Reboot In Progress

[startingoverat38]

How does one mend the past?

18 months ago, I made a decision that changed two lives. I broke up with my partner of 12 years. Since then, he hasn’t made contact with me, and practically avoided all my usual hangouts. I say avoided because in a city as small as Singapore, it’s hard not to bump into anyone over that length of time.

But maybe he’s moved on with a new love. Someone who can treat him infinitely better than I ever could. And I would be so happy for him if that were the case.

His birthday was 6 weeks ago. I sent him a What’s App greeting (because a voice call might mean str8 up rejection). Replies were cold, but cordial. But I reached out asking for a dinner hoping to mend the hurt. I am still waiting for an answer and frankly, might be waiting for the rest of my life.

My friend, T, tells me that I broke his heart. So callously calling it off over the phone, choosing work over love. I haven’t had the time to think about my actions but it’s slowly sinking in now.

I know it’s really selfish of me. Not everyone moves on, nor should they. Sometimes, staying in the past helps one to shape the future. Personally, I feel stuck in the past myself. Always looking back when I should look forward. Even when I am with new potentials, I can’t help but reference glory days of yesteryear. Not only do I feel old, I make myself sound old. So these days, I make a conscious effort to “de-age”; to be optimistic, future-forward.

But as I head back into the future, my heart can’t help but weep silently for the past. I miss my best friend. And without doubt, the greatest boyfriend I will ever have. I wait patiently for his return in the hopes that it won’t be too long now. That we can share a cuppa and laugh like we used to. #bffsNOTbfs

With the new year shining on us, I see gleaming new chances. Whether it be to mend bridges or to make new ones, it would be terribly nice to walk across one. Any one.

[startingoverat38]

How does one survive a blackhole?

You know the type. They suck you in over and over again without remorse or guilt. They spin you around their hot centres melting you into a hot mess before leaving you to cool into one grotesque heap. Then... they come back and do it all over again. 

I’ve not met the player in over 13 years. In this strange, savage land, there are only his rules. And I willingly play into it because, after all, the heart wants what the dick wants. 

You can’t ask questions, only sit by the phone mindlessly waiting for that casual message. Nothing is ever revealed and yet, the conversation ebbs and flows. Every time you think you’re getting closer, you somehow miss the mark. All the while, never questioning his beguiling ways... Never will you get commitment but always, you’ll leave feeling sated. A date is precious, and sex a possibility. 

So...

You start running... in the other direction. The further you push yourself, the less you’ll feel the pull of that blackhole. Fact of the matter is, you can never change a blackhole, however hard you try. The deep recesses of that anomaly hides all sorts of darkness you needn’t taint yourself with. As mum rightly tells you, stay in the light. And your heart will also feel that way.

You can’t date the player, only fuck him. You can’t open your heart to one whose own is locked up in a safe guarded by Dementors. And most importantly, you can’t be friends with one after you’ve been sucked in. Only before. See, if the player is your friend, you’d already cast a 24/7 Petronus charm. And if not, well, read above.

Thing is, with the player, the charm is never turned off and it’s probably their self-defence mechanism. I don’t think they do it on purpose, it’s their only way to adapt to anything. Yes, adaptability is their modus operandi. In short, they play to their strengths in every situation, leaving the crowd in awe and hopeless. They deliver each hook, line and sinker effortlessly, pummelling you into helpless submission until... you put a stop to it.

I’m coming out of the blackhole. All right, all right! I’m clawing my way out of one! It’s ugly and I don’t ever want to see myself in this state again. I’ve made myself swear that I won’t look back. That I won’t be friends. That this is a lesson learnt. That I’m ready for the next one and with any hope, I’ll be a better player myself.

[startingoverat38]

How does one age gracefully?

Lately, a lot of talk has centred on ageing. Hard not to when your close group of peeps is around your age or older. And with the festive season upon us, naturally everyone is feeling especially vulnerable.

My suit of armour is no longer as strong as it once was. It’s saggy in places, aching in others, and clogged up in areas. Try as I may, I cannot defy it. I may look all of 33, feel all of 25 but physically, at least my cells, are sounding the alarm bells of 38.

