Roti fluffs

As I type this, I am no longer a uni student. It’s only been slightly over 2 months and I still have a bit of separation anxiety from that 7 year journey of tertiary education. Am I really that sick? But in all seriousness, it’s a big relief. HUGE in fact, to no longer have to scramble to my readings after a vigorous 8 hour day of corporate bullshit in the office.

I have been doing some serious reflections over the past couple of months since it ended, especially on the last 6 months. In all seriousness, that monumental 6 months made all my ‘cries’ on ‘hardship’ and ‘mental strength’ from 2018 and before look like a joke. Newsflash is that my dad, who was a stage 4 lung cancer patient, pulled through his last scan with no cancer cells found. I know. absolutely. monumental. God is amazing and prayers are powerful. But just after 2 days of celebration, I discovered, through a random decision to scan my boobs, that the lump I had in my right breast in 2016 was back. hoo, ray.

If anything, seeing my dad pull through made me less fearful about what I have. I know God is sovereign. Yes it felt shit at first, but just like all the other days, I told myself that I have no time to lose and wallow in self-pity because, life. just. goes. on.

If I were to sum up the past 6 months, it’d be like the preparation of one of my favourite Malaysian delicacies, the roti.

Image result for roti canai making

I felt being tossed and stretched in every direction possible, whacked down to the ground with so much force and heat and before I can recover, whacked across again. I have lost the number of times I was whacked and tossed, but I knew that each time I did, I got up.

But like every good piece of roti, with each toss and stretch comes a fluffier layer, with every strong landing on heat comes a crispiness essential for the taste. In hindsight, I see God’s purpose in this, despite the pain and hurt through this process of trying to keep myself together in the absolute shittiest of times, God has a good receipe.

If anything, I am grateful for 2019. I’m thankful for these struggles and the times I made myself get out of bed to get to work instead of calling for a sick day (which my manager has generously allowed in my circumstance). I am proud of myself to stick to my readings and pull through my last exam strong, despite the burnt out nights after work and dealing with the troubles at home. These are things pre2019 Juan would never know she could do. I still remembered the day I found out about my dad’s condition and breaking down in a way I never knew was physically possible, I literally had my world fall apart in slow motion in front of my eyes. Something I had only seen in movies but never replicated in real life, it’s like fiction of cancer which I always saw on screen had swarmed out from the TV and into my life.

I never knew what real insomnia was till this year, what loss of appetite meant and that you could actually get a migraine from crying. I pulled through. It was a mental stretch, literally a roti cooking session but just in an emotional and mental form.

That being said, I am so ready for 2020, as much as I am grateful for this year, I am ready to end it. 2020 doesn’t know what’s coming. I have been through the cooking season 2020, I am the fluffiest roti ever rn and boy don’t you know what’s coming.

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