|| Someone once told me that my life came straight out of a Korean drama, and told me to write it. || Writer of all things sublime and mundane in a 21 y/o endeavor of life and love. Aspiring singer. Linguistic enthusiast. Travel dreamer.
I apologize for editing and posting this after 4 months later. There have been way too many factors on my end that has caused me to lag on these videos. Overcoming them hasn’t been easy. And a lot of the times I’ve finished dealing with them, I felt really burnt out.
I’m gonna try my best to post more and catch up as well as update on my experiences here. Look out for them! :)
Sometimes, I wonder if I'm settling for less… less in everything.
My feelings are fluctuating as fast as mercury rises in boiling hot water and drops in liquid nitrogen. I've come to accept these thoughts and feelings like any ordinary thought. The early 20's are a half decade spent in doubt while the mid- and late 20's are slowly adjusting to the life they molded for themselves. But of all the doubts that a young adolescent can have, the most reoccurring one has to be: Can I do more or am I settling for less?
Career-wise, I wonder if I chose the right experience. Being abroad thus far has been a roller coaster of emotions. I find myself indifferent on a few occasions, just as how I had felt during my everyday life in California (I consider this as a positive behavior because it seems like I'm slowly growing comfortable). But for the past month in, I've been feeling very depressed. There are times I wake up in the morning with the mood already nestled within me, and whatever I do about my room (be it cleaning up or eating or going through my phone), I still feel very sad. Sometimes it gets so bad that I cry for no reason. Perhaps, this is still part of my homesickness. However, it's quite discouraging to notice that I've felt sad in quite a number of days. There are also occasions where I do feel happy, but they mostly surface when I'm with friends, and rarely times when I go to work.
Education-wise, I wonder if I'll be okay handling the result for my decision for taking a year off education. To be honest, at times I hate myself for going about life with different majors. Perhaps if I had gone straight to Cypress College, I'd probably be having my bachelor's like my other classmates. Instead, I went to nursing school and got kicked out. Then I decided to disappear for 6 months for an internship in a foreign country, and unanimously ended up skipping 2 semesters of college… Sometimes, I wonder if I've settled for less in my major because I know I could've handled nursing well; got the brains for it and probably the tenacity as well if I had spent time polishing how I could have worked in clinical rotations. Sometimes I wonder if I'm running away. I wonder this because writing used to make me smile. I used to feel ecstatic about writing fictional stories. My routine would be getting addicted to posting stories on fanfiction. But I don't even do that anymore… I've stopped writing in my diary for nearly 3 years now. I've found myself keeping more to myself more than I can express myself in words.
I'm not happy anymore and I don't know why.
Relationship-wise, I wonder if I've found the one I can have a future with or if I'm settling for less. It's not that I'm not enjoying the relationship anymore, but more like the excitement has died down over time. The beginning of the relationship is always fun because there is excitement and so much energy into wanting to be with your partner at all times--or at least that's how it felt for me. But we've gotten comfortable with each other that thoughts of "lacking" come into mind at times. Being my first time in such a long term relationship, I freaked out thinking that there was something wrong. Actually, it's very normal and common according to the vast majority. Coming into terms, the best way I can describe it as the stage where you're just acting like best friends again. The love may be absent at times, but it's nice that you won't get bored being around your best friend on many occasions.
Still… perhaps adulthood is somewhat pressuring me to think seriously about my future; therefore I must doubt. I must always expect that I can do better; that I can be happier; that I can be more successful.
Even so, I can't act upon my actions with no legitimate basis. Curiosity, to me, isn't enough. Why? Because curiosity is fleeting. Sometimes you get so caught up in your curiosity that you may get yourself in an unwanted situation. After all, "curiosity kills the cat." Therefore, I have to be driven by something intense. Be it emotions with passion or regret, or a goal that will propel me forward.
The following day, I began my first day at work as the guest native speaker. My host walked from work to my apartment to pick me up and back to work again. He did this for two days just to make sure that I knew my way to work and back. At the site, I learned quickly that I only lectured for either the first 30 minutes of class or the last 30 seconds.
Also, I'd like to add that I work in Holmesglen Language Center. Basically, a language school teaming up with UMT and allowing their students to attend the facility's classes. Because the university is a Muslim school, I had to adhere to the dress code to cover up. However, when I had spoken to Bruce, he told me that there wasn't really a dress code. I could dress the way I wanted, but of course nothing too crazy with the American fashion (short shorts, short skirts, cleavage, etc.). My host believes that the way I dress is in itself a cultural exchange opportunity to see how a young woman like me (basically around the same age as my students) expresses herself in her fashion. To begin with, the fact that my hair is exposed already gets me a lot of attention here.
