Welcome!: Pent-Up Emotions

Thursday, 4 October 2007

Pent-Up Emotions

I'm home. In Singapore, in case you wonder.

It's funny, things have been so different and yet, maybe it's not. I should've anticipated this, I mean, somehow deep in my mind, I knew this was coming, but I haven't prepared myself even when I thought I have.

When I got into my apartment, it felt like I have been gone for long, and I was probably just overreacting but if that's the case, then I was overreacting subsconsciously. The whole space seemed..different. My room looked different. Has it always been this bright? I wondered. And it smelled...different too. Like fresh porcelain. Like some room that is entirely brand-new. Everything looked distinctively unfamiliar, like it's someone else's and not mine. The brightness and the smell are probably the two most peculiar things that I noticed when I finally fell back into life, the life that is unfair, and cruel and bitter, and which can take you on a roller-coaster ride and you still lose in the end anyway.

It has been very hard. I thought I was ready but I was nowhere near it. I have never experienced sadness, or grief before, and now suddenly bang! What has been a really long journey, one that we have dared to hope, to wish, to long, to come out strong in the end, has finally ended in the most painful scenario one could ever imagine. I know I have been telling myself to surrender, to not hope, but I was desperate too, and I hate myself for begging and lowering myself to actually believe again, to compromise and make a pact with whoever out there to listen to our despair and desperate attempt to still be with the person that we love. I should've sticked with my stubborness, maybe if I have, I wouldn't be this dissapointed and angry.

I desperately want to tell you that I have done everything I could, that at least I have let her go knowing that I have given all, although what I could give was nothing and so insignificant. But I can't, because I was selfish, and I can't begin to say how much regret and sadness and what-ifs piled up inside me. I am disgusted at myself and there's absolutely nothing I can do now but to live with myself when I'm not even sure I like this person anymore.

At the hospital, after weeks of just being there, I grew miserable. Although not in front of her, but I was still grumpy to the others and my mood was constantly shitty. I felt like I was slowly losing myself. My cheerful, talkative and easy-going self was replaced by this unknown bitter, moody, introvert, anti-social and angry person. I refused to talk more than necessary to people, and sometimes not at all, because I just wanted to be alone and I retreated by just sitting beside her to avoid people and those pretentious sickening comments, words of encouragement and endless patronizing remarks about how her sickness was just a way to make us realize our sin and to ask for forgiveness and all that nauseating bull. I grew tired of people altogether. I was depressed, I felt stuck, being there everyday for weeks with the same people and same routine and I really feared, that I would be a bitter person from then on, that I could never be the same person again, and I didn't want that, I hated myself, I hated being angry at everybody and I hated being anti-social. I would do everything just to revert myself back to the person I thought was me. But I couldn't help it, no matter how much I tried to joke around, I got sick to my stomach, I couldn't pretend to be fine when I was miserable inside.

For what is worth, how could one not be miserable under the circumstances? I thought I could be bigger than that, I should've been happy for her, eventhough happiness was impossible, but that was the least I could do, and at times I couldn't even do that.

One time, we all got really tired and everything have just taken its tolls on us and we felt like we might go crazy anytime soon, so we went for karaoke for just a few hours. At that time, it felt like it was the right thing to do, because we could explode if we stayed there for one more day without rest, and a few hours break was all we wanted so we went.

If I knew that she would go soon, I wouldn't leave her side. But that what's cruel, isn't it? We couldn't possibly know, and now I just wanted to laugh everytime I think about myself going for karaoke when I could be with her for a few more hours, I could've asked her things, I could've asked for all her wisdom on how I could live normally without her, how I could later work and have a family without her, how I could be a better person and how I could learn to be more like her, and I could've even told her how much I'm proud of her and that she is the strongest person, and the best mother everyone could ever hope for.

Anything. I could've said anything to her and I didn't.

But, one thing that I did not regret was my decision to come home to be with her for her final weeks. I did what I did, although probably it wasn't enough but I hope, she knew that she didn't go through with this alone, that we all were beside her all steps of the way and the most important thing I really, really wish she knew, was that she is truly loved.

Days after it all happened went on like a blur. Describing it as surreal would be an understatement. Never in my life I thought I would be doing what I did. What we all did. There were just so many things needed to be done than I could ever imagine. And they happened in matter of days and I just lost all sense of time, feeling nothing but pent-up anger, and mostly, unbearable sadness. At times, it seemed that you can't even stop to think, that you didn't have time to digest and process everything that happened so you felt numb most of the time, but then suddenly, you could just sit there and break down.

When the formalities, and the rituals have finally ended, somehow I felt relieved. But soon I dreaded something that happened next. Coming home, after days of being in the funeral house. At that point, a crazy hopeful side of me still thought that it might be just a bad dream. And then more sadness were coming at our way because we had to go through her stuffs, to arrange things to go back to routine, slowly and painfully. Keeping myself busy, looking for distractions, going out with uncles, aunts and cousins, anything. Anything, just to make sure life goes on, even though life seems a lot bleaker now. Sometimes when I go home at night, I would secretly believe, that she was there, doing things I always remembered her doing, being in the exact spot she always was, talking as if nothing's wrong.

Everyone in the house were moody and small things became big problems. We all coped in our own ways and it caused unnecessary disputes and fights, we all were just really stressed and we didn't know how to act, so being angry at each other seemed better than feeling sorry and falling apart. A few times Dad would hold on to me really tightly and a small part of me couldn't help feeling angry at him, I need you to be strong for me, I'm trying really hard to contain myself and I don't have the energy to do it for you too! I can't!

