Selection

Meet up with 3 other ex-colleagues on the eve of a public holiday, preparing a cake to celebrate one of their birthdays, and chatting in the living room till 9.30PM – Perfectly fine and enjoyable.

Staying back for an hour to have lunch in the office to welcome new staff, watch them do initiation forfeits, and make small talk – Escapes immediately after workshop session ends.

Meeting up with a friend I have not seen in 2 years, in a foreign country, and spending an entire day together catching up along the beautiful coastline of her country – I can’t wait.

Going on a company-sponsored trip to an offshore island to spend 3 days 2 nights with a planned itinerary, large group outings and games and activities – all in the name of “bonding” – I’d take unpaid leave if I could or had to.

I’m not anti-social.

Just …. selectively social.

Your Point Is?

Some time back in early May, this happened.

When you’re someone who pays excessive attention to how the other person is feeling in any conversation you have, it can hurt pretty bad when you feel that the other person doesn’t reciprocate, or doesn’t seem to have the same ability to care about how others – aka yourself – can be impacted by the tone they use, the things they say, the way they put across certain things.

It was a Saturday evening, and the friend and I were walking along the civic district, making our way to an evening concert. She was telling me about a boy in her class. He has anger management issues, and despite his ability to rationalize and process through his actions when he’s calm, the moment he is triggered he forgets everything has has said, promised and vowed, and goes berserk again in one viscous cycle after another. She sighs in exasperation and says: “What happens to the rational voice inside when he is acting up? He is a deep thinker and fiercely intelligent. Why does he allow himself to go berserk the moment he is triggered?”

I wanted to reply, in a nutshell, that because when someone is overcome with anger, it’s not the rational brain that is working, but the primal brain, the lower level brain, the one that executes fight or flight mode, the survival mode. While rational thinking is a process, there’s hardly any room for that in fight or flight mode – the body simply reacts. And children who aren’t given enough alternatives or coping mechanisms to their fight or flight mode, could end up becoming adults who react in the same way every time they encounter strong emotions.

It all sounded pretty good and logical in my head, of course.

But somewhere in the process of getting the words from my brain to my mouth, they morph into sentences that trail off halfway, words that get stuck, thought links that fade away. I think I must have paused somewhere along “Anger is a very primal emotion…”

And then it came.

“Uh huh. So your point is?”

BOOM.
I’m in an interview room, trying to explain my entire life’s philosophy and beliefs to a panel of judges who are going to determine the value of my life.

“So your point is?”

High heeled shoes tap impatiently on the cold marble floor. The air is thick with murky silence as I try to breathe and push the words from my head to my mouth, hopefully in a coherent order. To articulate what had been a beautiful, logical chain of thoughts in my head.

“So your point is?”

My point is that I see enough value in this conversation to pursue it with you. I value you enough to attempt to share what I think about what you have just shared with me.

“So your point is?”

The point is that I’m inarticulate, useless at speaking off the cuff about things that matter the most to me, so why should I bother?

“So your point is?”

BOOM.

I’m back along the streets of the civic district, making our way to an evening concert.

“So your point is?”

I take a deep breath.

“My point is…”

I speak slowly and gradually bring the words out, one by one. Not that I really remember what I said anymore. Friend was silent as she listened. Maybe she is unconvinced. Maybe she took something from my reply to mull over. Whatever it is, I’m glad she didn’t come back with another “but…”. Because by then I needed to retreat, needed shelter to heal the wound and fear.

Until the next time we have to be Out There again.

Get my point?

Disclaimer: Friend in this episode is a close and good friend whom I enjoy talking to and sharing ideas with. I just tend to forget how straightforward and impatient she can be at times, and then things like that happen. She said “so your point is?” ONCE and the rest of it took place in the recesses of my easily-stimulated, INFJ mind.
And yet, life goes on.

The Meeting

Last night, I attended a meeting within a local professional body.

I am unfamiliar with their structure.

Unfamiliar with their relations, their dynamics with each other.

I have never worked with any of them before.

I’ve not even stepped into my role as one of them.

I’m still establishing my identity as one.