I know this can be a touchy subject, but I would like to address it mainly to disburse the assumption that it is true. So read this paragraph at your disclosure. I am aware that there is some concern here regarding the predominant Muslim religion, and I want to make it clear that in no way am I being harassed because of my religion. Rather, the students don't ask about it. In addition, my colleagues and friends don't mistreat me any different for having a Christian faith. They don't try to pressure me to convert. They're open about sharing their faith, which I can respect. In work, my colleagues all pray in the teacher's room (where I'm usually in) or in another empty teacher's lounge. They carry on with their regimen, and out of respect, I usually lower down the volume from whatever video I am watching. Back then, I would excuse myself from the room just to give them time to pray in peace, but they told me that I didn't need to leave the room. To me, this is just normal routine. In terms of Christanity in Indonesia, I would say that I have befriended a couple Christians, and they told me that their lives are peaceful. They acknowledge that in some places, some Christians do get persecuted, but it's often extremely rare. Regarding where I am, I'm perfectly safe to practice my Christian faith.
Now back on topic…
With my introductions to the classes, there were always two reactions: students were either super shy when I spoke to them or they giggled/got excited being around me. Either way, they were still shy. There are the few honorable mentions that actually had the guts to speak up to me in their broken English. Regardless, I was happy with their efforts.
Later that afternoon, I received a text from Calvin asking me to accompany him and his mother for dinner in Jakarta at 6 pm. My dilemma had been regarding my work schedule, seeing that I would finish work at 6 pm. I asked my host if I was allowed to leave early, and he insisted that I just go home for the day to get ready for the dinner. I was escorted by my host on the walk home and he gave me that walk back to work and another half hour to finish freshing up.
Because this was quite a big deal for me, and I was trying my best to impress my boyfriend's mother, I tried my best to look presentable. It was then that my host picked me up and then drove me to Calvin's house. We made it to his place just around 6 pm.
Unfortunately his mother couldn't tag along with us due to her sick grandchildren who insisted to stay home, and so Calvin and I went ahead for dinner at Pondok Indah Mall, aka Calvin's second home.
We had dinner at what appears like a fancy restaurant. It turns out that I'm quite found of this swirly looking white cracker that you usually eat with sweet soy sauce. Dinner always included chicken in my menu. Calvin made me try a little bit of the spicy peanut sauce, and he got a kick at the sight of me reacting from just one droplet.
After dinner, we went to another arcade where I watched Calvin play a crane game and win me a small duck key chain followed by another photobooth picture.
We got to play on this piano booth where "Tong Hua" got my attention. It turns out that the game was super difficult to play, most especially with it being played at random. In reality, I know how to play the song on the piano, and the keys just ended up throwing me off and I gave up in the end. There was also this one key that was broken that drove me insane with missing the notes that played on that part. Calvin did help me try to win as much points as possible, but even a good piano player like him was struggling.
The last video game we played was Danz Base, his all-time favorite. I got one round's worth of videos and got a kick from watching them. It so happened that this game play ended up being Calvin's first time to get an S-rank result--make it 2 actually. I managed to keep up with A-ranks at the hardest levels.
The night ended with us at the food court in PIM. I was so happy when I spotted Kyo-Chon and of course, I got myself 6 pieces of my favorite garlic chicken.
My first full week in Indonesia had been pretty okay. The shock was very late, actually. I didn't feel it until maybe the following week and a half in. However for my first week, all I felt was excitement. I was excited being in a new country, excited to see my boyfriend every day, and excited to meet one of my long distance best friend, Cloudia.
The first week was an adventure. Just from the first day, Calvin and I had a date at Living World to try one of his favorite restaurants, BMC. He showed me the bill and I was amazed that we paid roughly around 75.000 rupiah ($5) for both of our meals and drinks included.
After a brief walk out of the mall, we went to Mall @ Alam Sutera where Calvin showed me his favorite arcade. To me, it reminded me of Story Bookland in the Philippines' SM mall. It's an arcade combined with an amusement park. There was one roller coaster ride, a small train ride route, bumper cars, and a carousal. Everything else were a mixture of those usual amusement park booths to win stuff animals lined against the walls and arcade machines. Calvin and I got our first picture booth picture here.
Afterwards, Calvin showed off his moves in basketball, almost beating the top score if he had another 6 points in. We played with a couple more machines, such as the punch bag and one of those strength measure machine where you use a mallet and whack on a post. I recall that he got a score of 11 out of 20. Not too shabby. I think I got only 8. We ended the day after dancing on the arcade machines:Danz Base (basically "Dance Central"), DDR, and the DDR copycat (except the arrows are pointed to like top right, top left, center, bottom right, bottom left).
After the arcade, we went up to try a dessert together. It was like halo-halo except there's no ube, but it had Jack fruit and avocado. Calvin liked it, except for the avocado bits. I finished all of that and fed him the others. It actually turns out that I don't like Jack Fruit, and so, Calvin and I ended up balancing out our dislikes and likes in that chilled meal.
