classified X

My entry in the previous blog was inspired by Wendy's blog about her previous r/nship,hence it sparked off some sentiments and I used my parents as an example. I am not upset because my parents divorced. It was 2 years ago and a positive step towards a better change in their lives.

My sadness has nothing to do with a breakup,because there wasn't one? I brought up my previous r/nship because it mirrored a situation Wendy faced so,everything was related. Sometimes when u're feeling a little sad,u tend to be slightly more nostalgic. Nothing more than an inference.

Totally unrelated.:)

I just wrote in a stream of consciousness and I do know everything will be better and it is,but I did admit that if I didn't have so much fear in my heart I might feel less stifled. This query about people,r/nships and soulmates is just a question based on some things I observe in detail on a day to day basis. I wonder what the odds are and that if perhaps some people observe convenience and "fate" as some bewitching sort of autonomy for believing they should get together. Recently an old friend told me how his wife and him are together still only because they get along and are each other's best friend. He told me that he felt nothing towards his wife and I gasped. I felt so sorry and I wondered then,why did he get married if he was so quick to fall out of it. His answer was "it's normal to be this way.After a while,it gets mundane." I don't know if I'm crazy but that's not how it should be. I think relationships get mundane,days get mundane, anything gets mundane. Even my fav brownies and ice cream looks pretty boring to me sometimes,but a few days later I am always craving for it. When my friend tells me thisn story,I had a strong feeling he was looking for a reason to cheat or do something strange. I didn't judge him, I just told him I thought he had to correct his mindset for a bit.

My parents stuck together for so many years and trust me,when I was just 5,they already separated and patched back afterwards. I remember living with my mum in her family house with my grandma and then later on when they got separated a few years ago,I lived with my mum again. Here is a little brief on their story.

Mum and Dad were as different from day and night,the sun and the moon. I would say Dad was more like the moon rather than the sun because he was more emotional and more artistic. Mum was just the straight laced,no nonsense type of person. Mum was Chinese educated and spoke little English but hailed from a family of affluence. Dad had it really rough. They juxtaposed each other so greatly,it feels amazing just thinking it. Dad's father,my grandad I never knew, perished when he was 11. My father being the oldest child of a family of 6 other brothers and sisters took the responsibilities for raising them. There was hardly any money and my grandma became a washer-woman,a laundrylady to support the family.

In those early days of the 50s and 60s, Singapore was a not-so-developed country because it was only independent in 1965. My dad and alot of different kids slogged and worked hard to make ends meet and fed his family,while mum was driven to school by her chauffeur. Yes,huge difference. U cannot blame mum for being jaded and cynical sometimes. She really didn't know what hit her. Mum came from a dysfunctional family herself. Because my grandpa was a rich and influential man,he became business partners and good friends with the government and was part of the pioneer group of businessmen made good in Singapore due to their history in China. Grandpa was capable and his business expanded. Mum's family was in the business of manufacturing vermicelli,rice noodles and all sorts of noodles. They had diversity and branched out into biscuit factories and also factories for making furniture and sawmill. My mother said,my grandfather met his second wife,while she was working at the factory. And that the years which ensued where my grandma was left in a huge bungalow with her kids and a big garden,her mum was often left without the concern and care of a real dad. And mum too if u can guess. Both my parents therefore suffered from a "broken family" syndrom and I believe this was the affinity that drew them together.

My mother had a hole in her heart. At a tender age of 14,she has had to underdo major surgery. She has never been the healthiest person around but my mother is one clever woman. I have never met anyone less shrewd,competent than her,she was an excellent accountant. And dad was just an artistic guy who took very well to writing and languages. Dad worked for the paper as a journalist at one point,prompting him to stay long hours and away from mum. As u can roughly guess,my penchant for writing probably came from Dad. Eventually my mother forced Dad to change jobs,something where she didn't feel she would be "alone". This was understandable afterall she had been raised in a family lacking in warmth. My grandpa also went to live with his second wife which meant my mother saw him less and less. In olden days the Hui An province my mother's family was from, practised severe favourtism on boys. If u thought it was a patriarchal society then,it was worse in Hui An. Girls were completely liabilities compared to boys,because girls were considered nothing valuable since they were not able to do labor intensive work or chores. Luckily for mum,her family had the ability to send her to school and allow her to do most things,other girls in her province probably did not. Mum was born and raised in Singapore,so I doubt even she knew what Hui An in China was like.