I haven't been good for her, and regret is all I can feel now. Slowly, we all have to move on, and her memories will always be with us. I guess it's starting to feel better now. We're planning to sell the house and buy a smaller flat, and I don't know if it's the right thing to do, but we just need this.

The only thing I should believe, is that she is in happier place now, although my stubborness and my anger are convinced, that I should have been able to make her happier than wherever she is and whoever she is with now. I should have been there. She would be happier with me. But I can't go on thinking like that, can I?

I'm sorry, I have been really serious. I need to let this all out, I guess. After this, I promise I won't write such depressing entry anymore. I'm trying to move on, you know? And sometimes I don't know how to act, is it okay to be depressed? Is it okay to laugh again? Is it okay to have fun? Will people judge? I don't know, and I don't want to care.

I just have to live with it, although I have to admit, I'm pretty dissapointed with myself. I should have done more. And as for now, I realize more, the real importance of family, because I don't have anyone else but them.

I feel so many other things, much more than I could ever write and confess, but maybe they are better left unsaid.

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Quotes

There's a hundred million different ways of writing, and it takes you a long time to sort through that stuff. And I think it takes anyone a long time to find a voice.

You must learn to take the good with the bad, the happy with the sad, love what you’ve got and remember what you had. Learn to forgive, but never forget, learn from your mistakes but never regret. People change and things go wrong, but you just have to remember that life goes on.

The day before I’m supposed to be meeting Caroline for a drink, I develop all the textbook symptoms of a crush: nervous stomach, long periods spent daydreaming, an inability to remember what she looks like. I can bring back the dress and the boots, and I can see her bangs, but her face is a blank.

I don't know, I think that if I could just accept the fact that my life is supposed to be difficult. You know, that's what to be expected, then I might not get so pissed-off about it and I'll just be glad when something nice happens.

I can see now I never really committed to Laura. I always had one foot out the door, and that prevented me from doing a lot of things, like thinking about my future and... I guess it made more sense to commit to nothing, keep my options open. And that's suicide. By tiny, tiny increments.

There's a big fucking world out there. It's messy, and it's chaotic, and it's never, never ever the thing you'd expect. It is ok to be scared, but you cannot allow your fears to turn you into an asshole, not when it comes to the people that love you, the people that need you.

Maybe what I'm saying is, is the world might be evolving the way a person evolves. Right? Like, I mean, me for example. Am I getting worse? Am I improving? I don't know. When I was younger, I was healthier, but I was, uh, whacked with insecurity, you know? Now I'm older and my problems are deeper, but I'm more equipped to handle them.

I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived: I've loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.

Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

A woman needs to be held, even, and science has shown this, if its with someone she doesn't care about. Protective hormones are released, and the amount of hormones released depends on the degree to which she is held. The first and best is the complete surround. He wraps you in both arms, whispers how beautiful you are. Second best is the 'arm around.' He is next to you but with one arm around you. Third is he's just next to you on his elbow, but he rests his hand on your stomach and looks at you. Fourth is you snuggling up to him with your head on his chest, while he looks away into space. But when the first best happens, you feel completely, wonderfully like a woman.

So, so what, so fuck off, go home, leave you alone? I'll tell you something Paul, there isn't anything that I've wanted for eighteen years, cause I was a kid eighteen years ago. And if I did still want the same things I'd think I'd gone wrong somewhere, because actually I don't want to marry David Cassidy, I don't want bigger tits, I don't want to do better on my marks. I've stopped worrying about that kind of thing and maybe you should try.

Well maybe there's a big bit of you that's gone missing somewhere, maybe everyone should want something they've always wanted.

Why is it that adults aren't supposed to go mad about anything? You gotta keep a lid on it. And if you don't then people are apparently entitled to say what they like. "You haven't grown up. You're a moron. Your conversation is trivial and boorish. You can't express your emotional needs. You can't relate to your children." And you die, lonely and miserable. But you know, what the hell, every cloud has a silver lining.

I just woke up one morning and didn't feel the same way. Where did it go? It was like there had been a lot of food on a plate in front of us, and we ate it all really quickly, and then there was nothing left. Maybe that's how couples stay together: they're not greedy. They know that what they have in front of them has to last a long time, so they kind of pick at it. I hope it's not like that, though. I hope that when people are happy together, it feels as though someone keeps piling seconds and thirds on their plates.

That is what I have learned: Sex is destructive. Love is nothing to be fooled with. I learned that I was dangerous, not to be trusted. I wondered if my parents were right, with all of their stiff lovelessness. Maybe they knew better. My parents don't dole out love for the deserving or the undeserving. I was learning that love could cost me.

You could say all you liked about reason and logic and common sense and imagination, but when the chips were down, the one skill you needed was the ability to think about absolutely nothing whatsoever.

There is a comfort in never making an effort, but it's a lonely comfort. What keeps you going is the knowledge that you're only playing with only four cards showing. But when you see other people succeeding with their mediocre hands, you have to make a decision. If you turn over that final card you're certain of victory, but it also means you have nothing in reserve.

I’d gone through life believing in the strength and competence of others; never in my own. Now, dazzled, I discovered that my capacities were real. It was like finding a fortune in the lining of an old coat.

Maybe we all live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as mere consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or ecstatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable, solid relationship.