Our next trip on the list was IKEA. I managed to get most of the utensils from hangers to kitchen utensils and some room decorations to make my room feel more home-like.
That night, I went out for dinner with Dyra and Calvin at this food stand outdoors. I was so jet lagged I passed out on the ride to there and on the ride back to my apartment.
And that was the chaos that was known my first day in Indonesia.
Calvin's and my main concern was how we would be able to keep in contact with each other once I arrive in Indonesia. Unfortunately there was no internet available at the airport to announce my arrival to Calvin, nor reach out to my hosts. It was a gamble, honestly. I arrived on time, but I was already on the move to the nearest bathroom. After relieving myself and giving up the idea to look presentable to my hosts and boyfriend with my greasy hair and face, I left the bathroom and searched for the baggage claims. I was grateful that the workers understood my distress and directed me to the places I needed to be.
It took about an hour for my baggages to spill out of the converter belt. I was unlucky to have drawn one broken cart and another that slanted off sideways. But in the end, I decided to tough it out. In addition to my misfortune, I wore wedges that lacked resistance when I pushed on the cart, and so I was slipping and sliding here and there. But I made it to my final security scan before I entered the arrival gate. I found my host almost immediately and apologized to him immediately for my late arrival. I was grateful he waited an hour for me to show up instead of leaving me to fend for myself. He was very understanding and very kind. He rubbed me off like a doting granddaughter. And in the times I spent with him, I came to view him as an extended family, like one of those distant but related family members that you never knew (ya feel me, Filipino fams?). But he is just a genuine elderly man, and I respect him very much.
His assistant was a couple years older than me. I was surprised when she revealed her age. I wondered to myself if I would be successful when I got to her age. She appeared very independent and responsible, and I couldn't help but admire her. Fortunately, we became good friends.
It took us another hour to arrive at my apartment with all the hectic driving and congestions on the streets. The scenery from my window wasn't as foreign as I expected it to be. A lot of the houses and the plants reminded me of what I saw in the Philippines, decreasing the effects of culture shock from a first impression. The comparison helped me so much from having a pretty bad anxiety episode on my first day. The traffic was also similar to the Philippines with cars creating their own lines (even though they had lines to separate cars into their own lanes). The one thing that made me super anxious was how close the cars were against each other. I started to freak out, but my hosts comforted me by saying that Indonesian people are very careful drivers. He was right… until a van next door to us tipped over a crossing motorcyclist. Luckily, the motorcyclist wasn't driving, but just ushering his motorcycle that was filled with dead chicken. It was like seeing a cow being tipped over. No one was hurt luckily, and I was surprised by their nonchalant reaction. The motorcyclist and the driver apologized with a wave of their hands. And that was my first nervous breakdown experiencing traffic and a very minor accident.
Now arriving at the apartment, I made sure to keep my eyes peeled for Calvin. But here's the funny story: Calvin and I missed each other upon my arrival at the apartment. I recall seeing a man texting on his phone while he sat across from the elevator, but I never gave him a second glance because I was beyond jet lagged after a +21 hour flight. I just wanted the day to get into my apartment and rest, but also have it spent with Calvin in private.
I was talking pretty loudly, telling my story to my hosts that I was vlogging my experience here and there to show the life I would take on in Indonesia for the next 6 months. I was later surprised that Calvin, the guy who was sitting on the bench across from the elevator, hadn’t look up nor recognized my voice.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to record the entrance into the building (where Calvin would have been spotted), but only after I arrived on my floor did I start recording. When arriving at my apartment, I couldn't bear to make Calvin wait any longer. Calvin had arrived at my apartment at 8 am. My arrival at the airport was 8:15 am. Meeting my hosts was 9:15 am. And our arrival at my apartment was 10:15 am. The poor guy waited 2 hours for me, and I couldn't wait for my hosts to leave… and so I confessed that my best friend was waiting impatiently for me for the past 2 hours. I had borrowed my host's phone to call his whatsapp. It was then he informed me that he was waiting across from the elevators. Ridiculous. He told me he came up to my room 20 minutes earlier before our arrival. He told me he was surprised that we were in my room, claiming that he didn't see us. I told him I couldn't believe that he missed us. We literally just walked in front of him. But I called him up to see us.
My heart raced. My palms ran cold. And my ears became extremely sensitive as I waited for Calvin's arrival. While we were waiting for him, we discussed the plan regarding communication. We decided that for today, we would only run to Tangcity to purchase a SIM card for the phone Calvin would provide for me and internet.
I heard his footsteps echoing from the hallway getting closer and closer and when I saw him at the door, I couldn't breathe. After meeting his eyes for the first time in person, I was scared my face would give it away to my two hosts. I didn't want them to know about our relationship at the time, and being around Calvin for the first time made it really stressful for me. I mean… I looked like shit after that long flight. I introduced him briefly to my two hosts, followed by receiving his present from Singapore from months ago. For the rest of the conversation and sharing our plan to Calvin, I avoided looking in his direction.
