The Lotus

Its hard to look inward to find “the Self” and to understand who I truly am. I have been suffering lately, inwardly. My partner keeps asking what is wrong and I cant seems to explain it. Its the rumble in the soul. Its the disturbance in my spirit. My yin and yang are not balanced. My sadness is intense at times at time, then its a quiet hum in the background of my unbalanced life.

The spirit is a wreck. I am totally messed up. I wait for the day I find some grasp on my life. I keep searching for my life to find meaning, purpose, some consistency. The lotus has always fascinated me. Its resilience and strength in such a miserable place. Very little likelihood of survival, yet it thrives. So how do I do the same?

In the last 4.5 years I’ve migrated because of love. Left my life, left my family, left my career. I left everything for my partner. I left a lot of hope, belief, faith and love squarely on the shoulders of one person. Some would say that wouldn’t be a fair expectation to place on a new partner. Some would say I made my own choice. I would say I never expected to be disappointed so deeply, profusely and incredibly. So completely left alone. I had to question who I was… I still do. I lost confidence, happiness and my sense of self. I’m still quite certainly lost.

Migration, a new marriage, new living conditions, new so-called family, living with a mother in-law who seemed to like me but didn’t when I migrated and lived with her, a brother in-law and sister in-law who watched me suffer but didn’t say a thing to stop it or help in any way, no career to talk about as I could not get a job for the longest time in spite being very successful in my birth country….. not sure if I should go on. Sounds like a litany of complaints except the point when I was suicidal and wanted to end it all. I feel these things were all going on at the same time and so it was hard to process. Alone.

My friendships were all long distance except for one. I wish I had better perspective, but maybe Ill gain it as I write my pain. I believe we are all made equal. Our souls are equal. My thoughts; we are all made of the same power / energy / spirit, hence we are all equal. Yet when we are born, we are on a different level of learning. We all have different steps to take to get the path which leads to light, joy, love, enlightenment and all those wonderful things.

For now, I know I have a long way to go to get there. I need to get past the pain and work towards some sense of self. Like the lotus represents spirituality, my heart will somehow go on. My spirit will somehow push through the mud that is the lives we keep living and hopefully there are little hints or signs as to where the path to light leads. Please share any clues/comments you have on how to get there…..

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Even a lotus needs mud to live. Beauty amidst utter miserable mud.
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This 2017

I guess I have taken time to realise I need┬áto write out my pain. Today it’s the beginning of February 2017 and I feel lost and listless. I wish I were a stronger individual. What happened to my hopes and dreams? Yesterday a friend suggested I was settling for less because I always wanted a child and now I don’t seem to anymore. Were these my hopes and dreams ? A child? Is that why I feel like a failure or that I can’t get out of bed, or that I am feeling crushed by the weight of something sitting firmly on my chest?

I think it’s not a baby/offspring that keeps me sad. I think my loneliness can’t be explained. No one needs me. So why am I here?

The beauty I see around me seems so tainted by the  reality of my loneliness.

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Imprinted impression

Alone
Alone

A parent has the ultimate influence on a child. Joy, pride, disappointment or derision. My mother always compared my sister or cousins against me. I always fell short. Always. I noticed but didn’t know the extent to which this hurt me. When I was 10, I finally did well. I was 3rd in my class and 7th in my whole grade. My impressionable memory was at the award ceremony at my school. I was waiting to get my trophy and so we were all waiting in line with our parents standing a little bit away. Only my mother came and I had a feeling she didn’t want to be there. I remember my nervousness, yet feeling proud that I did well. My best friend, Chong SG was the best. First in the whole grade and I was so incredibly proud of this light-brown haired beauty. Her mother was talking to mine. Whilst I was trying to quiet the noise in my head and the nerves, I stopped and heard it clearly. I think I didn’t believe it. My mother’s disappointment at hearing my best friend who had 5 other siblings and whose father was a lorry driver did immensely well. I heard her asking again what number Chong got overall. I was sure I heard the question already hanging in the air. “Why didn’t you do that well?”.

Instead, my nerves quieted down, I remember quietly getting my prize after Chong and the person who got number 2. I was 3. A good number but always not good enough for my mother.

When it was time to go, my mother managed to ask a friend to give us a ride home. I remember it so clearly. The sun streaming through the window down the back seat of the car where I sat and my mother’s accusing voice, sounding quite ashamed, telling her friend that I only got number 7th in the whole grade.

My hurt was instant. I had to keep myself from crying. The pain rising to my throat and nearly spilling out of my lashes. I realised I only had myself. I was alone. My sister would later tell me I wasn’t in the best class so it was easy to get number 3. I couldn’t tell her about being 7th because my mother had already condemned the position unacceptable. My father was a distant man. Careless with his children’s upbringing or life. He only noticed or tried to be a father once we had left school and started clubbing.

It hurts even now. This memory ruined my self belief. My sense of family. It also links with all my rage in my teens as the holidays following this school awards I was condemned to a 12 day “holiday” with a witch. But that’s another story for another day.