i had an obsession with the name ‘Sarah’ since i was 15. that’s because a good friend, Sarah, or the ‘Golden Girl’ as i called her, passed away then. i never wanted to forget her. and so i held on to everything that she owned, including her name.
‘Sarah’ is Hebrew for ‘princess’, a Biblical name from the Old Testament. those were days when i had never considered ever getting baptised though i did want to be a Christian or already was, in my beliefs. but i always thought that i would want to call myself Sarah… or rather, Sera, just so i would feel closer to her.
Sera is short for Seraphina, the angel of love. also Biblical… or maybe from apocalyptic writings. is it apocalyptic…? i forget what texts that are not canonically recognised are called.
in any case, when i eventually started RCIA and it occured to me that i had a chance to choose a name, if i wanted, i assumed i would choose ‘Sera’. i didn’t even give it much thought… firstly, because it was just a name… and it wasn’t even as if i didn’t already have a name… and secondly, because i was just so sure it would be ‘Sera’ i didn’t have to consider other alternatives.
some of my friends thought it would be that too.
yet for some strange reason, when i was to submit a name for my certificate, i didn’t offer ‘Sera’. instead, i stuck to my name.
two questions come to mind now. i’m not sure if it came to my mind then but my thoughts were along similar lines as these questions now:
Will you die for the one you love?
(i would, if i don’t prove to be a coward when it comes down to that)
Will you live for the one you love?
That is much harder, i feel. imagine you have to watch a loved one die and you’re wishing you can die with him since you imagine yourself to be dead without that person by your side anyway… and he turns to you and asks you for the one thing that is probably the biggest request he can make… that you continue to live well and be happy. can you make that promise, knowing that you will be mourning and grieving and missing him for the rest of your life? can you promise to be happy when you are not confident you will ever be again?
and because you love him so much, you promise him: “Yes, i will be happy for you. i will LIVE.”
thoughts like that were on my mind as i decided to promise to follow God. i doubt i will have problems feeling sad and being downcast in life because i tend to swing towards negativity and depressive thoughts. it’s not difficult to dwell on problems and difficulties.
but could i be happy for Him? after all He’s done for me and after this gift of faith and life He’s given me, can i be Happy for Him?
i don’t know. i’m not confident that i can. but i want to try and i want to commit to that. and so, i stuck with my name. and i’m glad i did. because ‘Sera’ isn’t me. my name is. and it’s been my name all along. i read a story before that God has already called us by name before we agree to be with Him. He has already written our names. it’s a nice story… fiction probably, to think that He has literally given us a name.
but i understood then as i understand now… what it means to be called by name. because my name is my inspiration… and it only means this much to me, as others’ names have that same effect on them… to this day, whenever i am down or feel sad, i try to recall why i settled on this name and it helps. because God doesn’t want me to be sad… He wants me to be joyful!
if only i remember it more often!
i am wondering, how much of our happiness or unhappiness is tied to our own expectations?
it’s unreasonable to say we should not have expectations… for we all do. a lot of them are probably valid as it helps us realise who we really are through the boundaries of where we draw our lines or where we hope friendships can be forged with people who don’t cross those lines with the ways they treat us or behave.
but i think… a lot of our expectations are not what we even really believe in… but things that consciously or not, we incorporate into our lives and conform to, because they SEEM to be as they should be.
and it took a woman, who, i am ashamed to say, is someone whom i have not given due respect to, to show me how blinded i am sometimes.
over the weekend, we celebrated bak kwa’s birthday and N.G. was there. she told us many fascinating stories. leaving aside the gross and unnecessary ones, we’ll talk about the colourful ones she shared.
if you have heard her stories, you will understand why us girls floated off into dreamland – where we walk amongst clouds in a different pair of shoes everyday… fly free with a brand new outfit every 2 hours… or accessorise according to the different shades of the sky.
she’s got SIX STACKERS (what ARE stackers???) of earrings… walk-in (into ROOMS) closets of clothes… so many that she has to store some of her clothes in Bird Fool’s WAREHOUSE!
let’s not go into shoes and bags and watches because i will end up daydreaming the rest of the day. and she seems really happy.