When discussing age, one must inevitably discuss the end. That’s the part we all fear but of late, I’m questioning why. Are we afraid of dying alone? Or worse, having our close friends go before us? Will my friends have funerals, and if they do, will it really be the party they all claim to want to have? And who will attend these so-called parties? 

Our friends, even with the varying age differences, are limited to handful each. And our table grows ever smaller each year with seats reserved only for the very best of them. But that’s exactly the point, for when the end does come, it will not matter, for we will have led a full life surrounded by love. Or perhaps, my generation will usher in a whole new era of micro-funerals. Intimate dinners where a very small group of friends, family and lover(s) toast happily to your ageless life. 

And of course, in time, we will be forgotten. Our lives erased, back to ashes. Therein lies my question, why must we age gracefully in the first place? I’m not going to live forever, so I’m damn well going to live in the moment.

I’m not sure I want to age gracefully. I’m possibly going to die kicking and screaming, clinging on to every bit of life that’s left in me. I want to live passionately, and without regret. I want to seize every moment, even if it means doing something stupid. I want to take life by the horns and ride it into the sunset. And if that means I look awkward to some, so be it. 

[startingoverat38]

How does one re-enter the atmosphere?

When Sandra Bullock was hurtling back into Earth’s atmosphere, the fear she had in her eyes reminded me of only one thing: everyday life.

It’s far too easy to dismiss life as mundane, uneventful when it’s really the opposite. In each and every phase of our lives, we are constantly re-entering atmospheres, though much less spectacular than Sandra’s, it’s equally frightening.

From working to dating to reconnecting with friends you have neglected because you chose your better half, each scene is laden with land mines. Since I started this blog, I can assure you that I’ve stepped on quite a few. I am awkward, stupid even at times. And as I get myself blown into bits, I don’t learn. I remain steadfast in my stupidity, even as each atmospheric collision blows me to bits.

Toughen up. Be brave. Falling down only means you can get up. It gets easier with each fall, you learn to break your fall. You learn to fall gently. You also learn to fall hard when you need to. 

People advise me to play the game. To abide by the invisible rules that govern each atmosphere. Rules passed down from previous generations, so long forgotten why, that it now becomes law. #Isimplywont

So I guess what I’m saying is that, you re-enter the world on your own terms. Never mind if it doesn’t readily accept you. Never mind that you may burn on impact. All that matters is that you did it your way, so you won’t regret any of it.

[startingoverat38]

How does one find the one?

It's the weekend and of course, that just means lots of dinners and introspective round table convos. Sexual convos. I met up with a dear old friend for a much belated 43rd birthday celebration. Let's call her L. L is currently having one of those year long "breaks" where she throws all caution to Tinder, Craigslist personals and whatever comes her way. Her daring reads like a Whisper app, all of it. To her, settling down was for those who want to settle. And as I sat opposite her, drunk in her exploits, I wondered, could I be her? "Yeah, I think he's the one." I spat out my drink in horror. Did she just say what I think she said? "He's 50. But a very young 50, you know? Super fit, successful, dreamy... As you know he's not really part of my young staples, the hot twenty/thirty-somethings..." Yes, I will so dedicate a whole blog post to her ridiculously hunky, lengthy, girthy conquests but today we focus on "the one". #focusmaximus Meeting someone we like is near impossible as it is at our age, let alone finding the one. I rub her hands hoping that her luck would someone rub off on me. Work is where she met him. I am so incredibly happy for her. Work is working out way better than it should. Maybe I should apply there... hmm... I don’t care if the person is 25, 45 or 65, love is love. A connection that spans borders, breaks down boundaries and allows someone to truthfully reveal oneself to another is what I crave. I will never give up hope that I may stumble upon it. And if I don’t ever find it in this lifetime, at least I know others have. And that in itself, is strangely, good enough for me. Congrats L! May this finally be your forever. 

[startingoverat38]

How does one look like a twenty-something?

Consider this. I’ve put my body through 38 years of wild abandonment. What do you think it’s going to look and feel like? Well, 53 according to some weird science thingamajig.

I’ve missed every single health check-up you can imagine because I don’t want to know or hear of any “inconvenience”. But here I am waiting to see my heart specialist for a long overdue date.