My parents did not have a common language really,but they were attracted to each other because mum and dad met during one of those song/worship sessions at a church campfire. Yes,this is where it sounds sweet and romantic. This is the part where language and other practical class differences were of no issue and they fell in love. My dad was a hardworking person who became more and more cultured and refined by his self studying. He used to preach BBC English to me and my brother and every Sunday we were given quizzes on English and pronouncing the words right meant dollar treats and rewards. Hence,unlike other Singaporean households, my dad actually held his ground on straight proper English to this very day. It is amazing because as an inhabitant of Singapore,he does not have a trace of the Singlish thing going on. He also used to teach us the difference in American and British English. I was not so much absorbing back then,but little by little I realized alot of what I am today was actually due to my younger years of moulding and shaping. Writing is something that is natural to me,and the best way to express my feelings. This also encompass the other creative juices in me in regards to music and composition. My brother is slightly different,he was better at geography and math. Some people said my bro was really the splitting image of dad but his character was similar to mum's. I admit my excesses are an echo of dad's,because he was emotionally very turbulent.

To make a long story short,the differences between them always were glaringly obvious. Someone was bound to get hurt when comparisons were made and people started to live together. Dad never got over it. And neither did Mum really. U see, mum had never cooked in her life more than some simple things she tried. When she got married to dad,my grandma was shocked that mum was incapable of those things. Now as u know my mother was/is actually a career minded competent woman,to be told she had these failings dug at her pride and so she grew sadder and sadder and complained that dad wasn't sticking up for her. Dad being the guy who's trying to make good while he was still young became tired and stressed. Even though mum worked,it was her family business,she didn't have the terror of facing evil, political situations where Dad was victim of. I think one of the things that led Dad to really become heartbroken was when his own brother combined forces with a friend from outside and kicked Dad out of the business he started after he left the press.

:)

In the turbulent years that followed my mum developed breast cancer in the intermediate stage,but it was so bad at a point,the doctors told her she had no more than 6 months.This was when I was 8. I will always remember how mum brought me shopping that last time before she was admitted to the hospital. I used to have hair ribbons and in the school I went to,we only could use blue,and black. Mum bought me black ones with a little silver trimmings and I wore them to school everyday. I also cried when I saw her empty bed when she was in the hospital. I prayed to God in my child-like ways of giving my extra years to mum but I didn't mind having a shorter life. I thought if mum came back,everything would be alright.

It was as if that miracle really happened.

Mum has always said to this day that she prayed to God for her to live till my bro and I were grown up and mature enough to take care of ourselves. It was a double pact,mine and hers with God. I believed that's why when she went for her next medical checks the doctors were so surprised that her cancer cells had almost started on a self elimination streak. She was getting better and better mysteriously.

But mum changed. She came home and she became angry alot,angry ever so often with everything and there was alot of yelling in the house. In those years,mum hit me so much I howled and howled in such pain,sometimes so bad I cried myself to sleep. I imagined it was a monster and my mother was kidnapped and one day I would rescue her and everything would be alright. Unfortunately my bro and I had different characters,when he was punished he was almost always quiet. I asked why,why,why alot. I questioned,reasoned,probbed to the point that mum hit me harder and harder. She also told me a few times that I was nothing but worthless trash. She would much rather only have a son.

Soon afterwards, I met with some trouble. Because I could not talk to mum about my mishap,I could not talk to my friends at school. I could not talk to anyone and I was basically in this situation where I suffered mishap upon mishap for years. I blocked it out so much that I almost always thought I never differed from anyone else. It really did not help that the school I was in,was a school for little rich girls. They received huge presents from their parents when they did averagely well. I remembered the grand birthday parties where they were dressed like dolls,their beautiful barbies and their dollhouses. I remembered being always awkward and silent and never quite fitted in.I had presents too,barbie dolls for Christmas and Birthdays. But mum said those were not meant for me,but for other kids. So she gave them to my cousins or her friends' kids. I was left with the hand me downs and broken dolls my cousins did not want. They had dirty faces,tattered dresses and broken limbs.

Like me,broken.

I remember mum kept the new dolls up high in the cupboards and I used to tip toes jumping,hoping to catch a glimpse. I stacked chairs,only to fall over and once I stupidly stood on a huge blanket not knowing it had housed an iron underneath. Because the iron was just used then,it burnt me. And I hopped around crying.

