Give me an island to dock

“So what is your new role?”

The question stumped me, I bullshitted an answer I cannot now remember. Two weeks ago, I started a new job in a new company, with a brand new role and job scope. It’s been a pivot I have been hoping and wishing for at least a year. That same week, my dad was admitted to the emergency department for bilious vomit due to bowel obstruction. We later learned the cancer has advanced and he can no longer do anymore treatment. Last week, they moved him to the palliative ward. As of this moment, he’s still in hospital, and I am still working in a job where I have not idea what I’m doing.

This career move has been something my dad was super supportive about, in fact when I received the offer and was wondering if I should accept it, he said I would regret if I didn’t. Hence the beginning of this new career. A career that requires steep learning curves and harsher work demands, all at a time when your dad is fighting for his dear life. How is life this cruel?

He dreaded the fact that I wanted to take time off to spend time with him. He even insisted I shouldn’t tell my new manager about his situation (but I did, too bad). He would get annoyed when I FaceTimed him during work hours, insisting I should “concentrate” on my new job. He was livid when I skipped Friday night work drinks to see him in hospital, even accusing me of being “shy” as a reason for not attending it.

People get dumbfounded when they hear I’m still working, even as my dad is going through such a critical stage of his cancer. I can see and feel their confusion. I’ll be very honest, I’m very confused too.

What people don’t see is the anxiety attacks I get when I am alone or even behind the wheel. The spontaneous tears when I hear a worship song that sings about God’s goodness when I am threading water with all my might with no end in sight. They tell me I’m “strong” because of the normal things I’m doing, trying my best to carry through a normal life when things seems to be on fire. He insists he doesn’t want me at the hospital to “sit and stare” at him all day. To be fair, he doesn’t even have much energy to entertain me. Living out a normal life and proving to him that I will be okay if the worst happens, is the best I can do.

My dad is still clinging on to hope and a miracle. So are we. But the medical teams tell us otherwise. We don’t know the prognosis because we respect my dad’s decision of not knowing it. But the uncertainty of it all, GOD IT HURTS. It hurts seeing your dad suffer and not knowing if he can survive this, how long this will go for. I’m praying with all my might, I don’t even know if I’m doing it right anymore.

I have been blessed to be still connected to church, to have friends who check in on me daily. In fact, a different friend checks in on me daily, I am beyond blessed to even have that many friends to check in on me, I’m shookd and blessed. While it’s nice to spread out the burden of my emotional and mental wellbeing, it’s also exhausting to reiterate things to Friend B the things you shared with Friend A the day before. Because its a different check-in person and they don’t know the story from A-Z, they cannot get the context of how you are feeling. For the first time in my life, I understood why my dad kept telling me to get a life partner and why maybe a life partner is actually not emotionally exhausting (a concept I’ve told myself for years).

Now is obviously not the time to go on the street and whip one out for daily emotional support. One of my dad’s recent conversations with me in hospital was to get a good life partner, he hopes I consider one soon. But really with all the heaviness in this atmosphere, who’d want to get in that? My experience over the last 3 years of my dad’s cancer journey was that some guys see this as a red flag. Who’s gonna voluntarily jump into this? The idea of jumping into something just for emotional support and give my dad comfort that I have one, is such an insane idea (that may or may not have crossed my mind). My normal sane self has slapped me-self across the cheek. I mean, imagine the Hinge and CMB profile descriptions for this request. [“Ill-dad would like to see me with partner, not sure how long he has left, emotional support also needed, tq.“]
People rent boyfriends in China for Chinese New Year, do they run this business for children with terminal ill parents? (if you are my friend reading this, feel free to slap me again in person, because I am writing this at 12am and probably not mentally sound.)

I don’t know how long more this journey will go, how long more I am threading water. The currents of this ocean feels like its getting stronger and I quite honestly don’t know how long I can last for. I’m praying for an island to dock soon, or maybe a lifeboat, to carry me to this island. Like something, something tangible, something certain. I know God is good and I am still clinging to hope and His victory that’s been won. I really do want my dad to pull through this. I can only hold on to faith right now but it feels like a floaty.

Give me an island God, give me a lifeboat, help me swim, give me endurance for this race please.

nbn – not being nice

Do you have any prayer requests today? – “I want internet…”

I cringed the second I muttered those three words, it was the epitome of a first world trivial issue, in a time where people are dying from a respiratory disease and trying to keep their jobs. But I was 3 seconds too deep into this prayer request in a 12 person zoom life group (which I was lurking back and forth via Internet and Dial-up), to retract this prayer request would be equally as embarrassing as mentioning in the first place. It’s like letting people open up to a “Message Deleted” on WhatsApp group chat, but already seeing the message preview on their notifications. LOL.

nbn is The Australian Gov’s way of over-complicating the internet service for all ordinary Australians, allowing to more public servants to receive extra commissions in the name of “serving”. Yes, this is coming from another public servant. I’ve never known the true meaning behind this acronym for our Gov’s fancy new service and I can’t be bothered finding out, because plainly, it’s just not being nice – to me. We’ve moved into a nice brand new build-home, just in time to be locked down in it, with no internet. My neighbour in this duplex has it and I’ve been rotating through all the call-centres in the Philippines for an ISP that can provide me a decent internet/nbn technician appointment, explaining to them the geography of my location because, they truly, do not know. This is a product of globalisation, asking third-worlds to solve a first-world problem. I’ve been sending my mobile phones to the freezer to survive their overheating episodes while I do video-conferencing for work, getting redirected to the Philippines again via a Sydney number and hot-spotting for my desktop. Again, a first-world nightmare.