now, some of the girls said, why wouldn’t she be when she’s got so much???
i agree, of course. but i suspect it’s got to do more with “Expectations” than how much she has in her life.
i am impressed not by how much she’s got but how happy she has kept herself. i am confident that i can have SIX stackers of earrings and warehouses of clothes, shoes, bags, (AND BOOKS!!!) and i might not be as happy as her.
it’s not about the possessions. one can have everything in the world and feel empty. but not N.G.
she was there alone without her hubs whereas there were a few other married couples there… and she was enjoying herself thoroughly.
she admitted freely that Bird Fool was not like some of the other hubbies – he’s more ‘MCP’ *hahahaa*… and i can still hear the love in her voice.
i like to tell people who share problems about their relationships, “if it works for the two of you, then IT WORKS”. because no two relationship can be the same. and ultimately, if your partner fails you, and the world judges him/her accordingly, you are the only one who can really understand where he/she is coming from and where they have crossed your lines AND what those lines are made of exactly.
unfortunately, not even all friends are as honest nowadays. they only share the beautiful parts of their relationships, sometimes, i feel, to paint that perfect picture so as to hide the cracks. maybe it’s to prove they are happy. but to whom?
true friends actually share the cracks. and those instances can bring so much relief and comfort to another who is wondering about their own cracks in their relationships. and because honest opinions are given and stories shared, about relationships or any other kinds of setbacks we face in life, i find that everyone is essentially going through the same situations.
there is no PERFECT relationship, PERFECT job, PERFECT family.
ultimately, and what’s most important to me, i learn that there is no PERFECT person who just seems to have everything made and have absolutely no problem in their lives.
there is no need to ask, “How come some people can handle it so well and manage so well AND I CAN’T?”
NO. not all handle it that well. i think those who can, are able to share where they have failed or where they are stumbling. the rest just prettify their situations… possibly because they have the same doubts we do… thinking how come they are the only ones who can’t seem to get it together.
and this is why i am impressed by N.G. she’s not ashamed of who she is. she knows her values and what she stands for. she loves to party. at her age, that is, my mum’s age, she can party harder than a lot of us. and Bird Fool is not like that. and he doesn’t like her to party and he doesn’t like to be with her when she does. i’m sure she’s got her fair share of problems to deal with… what happens when she wants him there but he doesn’t want to be?
and one can see that, despite her strong character, she is actually quite submissive to Bird Fool. that’s actually very endearing to watch. (on an aside, i attended a conference on Marriage Spirituality and one participant spoke about her submission to her husband, backing it with Ephesians and what struck me was the same thing – how Happy she is with that. Happy, not just accepting.)
now my question is – if a woman’s nature is different from a man’s, in that women generally assume more care-giving and nurturing roles, possibly because we are built that way, who sold us the concept of being “little women”, making us unhappy when we play a “little woman”, when perhaps, inside, we are ok playing that role?
hmmm…. i’m not sure. i like to be strong and independent so that not every thing that falls across my path turns my world upside-down, and to know that i can take care of myself and make my own decisions but truth be told, i am a “little woman” inside. my reconciliation between the two lies here – that i am independent enough to MAKE MY OWN DECISION to want to be a housewife and take care of my kids and send them to school and back… and clean the house and wait for my husband to come home.
man, i think i’m ageing. 
i’ve been asked to return to the advertising world.
i don’t want to move because i like the job and i honestly am only beginning to get the hang of doing it.
there are so many reasons why i don’t want to be in that industry:
i don’t believe in the work and so i lose sight so easily of the reasons why i do what i do.
there are too many people with too many different masks – there’s seldom much sincerity in the friendships forged.
well, ok, maybe it’s just 2 reasons after all. with No. 1 as the biggest push factor.
yet the invitation has once again, awakened something lying dormant… in my blood.
of course, there are other reasons that i consider… for example, getting a few hundred dollars more each month, and with subsequent better advancements… which means i don’t have to scrimp and save each month, and i don’t have to feel guilty when i shop or just want to spend money… i get to pamper myself a lot more…
… and i get to provide my family with more.