And then, the four of us were off to Tangcity. Calvin and I situated ourselves in the backseat, and he teasing me for needing to wear seatbelts. In Indonesia, the back seat passengers don't wear seatbelts at all (there were cars that didn't even have seatbelts installed in the back). But safe to say, there hasn't been any crazy or life threatening accidents yet (knock on wood). But throughout that car ride, Calvin was pretty much in my bubble with him poking and squeezing my face. I imagine that this was his way of letting reality sink in that his LDR girlfriend is now sitting a foot away from him.
My host dropped Calvin and I with my host's assistant in Tangcity to get three errands out of the way:
Money exchange
Sim card
Internet
Of course throughout the trip he teased my height, and attempted to hold my hand. Feeling extremely conscious, I told him not to grab my hand. However, that invited him to mess around with me more… although I didn't really mind it. Right off the bat, I love our chemistry with each other. I loved that we were very playful.
After completing our first task, my host took us to his work to grab a universal plug outlet. Thank goodness for that. My American technology survived for the next 3 weeks.
When all tasks have been met, my two hosts dropped Calvin and I back to my apartment where he proceeded to help me unpack and also retrieve my overdue presents.
I cannot express how long I have waited for the day for us to meet. It didn't turn out the way that we both hoped, but it was still magical nonetheless. Our love story was definitely worth the wait, but I'll save that story for my next relationship post.
The final week left in California had been full of mixed feelings. Most had been bitter sweet, others I put on a strong front. Saying goodbye to my best friends were difficult. I cried often, imagining my 6 months without them being a part of it. They are my rock and foundation through thick and thin. They were there from stupid events and low moments in life to the unforgettable and happiest days of my life. I know that six months isn't too bad, considering that each of us are caught up with our own lives to spend every day together, but it felt like it would be an eternity before I saw them again. You think it's exaggeration, but you know those moments where it feels like the dreadful moments seem to last forever? Yeah. It feels like that. I'm not literally exaggerating, but figuratively exaggerating.
And it was true.
The number one person I would miss the most really had to be Jack. I didn't realize how much I depended on him until it was our final night together sharing my room. His eyes were large, confused as to why I was behaving in such a way, but despite strongly disliking the idea to be held, Jack behaved himself while I cried and smothered him against my chest.
I thought of all the days I would wake up without seeing my little bunny bouncing about the room or jumping on my bed when I was working or laying on my bed. I thought about the times where I wouldn't feel him running on my bed sheets, digging himself a handful of the blanket, or feeling his weight on my chest when he wanted me to wake up and feed him. I thought of how silent my room would be without hearing him scuffle about… As much as he was a trouble maker, his rambunctious actions gave me a sense of comfort. I could never sleep at night in silence because my thoughts were loud. I needed noise to lull me to sleep. Music, at the time, just brought me heartache, so I would watch Pewdiepie's videos from my laptop to bring me to sleep. Then eventually, it was just the sound of Jack moving around my room.
I thought of the times I would be sitting down on a chair, and I wouldn't feel Jack's fur rubbing against my leg because he would always sprawl out underneath my chair. I would miss looking over my shoulder and see Jack twitching in his sleep while he was in Cloud 9. I would miss being able to pet him and teach him his "round round" and giving him treats…
Even as I type this… or at any time I recall Jack whenever I am alone… I still cry.
When it was time for me to say goodbye to Jack, I sobbed my eyes out again. I hugged my baby and told him to behave while I would be gone for the next 6 months. I told him to not give my parents a hard time and to give them the same love and affection he gave me when I was at my weakest. I hope he gave my parents strength when their two daughters are living hours away. I know my parents are still sad time to time knowing that their home is empty.
The day of my departure was difficult. The moment I got in the car with my family along with my cousin, Lek, it suddenly felt surreal to me that I was officially leaving California for the next 6 months. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I started to cry.
At the airport, I only had twenty minutes to spend time with my family after getting my lugages checked in. It felt like time moved really fast, and I wanted to prolong my stay just a little longer. But when it was time for me to go, I couldn't stop the waterworks.
I knew I had severe separation anxiety since 6th grade. The moment I sat inside the bus, before our departure to 6th grade camp, I was already crying. The bus wasn't even turned on. But looking out the window and seeing my parents wave at me was enough to make me feel really sad. The hugs were my cue to cry. Because I knew that it would be hard for me to live alone in a foreign country without my parents. I knew that it would be hard to come home to a house that would be empty. I already knew that I wouldn't be able okay on my arrival or the following days after.
When I rode the escalator, I turned around and saw the four of them waving at me. I cried even harder. Looking at them, it broke my heart, and I was scared that I might change my mind at the last second. I tried to control my emotions, but it was difficult. The moment my dad called me, the waterworks came back. During the call, he passed the phone to everyone to wish me their last farewells before they left the airport. After that, I was really on my own.
