. We kept an inventory of burgers, salad and buns in a little notebook. We recorded the amount of burgers sold and how much of the profit we gained and used to replenish our supply for the next day. We didn’t earn much, but it was enough to keep us occupied.

I remember the huddle masses of customers; lonely folks who weren’t willing to dine alone in coffee shops. The queue was long on most nights because my boyfriend was a perfectionist. He wanted to make sure the burgers were cooked in the inside and the salads were in the right portion.

I stored all my memories away in two shoe boxes. It’s amazing how I crammed thirteen years of memories in two shoe boxes. I stored the shoe boxes in my mother’s room, away from my curiosity.

Maybe one day I’ll revisit the boxes. But for now, I crave zen.

Of Going Vegetarian

Two years ago, I fooled around with vegetarianism and stuck to it for six months.  

I wanted to lose weight. 

I had my reservations about going vegetarian. I am mostly afraid that my new eating habit alienates me from my meat-chomping lunch crowd. 

Nevertheless, I went ahead with it. As long as I get to indulge in occasional French fries, I do not mind at all.

As usual, I became neurotic. I started to plant my own vegetable (albeit just a pot of lettuce) and I made my own soy milk. My weight started to melt off and I was even more motivated to stick to the diet! I was a size 8 when I started. When I ended my vegetarian diet (TGIF cheeseburger seduced me. Long story), I was a size 2!

Because I wanted to be in my zen and have some degree of control in my eating habit, I started my vegetarian diet again.

One problem. Dude from Work loves eating. He eats when he’s hungry and he eats when he’s bored. Even after he’s done eating, he tends to look at your food while you’re eating yours. 

When I first met him, I thought he wanted to taste a bit of my food. I looked at him and asked 

“Would you like to try the fish? It’s pretty good?”

He shook his head and said, “No, no. I am very full."

“Then why are you staring at my food?”

“I wasn’t”

But he was totally staring at my food. The same way men stare at boobies.

When I told him I am going vegetarian as part of my healing process, he laughed so loud, he started to cry. “How can anyone give up meat? They’re so good!”

“I want to have control over what I do. And since hanging out with you boys,” I nodded toward him, “I lost control of my diet. I am always eating unhealthy food. Chicken rice, roti canai with lots of gravy. I mean, look at this!” I pointed to the oil swimming on the surface of the curry, “How healthy is this? People die from heart attack just by looking at this.”

“Are you trying to lose weight again?” Dude from Work asked. “Any more weight lost and you’re anorexic.”

" I can’t stand girls who are consistently on a diet.” He mimicked “Oh, I can’t eat fries. Ok just one French fries. Dab dab dab.” He looked at me, “Yes, my ex colleague dabs her fries with tissue paper to absorb excess oil.”

“You guys are missing the point. I’m doing this for control over my daily food intake. Whenever I overeat, I feel guilty. I’d tell myself, Ok, just a light dinner later. And then, you will call “Hello, Dinner?” and then before I know it, I’m stuffing fried rice into my mouth for dinner. Are you guys going to pay for my slimming treatment when I’m as fat as that guy over there?” I pointed at an obese man walking on the opposite side of the road.

I won the case. 

Watching Julia Robert eats pasta and pizzas wasn’t helping either. Truth is, I have been eating although I seem to keep losing weight. A heartbreak does that to you. A heartbreak is the new gym. The new Pilates. The new kickboxing. The new cardio. Want to lose weight? Break up with your boyfriend!

I immediately embarked on my vegetarian diet in the month of December. My vegetarian murtabak taste like feet, but it doesn’t matter. I was free of guilt, food wise.

So I Sat and Talked to God

Dear God,

I have lost the boy I spent thirteen years with.

Did I change him to the heartless creature who stood before me that night?

But how could that be? I asked him if I had loved him enough. He said yes. I asked him if I had supported him in his career? He said yes.

So what did I do wrong?

I am now without a purpose. He has always been my purpose. 

What is my role now, now that it’s over?

God?

Are you there?
…
Do you have Skype?

Of The Monet of Relationship

The famous French painter, Monet, visited the Lourve one day. He saw aspiring artists from all over the world, sitting in front of the masterpieces. 

These aspiring artists were not there to admire the creative process behind each masterpiece.

They were there copying the paintings.

Instead of setting up his workstation next to yet another aspiring artists and started to copy a masterpiece, Monet set up his workstation outside of the Lourve, presumably near a window, and started to paint these artists at work.

Like Monet, I have been sitting outside and looking into other people’s relationship. I learn from what I see, and try to create a masterpiece out of what I observed.

I am the Monet of marital impressionism. The Newton of the Law of Marital Gravity. The Darwin in Marital Evolution. I get quite a number of calls from friends, seeking marriage advice. Friends respected my opinions.

Strangely, how can I have failed mine after thirteen years?

It would be the biggest lie in the century [after Bill Clinton’s I-Did-Not-Have-Sexual-Relationship-With-That-Woman lie] if I say I felt nothing. I was hurt. How could he have left me without any explanation, other than I fell out of love with you because of your past affair?

I was angry because he blamed my past affair. Hadn't I spent the last five years making up for my error?

I packed my bag that night. We slept next to each other. He slept. I cried in bed. When the sun came up in the morning, I knew it was time for me to leave. I cried as I watch it rise. I cried in the shower. I cried when I put on my clothes. I cried when I kissed my cats good bye. I cried when I began my solitary march out from the house.

I cried in the four hour bus ride home, not a minute spared. I cried when Friend From High School and Dude From Work, picked me up from the bus stop. I cried when they settled me into my bed. I cried when Dude From Work passed me the medicine for my headache.

My whole world has come to an end.

What is worse than being left abruptly is the day after, when the realization has sunk in completely. I am suddenly alone. I am no longer part of something, of someone.  I have lost the will to live. I spent the entire morning, staring at the ceiling. Even the walls questioned my resolve.

I picked up my phone. No messages from him. No miss calls.

Doesn’t he miss me?

Should I call him? What the hell is happening? Did I do something wrong?

All day I waited for his call. I checked my phone every few minutes.

But the night came without any news from him. I slipped into slumber, not realizing that I hadn't eaten nor taken a shower.

That is the beginning of my depression.

I am in a place where i feared most. 

I am suddenly single.