I have gone cold-turkey on Youtube and Netflix over the past week, as someone who survived the Victorian Stage 4 lockdown solely on those two services, I am distraught, given that we are in this 3rd lockdown. This probably explains my second day of consecutive blogging because clearly, texts take up less data that videos…

But yes, amongst this “distressing” trivial issues which a 6-month younger self would roll her eyes upon, I am extremely grateful for an otherwise smooth transition to this house. Any move would not be a move without a hiccup, something is surely bound to happen and what is a God journey without its challenges. No one, including a pastor’s wife, is spared.

My heart dropped when we heard one of the pastor’s wives at church got cancer 2 days ago, she was one of the few individuals who stepped up and prayed so fervently when my own dad was going through cancer himself (still is, but more stable now Hallelujah). Her faith and her kindness was so beyond what I could ever imagine, she was smart and she was goals. What awed me the most was when she said, that she was “at peace”, despite being scheduled in for an emergency procedure in 2 days time.

I was pretty sure my friend who asked me for any prayer requests was probably looking in for an update about my dad. I’ve been so grateful and blessed to be placed in a diverse group of people (many not that connected to church so I know they won’t be victims of Chinese Whispers), who pray for each other, regardless of circumstance or closeness in our friendships/relationships.

Although, I don’t what half of these people are going through, but they all know so much about what I went through last year that I feel borderline selfish in hogging prayers (now about my internet, omg! the audacity!) Yes I am a bit self-critical with my prayer-requests, don’t @ me, it’s a first world church-goer problem.

While I’m here analysing the trivialisation of prayers, God’s probably laughing at me (or not, maybe borderline confused/annoyed). I do know that He is sovereign and there is no problem that is too big or too small for Him to handle. Yes, a bit of youth leader/Sunday school talk right here. I just needed to take this whole round with myself because, I was not being nice to myself. I gave this exact talk to my youth group when they asked me what they can request in prayers. When I said “anything”, I ended up praying for the girls to get “bigger boobs”, because it was 80% of the prayer requests, from a demographic of 16-17 year old high school girls.

While there is no such thing as an absurd prayer, I have also learnt over the years that not ALL prayers necessarily get answered (or probably just extremely delayed) because God has His own timings. I’ve learned to revolve my prayers around God’s plan and His timing, to help me learn to accomodate and accept His ways and plans for my life, to guide me through the journey that He has laid out for me. I’ve learnt to surrender my issues, my father’s health and life, my plans, into His hands. We would never have that blueprint to that plan for our lives and it’s that blind-faith and peace I really aspire to have just like our pastors wife.

I have no nice conclusion to this piece but… please leave a comment if you actually know me, because I just realised I have far more real-life lurkers than I thought (I forget, I’m sorry). This whole time I always thought I’m talking to myself and a bunch of virtual Russian/US readers or potentially bots…. (it’s what the stats tell me).

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A Rude Awakening

You know you’ve spent too long on social media over the last 14 days when you actually laugh and find the below trends relatable, if not, completely ridiculous. But let’s be honest, with majority of the world’s civilised population under house arrest, we are all beginning to go mad and I’m one of them. My participation being the Dalgona coffee.

I’m currently typing this with a 4 year old sheet mask that I bought from my trip in Sth Korea in 2017. I bulk bought 84 pieces, with the promises of ‘baby smooth skin’, which is exactly what I need to show the world once I emerge from this quarantine. Baby Smooth Skin.

Jokes aside. I have been dry coughing over the last 10 days or so, essentially the whole time of my house arrest. Things have been just that, aside from the placebo effects of having shortness of breathe and thinking I’m gonna die… until today, when I developed chills and body aches.

My temperature has been relatively stable at 37.5 (Celsius)  or under, largely above 37 through the in ear thermometer. I’m not sure if my current symptoms have been resulted by the obsessive refreshing of COVID-19 on my phone and TV, or that I have been really infected. The national COVID hotline says I do not qualify for testing and that I should wait…. 14 days. Which is till next Monday. DO. BETTER. AUSTRALIA.