There was a gentleman who stood behind me in line who spoke to me throughout our wait until we entered security. He asked me so many questions regarding residence and occupation. He meant no harm, and expressed that the reason why he asked me so many questions is because he knew I was in distress. He knew I was Filipino and expressed his sympathy, explaining that he worked in hospitals and knew that Filipino families have a tendency to be very protective of their children, especially for their daughters. He asked if I was traveling alone for my first time and I nodded. I told him that I was heading to Indonesia for a 6 month internship as a teacher. He expressed his admiration and support for my career. Unfortunately, I don't remember his name… all I can recall is that he was flying to Turkey to be reunited with his family. However, I will never forget his kindness. I was happy when I got to see him one last time at the waiting area before the buses separated us to our designated planes. We wished each other for the best.
In the waiting area, I felt so feeble. I didn't know what I was doing. I expressed gratitude when one Indian woman had reached out to me when I expressed my anxiety for my flight. She told me she would run back to me to check that I knew when to depart. As embarrassing as it was for me, I was really surprised by the amount of kindness I was bestowed with throughout my flight. Everyone was kind and patient to me when I was a mess and internally panicking every other minute.
My first flight took me to South Korea. It was an 11 hour straight flight. I was lucky that I got myself a window seat, and that the whole 3 rows were for myself. However, I didn't know if it was rude of me to sprawl out my legs across those three seats, so I just opted for hogging 2 seats and 3 pillows. Unfortunately, the entire flight, I wasn't able to catch a wink of sleep. I was suffering from lower back pain and constant bathroom trips (it's my fault for chugging an 18 oz of Happy Tea before my flight). Even with movies playing to lull me to sleep, it wasn't enough. So I suffered for the longest trip.
I remember panicking when I saw that we were landing in South Korea at first, because it was never listed on my ticket that we would make a stop first. I arrived in Korea at 10 pm (their time). I had to wait an hour for the crew to switch and clean the cabins before we continued to the next destination: Singapore (I made sure to vlog the airports I've visited for my curious friends).
The fly to Singapore was 4 to 5 hours long. Luckily, I was able to get sleep this time around, and had unfortunately lost my other free spots to a couple.
Arriving in Changi airport, I tried to record as much as I could about the world's best airport. However, I got lost. In addition, I sacrificed some time to do a live video both on instagram and on facebook to update my loved ones on my flight. I was lucky that Changi offered free wifi service for 3 hours. Luckily that was enough for my one hour wait there. To be honest, Changi airport is pretty cool and lives up to its reputation on the facebook video my sister had shared with me. Unfortunately, many shops were closed when I had done my quick tour, and the slide was nowhere in sight. On the bright side, I love the free massage chairs. They felt nice despite feeling really disgusting throughout my humid adventure.
I was five to ten minutes late to arrive on the given time to meet in the waiting room, but luckily when I had arrived, no one was boarding yet. I spent the remaining time talking with my dad over messenger.
My flight to Indonesia lasted for almost 2 hours. The plane I road reminded me of the planes from 2005. They had the old fashion handheld remotes from the side armrests. I was surprised that they still had these old planes. But hey, I guess if it's to be more economic, then good for them. Although I much preferred the touch screens and touch pads from my first plane.
I felt butterflies when the plane hovered over Indonesia. The main reason for these butterflies was because my boyfriend was already anxiously waiting for me at my apartment like we had planned. At the same time, I was anxious… anxious about meeting my hosts. In the end, I had nothing to worry about. I was blessed with two wonderful hosts who I became very close to.
Yo! It's been a while, Tumblr. It's 6:42 pm and I'm currently sipping my green tea frap in J.Co. It's post work hours and I felt like doing something different from my usual routine.
I apologize for not being active since the very beginning. There were too many things I had to settle with upon my arrival and adjusting from one day to the next. But all in all... it wasn’t easy.
I would like to start from the very beginning. But by doing so, I will be dividing this post into several parts. How many--I don’t know yet. There’s too many things to re-tell. But if you can bear with me, I’d appreciate it greatly.
So let’s begin... PART 1:
The plan for my internship to Indonesia wasn’t easy from the beginning to the end. Not many knew but I have been wrestling with on and off depression. Sometimes it was severe, other times it was bearable. There were many factors to this:
the pressure of my education
the lack of expectations met as the eldest daughter
the result of my future
the lack of support from loved ones
Since 2015, disappointment and depression have been a common visitor. Although I can carry myself with a smile and express vigor for a new goal in my life, but at the back of my mind I have always been anxious.
Positively, I’ve already accepted that failure was part of the adulthood growth experience, and that it paved a new path for my future. Negatively, another failure meant I was hopeless, and time would be taken away from me again through grieving in isolation.