Still searching for that part of me which is sure that she will be a good one.

I was looking at them, and thinking that they are nice, committed people, but also wondering how deep could our relationship go, remembering the fact that we are just connected professionally, after all.

And because of all that unfamiliarity, I was Quiet.

I think what was most disappointing was me thinking that it’d be ok for me to be quiet this once.

Thinking that they’d accept me being myself this once, because it was my first time after all.

But the prick came when, at the end of the meeting, when we were closing by answering a question and going around in a circle, the nice chair of the meeting quipped to me: “You’ve been so quiet!”

And suddenly all other eyes in the room were on me.

Deer in headlights mode on.

And I remember feeling disappointed, thinking: “Not here, too?”

But I guess Life has been a pretty good teacher, and I’ve found myself in enough situations like that to know how to react and respond.

So I simply smiled, put on my Teacher voice, and responded to the question which we were discussing.

Everyone laughed at something I said, and the moment passed.

 

But the process sure felt like it took out a lot of me.

 

Sounds like a few more hours of solitude is in order.

It’s Over

My thoughts after the whole extravaganza:

Oh my goodness. it’s finally over. The parade, the red and white, the singing, oh my goodness the singing. I’m so glad it’s over.

I didn’t think I did anything meaningful. And I felt stupid for worrying over something as non-meaningful as that. And I did it all anyway, despite the worry. The fake enthusiasm, the singing, the rallying, the big wide smiles all the way.

Maybe I’m not happy because I feel I have done something which wasn’t true to myself.

At least it’s over.

At the risk of sounding self absorbed and indulgent, I think my Self deserves a little encouraging affirmation, so here goes:

Well done! Well done for giving it your all despite thinking that it might not have been the most meaningful thing to spend your time and energy on. Well done for encouraging the students who didn’t feel entirely comfortable and for pulling them into the spirit of things. Well done for placing your self-consciousness aside, at least for awhile. You may not have wanted to do it, if given a choice, but you did it all the same. This shows that you are reliable, flexible and adaptable in the face of challenges. You truly are, you truly can be. Now, go seek out all the solitude you want. You deserve it 🙂

The “Someday” Trap

A conversation with a close friend recently got me thinking about the extents one would go for meaning.

There are people in this world who find meaning in making sacrifices for the greater good, staying on in environments they may find draining and tiring, just so they can feel the satisfaction of making a difference in an institution, with people they care about and work closely with.

There are also people in this world who cannot imagine being in their shoes, choosing instead to pursue meaning on their own terms, seeking to be separated from an environment they find stifling, regardless of the rewards the system and institution may grant to keep people inside.

As someone who (currently) belongs to the latter camp, I tried to understand why my friend from the former would want to make sacrifices like that. To delay her own aspirations so that she can make “lasting impacts” in her institution, so that she can leave a “legacy” in the programs she heads, so that she can pass her work on to a “successor”.

The conclusion I came to was that it is not for me to judge how different people form meaning out of different things and circumstances. Perhaps I am the self-centered one, the one unwilling to make personal sacrifices for the greater good, masking my selfishness under the guise of “seeking personal meaning”.

I just hope that we haven’t fallen into the “someday” trap, the mindset that “someday I’ll do what I want, once I have accomplished this, and that …”
I hope, for the sake of my friend, that these sacrifices for the “lasting impact”s and “legacy”s are truly meaningful and worth it.

Inside Out

The “Rebel” in me says: Don’t do anything more than necessary. Especially when it only serves to accentuate another portfolio. Or only to show off. Or to demonstrate a capability the world could do without. Don’t stress over the small things that others can worry about. Take care of your well-being, because you still have a long way to go. Look at the big picture and see that by not sweating the small stuff you are allowing yourself more energy to run the whole distance without burning out. Let them do what they want, you don’t have to play by their rules. Protect and strengthen your inner resources for the work that really matters to you.

The Rebel is complemented by the Zen One, the one who says: You can feel that you don’t want to be here, that you don’t want to work in this system for the rest of your life, but you owe it to the 40 souls that come in every lesson – you owe it to them to be fully present, to give your best, to see their beauty, feel their pain, experience life to its fullest in that 1hr and 10minutes with them.