i suppose this was not a big concern growing up. the family was doing pretty well then. but not anymore. and with grandpa’s passing, it made me very aware that from here on, the next people to go will be my parents… so while they are here, i want to give them more. and i want to have money to pay for their hospital bills should they need to be warded in future.
yesterday’s sharing reaffirmed these thoughts. the question was, who are we responsible for? it’s like a call that rang again – my parents. i am responsible for them now.
as the only Catholic in the family, it makes, made it difficult for my parents to explain to my grandparents what i do. it’s difficult for me too… i wonder if they’re embarrassed. not that i’m ashamed. it’s just suddenly all coming together. i’m really not complaining. i’m just wondering.
i told Mr C about this and he said, “Be Christian.” i know… i told him.
“but i’m 27!” i protested.
actually, i’m still 26. there’s a part of me that wants and craves the things every young thing wants.
gosh… i miss the energy… the adrenaline…
and even as i scoff at how shallow the party-going can get, boy, are they great parties!
i miss the late nights… the exhaustion…
the wining, drinking, smoking, idle chatting, bitching…
i miss going to work the next day zombified because of another meaningless night of partying but have half the office as zonked as you.
i wrote something like this a month or so ago… probably repeating the same materials.
but that damned invitation is stirring my blood wild.
believe me, i like the job i have now. i never have to question why i’m writing a certain article, or at least, not the way i used to. i don’t question the integrity of my role… and the best part is, i don’t think there’s a better place i can go to.
AND YET!!!
it’s just one of those love-hate relationships. well, ok, i hate everything about the advertising industry, everything but the generous spurts of adrenaline.
and that, i miss… quite a lot actually.
*sigh*
here i am… at 8.13pm on a Tuesday night, munching MacDonald’s fries that my colleague, skyvva, bought me for dinner.
tomorrow is printing day for the paper. i have not worked this late for a long, long time. right now, i am filled with a sense of deja vu and nostalgia all rolled up snugly together.
yes, i am thinking of the old life. the old life filled with endless late nights, not enough sleep, hours of waiting and too much cigarettes and booze to stay awake and to reassure ourselves we have a life, all at the same time.
the advertising industry is everything the imagination perceived it to be – every bit as “glamorous” (glamour being a sham for the ugliness beneath, as even the imagination couldn’t mask), bitchy (call it survival or instinct or, for some, nature) and fast-paced. ironically, i thrived on the adrenaline, nothing else.
it’s been said that you need faith to survive in the advertising world. otherwise, you won’t be able to pull through all the self-doubts and uncertainties. well, for the Creatives at least.
the problem is, i didn’t have that faith to begin with. i went into advertising because firstly, it was a viable option that seemed like fun but mostly, because someone i loved had told me that i wouldn’t be able to – that i was just daydreaming.
looking back, those days were thoroughly exhausting. and it was that, which kept me going.
exchanged some SMSes with Mr Cheong just last week. he’s left for greener pastures and according to him, the grass IS greener at the destination that he’s arrived at. good for him. and he asked if i miss the fast life.
OH YES I DO!!!! I MISS IT SO DAMN MUCH!!!
but i know how this works. who wants to settle for the simple and nice life when they can have the exciting and passionate one? not me. well, not always.
do i regret my decision? absolutely not. i know exactly why i left. it was the life, the culture i like, not the job, not the work.
so i still look back on those days with a lot of affection but i am happy as hell that i’m in a place that resembles less of that, despite the cacophony and the insane exchanges happening around me everyday.
and yes, i am working “late” in the office. late by the standards here… but it would have just been the start of the second half of the work day previously.
love the quiet, the night, the stillness in the office… time to do what i want to do, at my own pace, in my own way. best thing is, i am perfectly happy here.
contentment is a big substitute for ecstasy, especially when the ecstacy isn’t real to begin with.
it has been said that you know you’re in trouble when you look in the mirror and you cannot stand to see your own reflection.
i tried that last night and i could. but i still knew i was in trouble because i didn’t see who i feel i am. i saw an outwardly chirpy with what can be passed off as confident, reflection. yet i was trembling with great fear and vulnerability as the reflection looked back at me.