My last 2 semesters in college were my most difficult challenges in education. It wasn’t because the classes were hard, it was because the effort to put in the work just grew exhausting. I noticed that I stopped trying to keep up with the classes and searched for shortcuts despite them being easy classes if I had chosen to pay attention. Except, my thoughts were always wandering elsewhere. There were weeks I would relapse into depression and I would stay in bed and sleep the day away. Had it not been for my grandmother, I probably would have suffered from malnourishment as well.
I was desperate to find a reason to keep moving forward in life. And that’s when I found Jack.
I met Jack in Rabbit Rescue on December 2016. He was the only rabbit who had his own little cage. The reason he caught my eyes was mainly because his fur reminded me of my late rabbit, Pebbles. He was put in his own cage, isolated from the rabbits. A worker had told me that he doesn’t get along with other rabbits, but he had been such a curious and loving rabbit when I stepped inside his play pen. I fell in love immediately, and within a week, I adopted him in secret with the money I earned from my work.
My parents found out on the day I had gotten him. They were furious with my rash decisions, but over time they came to accept him as part of the family. My dad was the first to melt when he saw Jack and interacted with him. My mom grew to care for him as well. It was his behaved nature that surprised them such as his potty-training and recognizing when to return to my room.
Jack saved me by being the reason why I was able to get out of bed. He would wake me up by jumping on my bed, sometimes climbing up on my chest and sniffing my face to get me to wake up. Other times, he would chew out the pee pad in his litter box, causing the crackling noise to stir me from sleep. I knew immediately that Jack was a very clever rabbit. I knew this was his way of getting me out of bed to feed him food. And that’s how he saved me: by getting me out of bed.
My behavior changed over time as well. I became more responsible around him. I kept up my cleaning regimen, and I became more adamant staying home rather than splurging my money with friends due to being bored at home. I learned how to balance my priority with him and also with my internship fund.
But even so, depression was still present. My final semester, was the hardest to overcome. The pressures in my life felt like sand drowning my sight, drowning my breath. My mind was a deafening static, bombarding me with many self-depreciating thoughts. I couldn’t stop seeing myself as a failure in so many things. I kept thinking I wasn’t good enough of a daughter. I couldn’t help my family. My decisions in life were selfish and only causing so much pain to everyone at the cost of my happiness. I grew guilty. And at some point, I wanted everything to end.
April had been my breaking point. Reaching out for help made me feel like I was a burden to those who wanted to be there for me. Because there was nothing they could do to help me but listen to me rant. I was searching for a direction when I felt all odds were against me. Most especially when my parents expressed their disappointment in my actions to take up Internship Indonesia. I was torn between following my aspiration or pleasing my parents. I was selfish in the end, and I was looking for ways to justify it. But I couldn’t. I was just selfish.
It was back to back fighting with my parents about what I wanted to do with my future, and them vehemently telling me that what I was doing was nonsensical. They screamed that I was being selfish and foolish. They said I was making a grave mistake. That this internship can wait until I finish my degree.
But I couldn’t wait. I was already giving up on my education, and I needed something to motivate me again. I needed a direction in my career to know that what I chose for myself is something that would make me satisfied in my life. But what I hated was the fact that I didn’t know. I don’t know anything unless I give it a try. And that was the risk I took.
I felt like a disappointment since then. Depression engulfed me despite making my first steps out of bed. After feeding Jack, I went back to bed. Then thoughts began to plague me. My life didn’t feel like my own. I started to think that I wasn’t living anymore. It wasn’t long before I started thinking of suicidal thoughts.
But I knew deep down, suicide was never an option. As a reminder of what could have been a possible choice, I took a bottle of Acetaminophen pills and strung it with a silver cord to my ceiling fan. Everyday, I would wake up with that sight greeting me. I found it funny because the bottle says “pain relief” as if hanging from the roof was some sort of pain reliever. But dying that way is extremely painful, especially if one were to survive it.
As morbid as it was, it was a reminder of what could have been me if I followed through with my choice: my time would have stopped forever.
I started to think about all the times I had suffered growing up to be the person I came to be. I should have killed myself back in 2015 when I had been dropped out of nursing school. It was the end of the world for me back then. But I waited it out and somehow I made it to 2017. I started to think of that time and wondered if I had ended my life back then, only regrets would follow me into the afterlife.
If there is anything that drives me nuts, they are the “what if’s...” That bottle always asked me: “What if, Hannah...?”
What if, you actually live to achieve your dreams if you held on longer?
What if your parents came around to support you in the end?
What if your future ended up successful?
What if this is truly what you need to do to figure out your life?
I left that bottle dangling from my ceiling all the way until I finally graduated on May 2017.
It was the push I needed to stand my ground. I knew I was being selfish with my choices, but I realized that I had to be selfish. My adulthood experience is mine to learn from, not my parents nor friends. I have to disappoint my loved ones sometimes to figure out my life. I needed to put myself first, because if I listened to my parents or pleased everyone forever, I would never be able to stand a chance against the world...