It is my hope that these 2 sides will continue to be developed evenly and complementarily.

The World is Not A Wish-Granting Factory

In my mind, I envisioned coming back to the relatively clean and neat kitchen, the spacious hall, the peace and quiet, with house mates who make as little sounds as I do, or maybe even less, or at most.. just slightly more.

Well, after an 8-hour plane ride, I realise that to not be the case. Not only has the hall been made more cramped with a newly-installed game console, but the sink was piled with undone dishes (from the night before, because they had not woken up when I arrived!), the table had crumbs (I do not wish to know how long they have been there), and the dustbin lids left OPENED. I was shocked, traumatized. I actually worked hard to leave the common areas clean! You mean there are people in this world who do not believe in that?! I tried to breathe, but found it really hard to be calm (hence my numerous rants on messaging apps).

Thankfully, the people in question made some effort to make the environment more livable, after my comment of “Er… It’s a little messy, isn’t it?” Though there is still much room for improvement. Also, I can spot other areas in which future conflicts can/will arise if nothing is done at this stage. I can only pray for strength to tide through this year. Then again… This might be a good thing after all – I won’t feel so sad to leave when it’s time to go.

The world is not a wish-granting factory – it is our rigorous training ground. And only those who can take the training become better and stronger people. May I resolve to be such a person.

Palace Cinema

Before the film, at Leichhardt. Made the right choice choosing the cinema in a slightly suburban area instead of the city. The vibes are just different.

Only unfortunate thing was… due to train trackwork, took me almost 3 hours to get there, and another almost 3 hours to get back!

 

 

“I Can’t Work With Normal Kids Anymore”

Imagine my relief, when I blurted this line out, and Y, a wonderful therapist whom I greatly respect and adore, echoed my sentiments and told me that she could totally understand.

“I used to get so frustrated with normal kids as well”, she said. “I’d look at them and think – you have everything you’ll ever need and yet you are not cherishing it. There are kids who have so little, born disabled… and yet they are trying so hard” (I almost started tearing when I heard her say that).

“Yes! I felt that way even before I came here, and now I feel that even more strongly.”

R, who was nearby, also agreed, saying that once you’ve gotten a taste of therapeutic work, it’s hard to go back to whatever we were doing, because it will naturally seem so much more meaningless (he was from the corporate world, imagine that!).

And indeed, I do feel that most of the things I’ve done before has been pretty meaningless. Not all, but most.

Because when you’ve seen how a non-verbal person can communicate through singing and smiling, when you’ve seen a so-called intellectually disabled young woman reach out and give you a high-five in the middle of our drumming improvisation, when you’ve felt the hands of a 4-year old with autism stretch out and hold your arm and bring your fingers to the piano, laughing as she plays the piano through your hands, and then reach out to touch your hair and say your name in a loud clear voice… How can one go back?

How can I go back to the system where days are spent rushing through syllabus, where fancy lesson packages are prepared with no time to carry them out, where obedience and silence are order of the day, where countless events and excursions and enrichment activities are carried out not because they are truly beneficial, but because KPIs need to be met, because portfolios need to be beefed up, because people need to look good on paper.

I just want to pull my hair in despair when I think about it.

As much as I am living in the present and getting the most I can out of this amazing experience, I know that this too shall pass. And then… what?

Money

If I say I didn’t join Teaching for the money, I would be lying. Of course the money played a part in me signing on the dotted line. We need to survive, after all. We have parents counting on us. We have desires we want to fulfill. Like travel. And all those blogshop clothes. And the prospect of being paid while studying something I am passionate about seemed so very enticing when I was 16 (It still is).

But I also strongly believe that the money alone should not be the determining factor. Because if it is, sooner or later you would start comparing yourself with others who earn more. Or with those who appear to do less but are getting the same pay.  And that, is the surefire way to make yourself unhappy.

If we use money to measure happiness, we will never have enough of both.

Just felt the need to say that.