50: Old wounds

I am BIG on the ‘past being the past’, ‘moving on’ and ‘focusing on the now’.  And generally, I am quite proficient.  Of course it helps to be as forgetful as I am with my ‘now’ overflowing with all the essentials I need to keep in mind with the girls’ schedules -- making it easier to bury unpleasant memories DEEP in some hard to reach recess of the brain and heart.  Our move to Singapore, however, has stirred these memories and forced me to acknowledge my past.

To Matt’s delight, I have always had an aversion to shopping, putting the task in my dreaded “only if I really need to” basket.  Possibly, that may have been what spurred him on to propose!  And then one day, shortly after our move here, as we drove past a particular mall, I felt sick in my stomach as I recognized it from my childhood days.  And the memories came rushing in. With the implosion of my parents’ marriage and my father’s disappearance to his ‘other’ family, mom used to banish me out of the house with strict instructions not to return before a certain time.  If I was a teenager, perhaps that would have been music to my ears.  But I think I was not quite 10.  And so, with barely any money in my pocket, I stayed out of the house until the sun had set, seeking refuge from the heat by wandering aimlessly around certain malls.  Till today, I am not a fan of overhead fluorescent lights and malls.  I think my sanity was saved when I discovered I could block out my reality by losing myself in books at the library -- until closing time.

A few weeks ago, I received a letter from the Singapore Immigration office advising me the country did not recognize dual citizenship.  It was a surprise.  At 15, I had not wanted to leave Singapore and move to another country with my father (who was now a violent stranger to me) and his wife (who was not shy about showing her displeasure about being my new ‘responsible adult’).  My naïve self was sure I could find a job, support myself financially AND still go to school.  So I did what any foolhardy15- year-old would do.  I ran away, found a job, and hid at a friend’s house.  Of course my father found me.  And we left soon after.  And the beatings my father used to ‘grace’ my mother (and then the Indonesian and Filipino maids) with, I became the ‘heir apparent’.  I didn’t last long.  Two years later, and nearly broken, I left home at 17.  An unfinished education.  No money.  No job.  No prospects.  No relatives and nobody who cared.   Just some clothes in a bag.  In a country still alien to me.  I felt someone painted a big fat “L” on my head.

I was lucky my first boyfriend’s mother took me in.  But that didn’t last long either.  I felt second-rate and a loser on every level with not-a-bright-future ahead.  If I had known I had the option to go back to Singapore to be guided by one of my many uncles or aunts (my father came from a family of 10!), I think I would have hopped on the next plane -- if only for a welcoming face.  Instead, I left the sanctuary of this kind woman’s house, ashamed I was not good enough for her son but determined to be the master of my own destiny.   Fast forward 29 years, my grown-up self weeps at what my 17 year-old-self went through for the next few years.  But I consider myself lucky because things could have been much MUCH worse. 

But the recent opening of these previously forgotten wounds have not been for nothing.  It has reiterated to me how fortunate I am and forced me to really scrutinize the principal driving motivator in my life: to leave a positive legacy through the next generation.  I know I speak quite openly about my past.  It is not to garner pity but to remind myself that I am one of the lucky ones. 

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26. Tomorrow

 

A couple of nights ago, as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt frustrated because although I had started working on a few topics (actually, I have 5 different documents currently open on my desktop!), I had not finished a piece of writing in a week!   Now, you might wonder why I was feeling that way seeing I am not on a payroll, nor is there a employer-imposed deadline.  The thing is, I have self-enforced targets.  I have to do this in order to have some sort of discipline and momentum with my writing, otherwise, it would be far to easy for it to fall by the wayside as life gets very busy with the everyday.

Anyhow, the internal conversation went a little like this:

“Argh!  I feel so discouraged nothing I’ve started writing has taken a life of its own.”  “Its okay, be patient.  You’ve been away for a few days with Matt and then busy with the girls’ end-of-school-year stuff ..”  “Argh!  What am I going to cook for tomorrow’s dinner party? 11 adults to cater for with all sorts of requests.  No mushroom.  No prawns.  No pork.  No softshell crab.  Hmm, what about scallops?  I wonder if I can be brave enough to make a soufflé for the first time for this party?”  “Argh!  What am I going to write about next?”  You get the picture.  Of course, come next morning, my refreshed brain had figured out a rough menu and also what to write about next!

As a younger person, I often let things get me all tied up and twisted inside but becoming a mom made me realize a couple of things:

1.    I needed to set a good example to the girls as I didn’t want them to grow up to be stressheads like me, getting all wound up over silly things

2.    a lot of these ‘problems’ were only as big (or small) as  my perception

3.    when it came to big problems, sometimes, the best solution was to ‘sleep’ on it -- to get a fresh perspective and better problem solving skills

And so, I resolved to change.  It was very hard at first.  Not freaking out at everything that wasn’t done “perfectly” or whenever things didn’t go to ‘plan’, not jumping the gun with my responses and learning that not EVERYTHING needed to be ‘action-ed’ immediately  -  trying to rein-in behavior and impulses I had inherited from my past.  It felt so unnatural. 

I had to learn to let go of trying to control everything, realizing in the process that ‘total control’ was impossible (as well as damaging to myself and everyone around me) and importantly, in the big scheme of life, what was critical today may become trivial tomorrow.  And what a weight off my shoulders that realization was!

Although I am still ‘light’ years from becoming adroit at leaving the complicated until tomorrow, I am learning that sometimes, stepping back from difficult situations can make perceived problems magically become manageable (or disappear) because of a fresh perspective and therefore new approach.  And the best part?  I see the girls get the benefit from this changed approach as they follow in my example and learn to deal with challenges in a healthy and more positive way.

Now… what am I going to write about next?  Not sure yet.  But tomorrow is a new day and maybe the answer will come to me then.

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