When I was told that I had to go for a check-up (healthscare much?), my inner health inspector went ballistic. I started training 4 times a week at the gym, increasing the intensity as I found my strength. I cut carbs from dinner and I even started to drink less. It was as if I was trying to impress the specialist by showing how healthy I could become in under 3 weeks. 

Don’t get me wrong, I still partied like crazy and drank like a fool (more on this next time). But the difference is I kept up my routine, even when I was half drunk with under 5 hours of sleep, I still dragged my sorry ass to the gym. Though regrettably, I did smoke more too.

VOILA! Today, I found out I am 3 kilograms lighter. Yes, it’s totally strange that a machine can give one such validation. But validated I was and damn proud of it too. And I no longer need to angle my face that much for a “goodfie”. The dressing, not so much. It’s what gives the age away. 

Honestly, I do look younger... maybe minus 5 years? So the end game is if you wanna look like your twenties, you need to workout like your teens, and eat like a baby. 

People my age, often give up thinking that they are too old, they have one too many commitments and they don’t want to miss out on life. For the longest time, I was like that too. But now that I’ve found my stride, I will say this: we miss out on everything when we give up on health. 

[startingoverat38]

How does one stay happy together?

So I did a stupid thing and let my first post go up on my FB. And here I was trying so hard to stay anonymous. That worked out. :)

But nothing is without consequence but thankfully this time, a pleasant one. An old friend reached out to me and we got to talking. He just broke up and was strangely sanguine about it. 

So it got me thinking...

All the hours spent looking our best so we can snare our dream, all too often ends up as a nightmare we can’t wait to wake up from. 

Today, love is fleeting, transient. We get swept into its gifts of eternity and undying promises and forget to read the fine print: the magic wears off. I can almost hear the collective cries of romantics everywhere denouncing me. But it’s true, love isn’t what it used to be. #freshperspective

To stay in love, we need to trust in love. But it’s hard to hold on to forever, when forever is everywhere. With the countless apps, websites and shit that get you instant “love”, staying happy together takes only one thing: trust. And we all know first hand how little of that we give.

Personally, I think the one true love only works if you have many true friends. Separately and as a couple. We get so entwined into each other’s world, we lose ourselves. And that’s where the unravelling begins. We get so busy applying strategic manoeuvres to change the person, we lose the very individual we fell in love with in the first place. Friends keep us true. Friends keep us sane. Friends keep us who we are.

At this point in my rebirth, my experiences and memories make it so hard for me to trust. But as I trash about in the dating pool looking for that lifesaver, I can only hope that it’s a trusty one.

[startingoverat38]

How did I even get here?

I think I’m having a mid-life crisis. I never knew what that meant until this very moment. 

I broke up a 12-year relationship because I wanted to focus on my company. And a year and a half later, though my company is successful, the unbridled joy I once had is dwindling. In the midst of that, I also got myself a car and a pad (spent a fortune doing it up too) thinking that I would be in some weird way, fulfilled. But, no, hell no.

When I was younger, I worked hard to be successful. And when I was successful, I worked even harder to be even more successful. The cycle is vicious, endless. And now that I have it all, at least by normal standards, I feel like I have nothing left to move towards. I find myself lost. My compass broken.

These days, I no longer revel in the fact that my day is packed with meetings. I wake up thinking and feeling I have to but not because I want to. I don’t dread going to work yet, but I do long for days that I can be less responsible. 

I’ve been told that I need to go on a holiday because I am burnt out. But in truth, all I want to do is not care. I want to sit at home stare at the walls and just do nothing, for days on end. Holidays mean you have to do something.

I am overwhelmed with this sense of boredom. So I constantly put myself in front of the newest, latest, pretty much anything “-est”. Still it comes up short, hurling me deeper into the abyss.

38 years old and it seems I have to start over.

I need to find my purpose in life again. Or risk falling into the cracks of the sinkhole opening beneath my feet. But I don’t know where to start or what to even look for. And that’s why I started this blog. To hopefully capture and share that moment when (yes, not if, hoping it’s going to turn out well) I do find meaning in my life again.