28 Feb, Sat 1:21am 

I just realised I last published on my blog exactly 1 year ago. I want to tell that girl who wrote such sad words that she should tell her younger self, "Look, we became an English teacher too."

Her younger self would be squealing in joy. 

I need to be awake at 6am as I have a full day of teaching ahead. But I am choked with emotion. 

5 months and 1 week since I left my previous job, I've finally received a full-time offer. These couple of months haven't been easy at all. I have doubted myself so many times. I have cried and I have ranted to God and I have surrendered to God. I told God, "God, Your way be done. Close the doors that are wrong for me, and open doors of opportunities for me." And God did. 

93 applications, and 10 interviews where I made it to the last round in 5, and withdrew from 2 other interviews, the war is finally over. I received a full-time offer at a fashion brand. 

God You walk before me. You know the paths and the ways meant for me. You see the dangers before me. When You saw me cry, You must have felt so pained. And You must have wished that I could hear You. That I could know of Your plans. That these pain were not in vain.  

I kept praying, and praying, and hurting, and praying. But I believe in You. 

Thank You for blessing me with a husband who loves me dearly, and a mom who always loves and supports me. Thank You for blessing me with the ability to love and give back to others too.

Thank You for loving me. 

28th Feb, Friday 2025

2:06AM 

This is what I wrote, I cried writing it.

I met my younger self for coffee.

She was almost an hour late,

I arrived fifteen minutes past. 

I wore my dark hair in a twirled-up bun, 

Her hair was red and wild, a reckless seventeen.  

I had blue denim jeans on, 

She wore a bodycon dress. 

She had a face full of makeup, 

and her acne marks were peeking through.  

I barely had any. Just enough to look presentable. 

 

She hesitates, then asks, “So did we become a writer?”

I shake my head, no.

I tell her about my role, and she gasps in awe. “Wow, us!” 

I let her bask in delight and stop short of saying more. 

No need to burst her bubble. 

She’s eager to know if we finally meet a guy, 

I show her my rings. 

He’s so much taller than us, I say. He cooks, 

he frustrates us aplenty, but he makes us roll over in laughter. 

She’s dizzy with joy. We've never met anyone at the right time. Phew!

 

She takes a huge sip of her iced matcha latte, 

And she whispers,

“Are ah pa and ma still fighting a lot?” 

My palms are sweaty, and I start fidgeting. 

“No...it’s quiet at home now.”

She looks at me in disbelief, 

And she watches as tears well up in my eyes. 

“Ah pa?”

I nod. 

She’s fighting back tears now,

We sit in silence. 

 

I want to apologize for being weak,

I want to tell her we still don’t have everything figured out, 

Even after turning thirty. 

That I am lost and frightened too. 

 

But I look at her and say,

Everything will get better. You’ll see. 

She looks at me with her watery, glass eyes 

And gives me a light nod of faith. 

She knows her heart will one day be broken, 

But today she will love them more. 

 

I hope we meet for coffee again,

I will give her a tight hug this time.  

I have made it to daylight. 

My husband has gone out to meet a friend, and there's silence in the house, like peace. I love him, but he does watch videos on his desktop in rather loud sounds, deafening at times.

It's the way I am whisked into a different parallel when I have a good book, a cuppa coffee on hand, and the natural rays of daylight shining into our tiny abode. It is the white noise of traffic just beneath the balcony, the cooing of birds, the rustling of people going about their days. It is the quiet in my soul. 

Days like these always brings me back to my younger self all wrapped up in Matilda, highlighting words that I do not understand –– I had many –– but I think I became a bookworm even earlier on in my years. I always loved reading books. Growing up, we never had much money, and I remember how I would ask my mom to buy me more books to read than assessments. Maybe that's why I was never much good at math. I love words, they speak to my soul like nobody else's. The world in itself is chaotic and loud.

I like it when people write in a way that addresses souls. Most people write with big words that nobody could understand, those never left any impression on me.  

 24th Feb, Sunday. 9:53pm 

I came to learn about a term called 'Complicated Grief', it's the grief you come to possess after losing a loved one and it can go on for years. It's not quite depression, and I was glad to learn that. But if it continues to deteriorate, I would be officially depressed. 

I don't quite know what relapses are, emotionally and mentally. 

But I think I have been too actively blocking out traumatic memories and repressing the traumatic moments I witnessed before my father passed on. It's like one moment I'm fine but the next moment these memories hit me, I am frozen. It's a terrible thing to have to go through and know that not for a moment you could be genuinely happy. Unless you repressed the trauma and the guilt, it usually works well - not thinking about what happened because I am too busy. It doesn't go too well when my period is coming and my hormones are all over the place. 

I am hoping the overseas trip would do me well because now I have a mega distraction. I will think about therapy afterwards. 

2 Jan, 2024 03:06pm 

Today marks a year since my father passed. 

I thought I would be engulfed with grief, but instead I feel kind of empty and dead inside. 

There is sadness, and a grasping at memories to not forget, and there's hollowness. 

Over the past year, I watched my mom lose herself and how sadness wrapped around her 

She has been so lonely, and I have been trying my best to be there 

But I also watched her gain her freedom, her joys, her finally being able to live more for herself 

I do not know what is better for her, or for us 

But I do know we have to accept and move on with life 

Truth is, I don't think I will ever be okay visiting my father's grave 

It feels too young, too early, too wrong 

I remember him finally deciding to fight for his life 

and yet how little by little, he whittled away 

and how I do not know if it is better for him, or for us 

It hurts a lot still 

And I know I should seek therapy 

I wonder how it's like on the other side 

And where my father would be 

I hope it is heaven, heaven would be nice 

Dear God, be with my father, and be with my family 

Love and protect us, guard us from pain.

14 Sept 11:11pm 

I got married as planned on 28 May. My father wasn't there but I saved him a seat. I felt hypocritical - when you were around I was always fearful you would make my wedding an unpleasant one, but without you, it did not feel complete. 

I married a man you detested, simply because he is a Christian. I wonder if deep down you truly hated him, or you were just so angry at your predicament you wanted to throw your anger at everyone in your way. 

I hate that I am not okay at all - isn't it strange - we were never close. Most of the times we were angry at each other, on a few good occasions we were there for each other. Or mainly I was there for you - after you became fragile and helpless. It pained my heart - it pained me how much I wanted to and tried to stay away so I wouldn't experience your helplessness. Now I wouldn't have to anymore. Yet I am not okay. 

I guess I am my father's daughter after all. 

I grew up treading around your fury that when you are gone, the huge wall of silence obliterated me. I read that once you've experienced grief, you start to hold onto and cherish whatever you have even more. I couldn't bear the same for mom, and yet I hope all of us - our whole family - could have banded to make different decisions for your life together. Then again, how could we - you were such a narcissist. 

Sometimes I wonder how my siblings are coping - I wonder how my brother is coping. I worry about him - and I feel sorry I got married so soon. I wish I had more time with them. All I could think of back then was to escape everything I was facing at home. 

I did love my father, and I miss him too. 

It's been 9 months since you left, and I don't think I will ever be okay. I just hope I am better able to deal with it. God, help me. 

 27th May, Sat 2:33am

A moth came to visit. I believe it's my father and he knows I am getting married. Things will never be the same again, but I will always be my parents' little girl. 

I thought I will be happy that I'm getting married but I find myself crying a lot this week. 

It feels like I am leaving my mom and brother behind. 

I am getting married on 28th May and I have saved you a seat. 

Please feel happy for me.