1 month of vlogging of what seems to be entertaining moments of my life before my 6-month internship! :) I'm so blessed to have made a lot of fun memories! I...
For once, I didn’t expect or react disappointingly to the other person for not saying endearing and sincere things as I have expressed my love and gratitude to him.
I realized that we can be pretty selfish people for expecting things to be given back equally or more. It’s that mind set about “what about me?” We end up making expectations because of it, and consequentially encouraging resentment and bitterness rather than living up to the endearing words we shared with them.
But when I fixed my focus on my feelings when I wrote these endearing things to him, I saw it as enough. I felt grateful that I can even feel something like this to begin with. I feel satisfied with just being able to make him feel loved and happy, and also feel that same amount of happiness and love for myself for being able to be present and be able to experience this moment of sincerity.
The count down until we finally meet is 9 days from now! Calvin and I have been in an LDR for almost 18 months now, and within a week, I'll be with him. We h...
The count down until we finally meet is 9 days from now!
Calvin and I have been in an LDR for almost 18 months now, and within a week, I'll be with him. We have come a long way to get where we're at today. Long distance proved to be extremely difficult and challenging, but the love that we share is far greater than the distance that keeps us apart.
Today while I was eating lunch, a poor man was walking around asking for change. In one row, I was exposed to 3 types of women: To my left, a young mother gave change. A middle age woman, in front of me, expressed her sympathy but did nothing. To my right, an elderly woman shook her head and muttered "drug addict." What these women have differing from one another was their generation's influence on their perspective of poverty. It makes me wonder which of us we fall in.
Similar to all other types of relationships, people choose what to display for the public and the ones to keep behind closed doors. LDR’s are no different.
The struggles I had to endure had revolved mainly around myself and my perception of what I had expected to what was the reality.
I suggest that you get comfy and have yourself some snacks because this will be a long post.
1. My expectations were based off what the media has shown me of what they had perceived love to be.
How can you express your affections to someone when you’re in an LDR? It’s easy to display through physical intimacies such as holding hands, hugging, or a kiss. But with physical intimacies ruled out, how else do you show it?
They were in the little things.
-The time he made for me over playing video games or to sleep early.
-It was the first text or snapchat message in the morning on my end.
-The choice to wait out before sending that text.
-It was in his effort to serenade me.
But I had taken all of this for granted.
These little things were buried under what I had wanted:
-A hand written letter or flowers sent to me (I wanted something tangible).
-A formal Skype date.
-To sacrifice a sleep or 2 to be there for me.
-To be bragged about to the whole world.
-To entrust his secrets to me.
But because what I wanted was not being met, I constantly felt unsatisfied. I always complained about how unhappy I was to my friends about his behavior. I tried to understand him and his decisions, but I couldn’t accept them. I couldn’t understand the way he showed his affections towards me, and this was how our relationship began to unravel.
2. I had a crooked perception of love.
I have little to no experience in love. In addition to media, the negative side had always been emphasized:
-I needed to protect myself by over thinking and expecting the worst whether it be by cheating or simply breaking up.
-I wasn’t allowed to be blinded by my feelings because I would make stupid decisions that I would be judged for.
I never forgot every painful memory that ended all my previous relationships.
One taught me not to believe in words because he won me through them but his actions said otherwise.
The next one taught me not to get my hopes up just because he was interested in me; and he ended up leading me on.
Someone taught me how to distrust because he told a close friend of mine that he I was vain for sharing all my problems to him.
Another taught me to stay skeptical of “perfect” guys because they were probably hiding something. And he did--he was a two timer.
Looking back, I have a lot of respect for my younger self for being able to brave through the pain. The person I am today is exhausted. I don’t want to repeat it.
Forgive but never forget. I thought the best way to save myself was to end things before I was attached to him. But even that was a self-fulfilling prophecy in itself. I sabotaged my own chances...
And this mind set had greatly affected my relationship with my partner.
3. I wanted to be perfect for him.
I was obsessed to be perfect. But how can I be perfect when I had little to no experience?I took this approach to how I play my otome games--by the book.
In otome games, my safety net was the walk-through lists. I wanted the perfect endings and I achieved them by following these posts. Similarly, I wanted to deal with my relationship perfectly and my obsession led me to Google.
I took these advises a little too seriously, then again, I was nit-picky. I wanted to avoid pissing off my boyfriend (because at the time, he was triggered by a number of things going on in his life). I didn’t want to add on to his growing list of problems and stress, but that had put me in a place to walk on constant egg shells. In the end, it had back fired.
Because I had chose to avoid talking about “sensitive topics,” he took it as if I didn’t care about his well being or what he was going through. I perceived these “sensitive topics” as the no-entry-zone, because there had been one instance when he responded angrily with me for recalling a “sensitive topic.” His reaction left me speechless, and I thought that it was better not to address any of them from that point.