Overtime as I grew older I forgot about the dolls and so did mum really. One day when I was packing my things and ready to move out of my house to college dorm,I opened the top cupboard and saw my old,new dolls.:)

Still pristine,still beautiful but not mine. I was too old already to play with dolls.I knew in my heart then that I always never felt like a complete person even tho I did heal from my traumas when I went and prayed fervently in church. When Forrest Gump came out, I kept uttering the familiar phrase "God ,pls make me a bird so I can fly far far away". I was never going to be the beautiful doll they were,with beautiful dresses and pretty hair.

What accompanied me in those sad,lonely moments were my storybooks,I revelled in the wonderland and the surreal sphere of the stories and also my piano. I just played,played and played. I played the melodies that appeared in my head,they just did. Everytime a new wound was opened, I had something to dress the music in. This pain made me cynical and afraid of people,but the crunch time came when my very own best friend also robbed me of my dreams. I am sorry to say that I became a defeatist then and I tried to kill myself. I always felt I was responsible for her backstabbing me and her underhanded methods in the way she had stolen my recording deal back then. There were a million ways to look at it and the truth was it became worse when everyone told me "I told u so". She had said my trying to be so angelic made her sick to the bone and she didn't believe that I truly loved her. She said "keep yr friends close but enemis closer." My heart sank when I heard that.

Well,obviously I did not die. Obviously I suffered from this deep depression because it culminated from a history of buried hurts,abuses and pain. After Mum had cancer she became an angry person. She fell out with dad so much but she vented her rage on me because I wasn't the docile kind of child. I would be playing the piano and she would yell to "shut up" and I would question and inquire why I could not play the piano then,and mostly I never had answers,only largescale flogging. When I say I was flogged,it wasn't  a simple cane. Mum bought 7 canes,tied them with a string and hit me till they split. She also torched them with fire so they burned. I had so much hate in my heart then. And it was a miracle how I even made it to college. I think writing helped and I did well in LIterature,English and History without much effort so I was just lucky.

Afterwards when my best friend's betrayal slapped me straight on,I just cracked. U see I could not deny that things were just not going the way I had hoped. I had wanted to trust again but I picked the worst to begin with and the fears and inhibitions from the past devoured and wrapped me like a cloak. In that sorrow,rage and anger,the bullying I had suffered in school and even at church all flashed by me,my mum and her rage,my misfortunes/mishaps just appeared before me like I was a dying person. And so,I laughed bitterly and told myself I have had enough.

I had no more nerve.

The rest of the story u know. I had all these sessions with a shrink where I cooperated and I also finally told my mother everything that I had wanted to tell her. One night she was crying,because she and I had already moved away from Dad and my brother and mum was upset. I hugged her and told her,she may not have a husband but she had me. We patched up and I've been good with mum ever since. I also stopped hating my brother for being the favourite, and my cousin too. I realized they were also victims from a somwhat dysfunctional family and they weren't allowed to choose their paths either. My cousin told me something that I will always hold dearly. She said she had always looked up to me,and that she had wanted to be me. She said I was always this strong girl,undaunted by anything and always fearless enough to speak my mind. She also said,she knew I had a good heart because while I was mad at the world,I still tried to tell her the good side to things.

:)

If u think it's a happy ending,it is not. It hasn't ended cos erm I'm not dead-yo! But becos of my suicide attempt,I developed some strange monstrous gastritis where I get bouts of attacks,not from under eating but becos I had damaged losta stuff while popping those things.

I wish I can tell u that there are rainbows now,but there are some tough hills I have to climb. And the battle is mine only. I hope and hope with all my heart that I can overcome this battle and be strong. Im finally doing the things I love and pursuing my career in the way I wanted to. There are good people,great opportunities and I hope i can one day live out my goal of making it good for another unfortunate person. Because compared to alot of other kids,what I have is so much better. I didn't fall prey to an evil vice that would cost me my life,nor  was I homeless.I went and worked for things and used creative ideas to pursue my ideals while I was healing. I saw the video Dax made and it made my heart ache to see kids thinking they have no more future because they have given up hoping for one.

Now that I know,my life was almost over sometime back,nothing seems intrinsically that important anymore. It's how u radiate the positive energy or chi that responds directly to the world,it's how u realize that self interests become diminished when there is no self to begin with. And that's when happiness comes when U don't do something or gain something for yourself but see it affecting another person.

That's why,I'm a dreamer and believe me I will get thru this.