A Holiday

I had a 4 days off for new year holiday and it felt goddam good.

That 4 days gave me spaces to breath, like really breath without anticipation of something waiting for me around the corner. It felt different from the previous holidays, when I took 10 days off to travel, discovering the unknown, then crying myself on the way back home, scared to be chained to responsibilities that was shoved my way, resposibilities ride my mental and drained my blood. Resposibilities I kept wonder, did those belong to me in the first place? Or I voluntarily claimed them to be mine?

Hmm, holiday looked more like a prison break before. Time to escape from the daily routine I talked myself to live in, mostly because it's out of my comfort zone. I thought, this what grew up meant, waking up to the fear of the unknown, fighting for a chance to prove myself's worth. Sometimes it's so uncomfortable, my hands turned cold and trembled, my mind went blank, what I knew was trying to hold my breath as long as possible, until I felt like fainting from dizziness. The next time it happened again, I would push myself to hold it longer and longer, until I lost the cue to be back inhaling the air. No wonder I cried at the end of the holiday. It meant going back to the version of life I thought I had to go through to become someone I aspired to be. And that version of life was something encouraged, by those pinterest quotes, by those unicorn leaders, by the whispering neighbours, by my partners, by me, against my better judgement that there's ways to achieve that without sacrificing my sanity and sleeping hours. It's hard.

That 4 days gave me opportunity to be myself, to listen to what I wanted and needed. I didn't feel the need to put my phone deep in the closet, a way to avoid phone calls or texts or emails. I didn't feel the need to runaway to an isolated place, somewhere out of reception, somewhere less crowded with humans. I didn't need a celebration, toasting my freedom of should haves and must bes. I was staying inside at home, waking up slow, grabbing a book and spending the whole morning flipping till the very last page. Digging food out of the fridge, having sandwich with a little bit of everything I found while enjoying the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I was lying still, staring to the sky, thinking how good it was to remember the sensation of air filling my lung, circulating blood to my brain, delivering warmth to the tip of my fingers. I didn't plan anything, except spontanious run to the grocery or a visit to the book store. I didn't obligage myself to be somewehere or with someone in a designed time. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't escaping anything. I was my own captain, embracing my guts and will. It felt good to return the faith to my own belief, letting myself took a chance on, well, myself.

I feel great. I feel like stepping forward. I feel like leaving 2019 and 2020 in the past, two chapters that extraordinarily complicated and exhausting and also precious. Two chapters that make me who Iam when I'm writing this.

What a holiday :)

The Toast of The Town

Here Iam, back at a coffee shop, sitting alone writing. At this rate, I don't think this habit will ever grow old on me. I do wonder if there's ever a point in my life, that I let someone else join me.

That's actually a question I address for 2021. What will it bring to the table? What's the trick under the sleeves? I hope the latest technology will be able to tell me at least the tip of it, but after 2020 happening, I guess human race now realize that plot twist is real. And we should be very thoughtful on what we do next, cause there's no guarantee there will be "next time" for us.

For me, 2020 is a wake up call and a slap in the face, and light sleeps at night dreaming about somebody who will hold me thight when I cry and weep and complain about my incapability, how my head is sometimes a riddle for me, those worries and anxieties I can't quite express through word, but the pain is very real banging in my chest. This year has been my biggest break, when I learn to be really patience about myself, understanding that what I think as set backs might just a resting point before continuing my journey. I'm trying my very best not to be mad at myself that the Jengga I built crumbled earlier this year. I'm trying my hard to get out of the ruin that becomes more and more like a cemetery with only names in my mind, I can't quite recall the face. No one will be able to go on living if she keeps wondering around the death. Even though letting go is more likely a concept for me, maybe with practice I can finally grasp a grip about that.

I humbly think that I won't survive this year without my support system. There's moment when I was so close on pulling the trigger, but I didn't, that mostly because I still had so many reasons for staying and making it works. And everytime I find my way to come back to those reasons, I feel truly saved. So I do want to call a toast for my friends, who's been listening to the crack in my voice when I'm mad, who's been leaving me alone when I need to gather my thought and casually remind me if lunch time is coming. I want to call a toast for my current boss, for giving me hope and courage to start believing again. I want to call toast for my brother and sister, for the late night drive and difficult conversation, for baring almost everything on the table just so we can understand each others languange better, for grilling my chicken tenderly the way I like it, for provoking my rage and deepest fear to later nurse my exploading pulse into a harmony. Without one of them, I'm scared to think where I'll end up. And with every single one of them, I feel like I can also understand myself better.

I'm virtually popping a Chianti and rise my glass for them.

The Last Straw

I had an argument with my parents yesterday. It's the same problem all over again, but with different turn in the end. I give up. My heart gives it up. I don't think I can't stay and still keep my sanity. Or, still keep my own identity. It asks too much out of me. I'm probably too little for the so called family.

Was I sad? Hmm, at first. I cried. Upset. Then I slept till noon. When I woke up I went to the gym, joined Hatha then Combat class. I breathed then I punched. Going home, I felt relieved. Things carried on as usual. I woke up this morning by the sound of rain. I told myself to breath, cause sleeping lately has been disorientating. There's no particular emotion in me, just, doing the usual. But I think I'm fine. I don't relapse to scary state of mind like the one I had in July.

I'm fine.