I felt so limited about portraying myself to be that “perfect girlfriend” that I felt under constant surveillance to watch what I said or did in order to avoid upsetting him. I ended up growing more unsatisfied with the relationship.
4. I had severe anxiety.
My perfectionist personality stems from my anxiety.
I don’t know when the thoughts formed, but I had a list of expectations that needed to be met. And when they weren’t, I would end up blaming myself for my lack of competence.
Into our fourth month of being together, I had relapsed into depression. Not only was I unhappy with the relationship, but also in my own life. I felt like I would never amount to anything in life, nor make my parents proud of me for anything I would do unless I gave up my “silly dreams” and continued to study nursing.
As the oldest child, I felt like I had a responsibility to help my parents financially by taking care of myself and my sister to lighten their load. But even then, I couldn’t do that. I didn’t have a job. And even if I cried my feelings to my sister, I felt like I was a disappointment as an older sister.
I couldn’t do anything to please anyone, let alone myself. The thought ate me inside out. I’ve never felt so hopeless in my life.
But even then, I still made the Dean’s list regardless of how many days I had skipped school. If there’s anything redeeming factors about my mental health, I guess I can say that it wouldn’t let me give up on my education.
5. What the hell was “communication”?
"Communication is key.” When I heard that, I automatically took that as one of the biggest emphasis in my relationship with my boyfriend. It is an important component to maintain a healthy communication. But when applied unfairly, it can lead lead to be toxic.
I believe it’s important to share our problems with each other, and when I sensed that there was a problem going on in his end, I would press him to share it with me. He would respond coldly or angrily, but would end up sharing it just for my sake.
I would get mad at him for his reaction because I kept emphasizing how important it was to establish a good communication between us, but what I didn’t know was how it had hurt him to have his privacy taken away.
I lacked respecting his space, causing us to have a bigger strain in our relationship. He was more recluse and despondent with his problems around me, let alone ask for my opinions.
Because of this, I felt unappreciated for my efforts. It left me feeling bitter.
6. Dealing with loneliness.
Specifically in an LDR, having to deal with my problems posed to be a difficult challenge. Whenever I had faced difficult obstacles, I always wanted him to be there for me... but he couldn’t.
We were on a 14-15 hour time difference. He was asleep while I was in school, and vice versa. When I had an argument with a friend during lunch time or an argument with my parents towards the night, he wasn’t there...
To deal with things alone was hard... To face my problems by myself was hard... To not have someone be there for you at that moment was hard...
I always cried about it at night. I always contemplated if this was a good idea or not... Or if I could handle it for that matter.
I had to learn how to detach myself and my emotions from these situations. Because I’m so highly emotional, I have a tendency to act upon how I feel in the moment rather than take a step back and organize my emotions from my logical thoughts. That was one of the biggest struggles I had to fix regarding myself.
But even though all 6 listed posed to be all negative traits, they also happened to be a blessing in disguise.
I was able to debunk the media’s perception of love and reflect on what I truly wanted out of this relationship. By taking away all the materialistic perception and the cliche idea that “all guys” will brag about their relationship out of the equation, I realized that he does satisfy me in the things that I want in a relationship: a companion who will listen and do his best to understand, and cherish me.
My crooked perception on love is just there as a lesson to look back on. Because my self-esteem was so low, I had ended up portraying these negative aspects on my boyfriend because I was afraid to get hurt. He had helped me to get over this by guiding me to face my fears head on, and decide my future for myself. Because of that, I’m no longer chained by these insecurities for repeating. Now, I just accept if it happens, then it happens, and just shrug it off.
Being perfect made me realize something about my relationship: There was no such thing as being a perfect partner nor a perfect relationship. Ever since this attempt, I realized that if my boyfriend will love me for me, then I hope he can still love the fierce and strong willed person in me. I intend to be the real me, and if he’ll have me for it or not will be up to him.
My anxiety has decreased over time, but it’s still a flitting thought. Although they’re not as impacting as the beginning, I still accept these thoughts as small warnings, and leave it at that.
I learned the perfect way of “communicating” through observing my parents. Because my dad also doesn’t share a lot of his problems with my mom (to prevent her from stressing out), I realized that my boyfriend probably has similar reasons as to my dad does with my mom. Also, I learned from my mother that because she trusts my dad, she knows that if he’ll share his problems with her, then he’ll tell her. And if I feel the same way about my partner then, there’s no need to push it.
As much as it is adorable to watch couples rely on each other and compromise decisions, it is unhealthy when one partner constantly seeks out their partner’s approval. At that point, they are living a life of co-dependency. Regarding my situation, it still gets difficult from time to time. But after giving myself a couple hours to let my emotions sit, I finally realize that I’m able to make my decisions without my partner’s consent.
gummygunk
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
ellievsbear