Like many privileged young asians growing up, I was exposed to a largely more western upbringing, with a reasonable exposure to western media. My young naive self used to even think I was a step above the rest of my Asian peers back home because of my birthright as an Australian, how dumb, I admit. This was also largely influenced by our own parents, who deemed the West having a better education and sending us abroad to continue our studies. The peers I mixed with had a pretty similar upbringing with myself and we looked up towards the western influences, as if, somehow or a rather, they were deemed superior in terms of civilisation or some sort. (Admitting this makes my blood curl)

But it took years, including my move back to Australia, to realise the mistakes and the idiocy I had as a child and the way we were brought up. I began to appreciate my culture, in fact embraced it all the more as I lived in a more westernised society. I was appalled by the way my white co-workers found a part of Asian culture foreign, such as bubble tea. When I had accustomed myself to so many of their ways, how dare to they not recognise a part of my own? It then brought to my realisation, that we asians have been so much more cultured in both western and eastern influences due to our unconscious idolisation of the west. While the west, have been so comfortable in their own ways and being reassured by various other cultures (like ourselves), that their ways are indeed, superior. Why do they need to get acquainted with stuff like bubble tea and udon when they have Starbucks and Pasta???

COVID-19 has been a rude awakening for us all.

I believe the graph speaks for itself. The flattening of the curve and the successful curbing of the virus, has been in predominantly developed Asian countries. Heck, even Malaysia, the developing nation I grew up in that had a bigger spike than Australia last week, has successfully beat Australia in maintaining a lower number of infection rates because of quick decisive Government action (and their Gov is shit). This speaks volumes.

The western countries that we have historically looked up upon are currently in shambles, receiving aid from the country that created the outbreak itself, CHINA.

I don’t know who needs to read this, or if you’re that asian kid watching Netflix/Disney right now wishing that your hair was blonde. Trust me honey, save that energy of pointless admiration. Stand proud. Believe in our abilities.

True resilience comes from those who have risen from western oppression.

CNY reflections

It’s the first day of Chinese New Year, the first one I’m spending alone. My brother is at work and my family is back in Malaysia, feasting away. I spent both the eve and today eating meat pies for dinner. I also visited the doctor today, to find out that the ear sore on my left ear is pretty sever, if it doesn’t subside in the next 2 days, I need to go to the hospital as an ’emergency’. I can’t really move the left part of my face, the swelling is spreading but I am adamant on not taking painkillers, which baffled my doctor.

I’m trying my best to not make this as depressing as it seems, so I decide to watch a CNY movie on Netflix, called ‘Us and Them’. In true Asian movie fashion, it’s a sad ending, the couple has the best teenage love story, only to end up not together 10 years later, the girl still financially struggling and single at present and the boy, now a thriving millionaire.

Holy Shit.

I was trying to make myself feel better okay. I’m trying to make the New Year less depressing. Now my body decides to build up a fever to combat this infection, turns out when I really need Panadol, my house doesn’t have any.

But it’s okay.

The movie, as depressing as it is, paralleling my present situation, shows that I’m not the only one. To know that there are people out there having it worse than me on a New Year, probably financially struggling, and I have my meat pie in sunny Melbourne.

Chinese new Year is the only festivity I looked forward to growing up, it means family. Even as a Christian now, CNY trumps Christmas (we don’t even give each other presents or own a Christmas tree), my house has lanterns and red packets over presents, any day.

I guess you can say, there is a first for everything. It’s the first time I’m not with my family, the first time my brother has to work on a CNY night. But it’s not the first time alone. I am not as depressed as I thought I would be, as weird as it sounds, typing it all out, sounds depressing af, especially since this festive season means so much to me growing up. But I am documenting this down, because I know there will be better times, to cherish the moments more often, to appreciate the happier moments. While this is not my happiest moment, I know it gets better.

I was eating my meat pie mid blogging and realise it was still frozen inside but continued to eat anyway because, seriously celebs at this point.

Year of the Pig,

My year of the Dog has officially passed, lesser of an excuse to be a bitch this year round. I used to love to read the zodiac scopes to see what’s in store for me in the zodiac year, have my aunts predict some ‘fortune’ and read the zodiac posters hanging around the malls as CNY decorations. There have been years that claim that my love life will thrive and I can tell you, as I enter this 25th year, it hasn’t.

So what ever piggy has in store for me this year, I have no idea. In case you’re wondering where this is going, don’t worry, I still love Jesus. Whatever blog post, no matter how distant I feel from God, I know He’s there. Yes, it’s been a current period of deliberation, soul-searching and figuring out how I am going to make out of my final moments of university alive and thriving, dealing with my brother who still acts like a 10 year old on ADHD but this time with alcohol and parties. I know He’s there, as I enter this new year, a lot of things going on and NOT going on, but I’ll make it, He’ll make it, we’ll make it together still. Like every relationship, it goes through rough patches and I’m sure we’ll come out stronger, me loving God harder.

Meanwhile, I wish you all my lovely humans a very blessed Chinese New Year. May love and happiness come to you always, even though it’s not realistic and if it doesn’t, you’ll be fine, you’ll come out of it stronger.

❤