“you’re not very nice anymore,” a dear friend told me last night. “you bite. and you bite hard.” i agree whole-heartedly that i bite hard these days. and it sickens me. but i disagree that i’m not very nice anymore. in the midst of feeling this sharp stab of pain in my heart, the question arose in my mind, “how can there be this disparity?”
how can i know that i am still a nice person but also recognise that i bite hard these days? oh well, one more step forward to regain Lost Self.
Life is such an irony. and it sometimes seems that Irony exists just to prove that you are totally blinded when you think you are most clear-sighted; and also to show that your efforts are futile beyond comprehension and there only for you to have a jeer at yourself.
i had thought that i finally knew who i was after 24 years of my life. for i found myself in a state of grace where there was always a lingering peace within me that lifted me beyond mere human emotions. THAT was real. but i basked in it too long and refused to grow along with it.
in holding on to that invulnerability so tightly, i had somehow exchanged that state of grace for a cheap cloak for protection. and i didn’t even know a switch had been made!
how stupid, how foolish… how utterly selfish and inexcusable!
it really isn’t a very pleasant feeling to uncover lousy traits about yourself that you cannot even make excuses for. and it took a dear friend to point out these flaws.
the vulnerability i feel now is incredibly suffocating and hurting. but i embrace it because it means i have managed to unravel the misguided notions i had enshrouded myself in and led me to become who i am today.
in the last week, i learnt that being independent and strong does not require me to be aggressive. i need only be persevering and let God do the rest.
although it only took one week to discard that filthy, cheap cloak, it’s going to take a longer time to put together a new one with better values and more honest means… and then to don it.
and sometimes, it really takes an old friend or one brutally honest enough to help you make that change. if your ugliness hasn’t chased them away yet.
like to clear up a simple technicality. an empath does not necessarily mean that one is naturally empathetic as well.
an empath is merely someone who’s able to feel a lot, to be able to completely understand what someone else is feeling in a particular situation.
i don’t boast to know for sure that i am an empath. i just like the term, the word, the wiccan image.
and for sure, i FEEL way too much. but it was something i asked for.
long, long time ago, back when i was a kid, i used to think that i wouldn’t want to end up like the adults – whom i saw as being too cynical and too sensible, too rational and too logical. i wanted to FEEL. i wanted to base my decisions on what i FEEL for. i wanted to follow my heart. to lose the unnecessary ‘better’ options so that i can experience the wonderful world filled with the array of colourful emotions. i’ll take them all! i said. i wanted to always be able to feel the pain so that i can feel ultimate joy too.
well, at least i knew i was a smart kid.
so i asked God, though not knowing who He actually is then, to always let me FEEL. i have never stopped since.
as for empathy… well, i seem to have adopted selective-empathy these days. it’s not that difficult to imagine why, when i am also able to feel the self-pity and pride that reside in the other.
i’m not proud of myself. it’s just the way it is.
i was at work yesterday and wondering where my compassion has gone to when God sneaked a little voice into my head. He said, “What you did to the least of your brothers, you did it to me.” Shucks.
i guess collecting a ticket to heaven with my name engraved on it isn’t such a certainty anymore. i had better buck up on my level of empathy. after all, do not expect me to give up on revelling in complete bliss, joy and the high moments in life. not anyimte soon. not when i can get a taste of heaven from them.
so bring on whatever emotions may rack my being. i’ll take them one by one, chew them up bit by bit and spit them out! i’m holding on to my “birthright” to being an empath. whatever it takes.
welcome to my personal heaven and hell.
a place where you’ll receive compassion, comfort and a companion to cry with. except that half the time, you ARE the compassionate comforter and companion who’s crying away too.
here, emotions will flow freely. there is no absolute state to remain comfortably in.
be prepared to break free of all your restrains. you’ll soar to the skies. touch the stars, take one with you. or not. you’ll visit soon again anyway and you can pluck another one from the sky the next time.
but get ready for the fall too. you won’t be able to claw your way out even if you tried. sometimes, it helps to hold your breath. cos breathing hurts. so stop breathing for a little while then. and suffocate. either way, you’ll be getting smothered so you might as well not feel the pain in your chest.
come ride with me.
