Family, Home & Country

It is almost a year to the day, when I made a difficult journey home. It was unplanned for and it was just 2 weeks before mum was due to visit me. Instead, I was travelling the other way. Mum had been admitted to an intensive care unit, unable to breathe on her own. It was discovered, she had a brain tumour and whether she would recover from it was indeterminate. It was very difficult for family who were there with her then, to see her hooked up to machines. Mum unable to speak, indicated she wanted to go home and we knew that by fulfilling mum’s wish to be released from intensive care unit at the hospital, to return home, she would never make it. Hence, my long flight back. I couldn’t quite process how I was feeling but I knew if I didn’t make it back to say goodbye, I would never have forgiven myself.

The week running up to my flight, knowing that mum was poorly, was a difficult time. In a lot of ways, I had been estranged from her and my family for many years. So there were many painful memories that came back to me. As well as a sense of guilt for I had not been there for them for the last 9 years. That week also brought back memories of the time when we lost dad. I was much younger then and even then, I was not the responsible young adult that I should I have. I was too busy and engrossed with whatever it was that was going on in my life. The grief I felt for the loss of dad was deeper, perhaps it was because I was younger and I was closer to him than I had been with mum. Dad and I had many father - daughter moments. I remember an old joke we had in the family when we looked at a old B & W photograph of me as a baby in dad’s arms, dressed like a boy… I was unfortunately, not quite a son he would have liked! In comparison, mum and I have had many moments of conflicts, contention and basically a struggle of domination over my life which has caused me to walk out and was disowned. A very James Dean moment, I think.. But I did think then in my petulance I was a rebel with a cause!

So now, a year on from taking mum’s ashes out to sea and as I was reminded recently, it will be 20 years this November, since Dad passed on, I cannot help but think whatever happened to all that time that has passed. My memories of Dad seems a little dimmer as years go by and I wonder what he would have thought of me now. Would he have been angry, hurt and disappointed with some of my decisions in life? Would he have been as accepting and comforting as he once said ‘ Whatever happens, I will always be there’. My memories of mum are often tainted with some tinge of frustration and anger but I know that over the years, since I have moved away, mum had become a much better person. She did mellow. She did finally learnt that there were some boundaries she had to respect and not cross. I can only attribute this to the patience, persistence and strength that Sis had shown over the years.

Whatever it was that was right or wrong, mum did have a good 10 years after Dad passed on. She travelled. She had no grand children to worry about. She wasn’t always in the best of health, but she had lived a life quite full compared to many of her peers. I came across some old photographs taken of mum when she last visited, her usual frown when she has a her picture taken, Caerphilly Castle was in the background. Sis and I always told her ‘Mum, please smile.. Stop frowning for the camera!’. I would like to remember mum as someone who, despite being from a very poor family and was sent to work at a very young age and perhaps was bullied as young servant girl, she brought us up to be independent, forward thinking and as sis and I would always say ‘we are head strong because of mum and it was good training, else we would have crumbled!’

So as my little family gets smaller, there’s just the two of us sisters left, it made me realised how the bond between us is something to truly treasure and cherish. No one else in the world, grew up with me and share some of that history with me. No one else could quite love me with all my flaws, cracks and what have you as unconditionally and yet be my strength when I needed them to be. Over the last 2 years, it seems to me, we share a lot more in common or have certain similar quirks, it’s quite endearing and yet quite scary. When all fails, we just do the Freudian thing ‘Blame mum and dad. We are flawed, tarnished and traumatised by them both’.

This brings me to the question as to where is home then? I would say, home now is here in Wales and I suppose for many years, it has been so but I didn’t want to commit to it. I didn’t want to alienate myself from the place where I was born and brought up. It felt like a betrayal. An act of disloyalty to say, Wales is my home and not Malaysia. However, my rocky start in Wales and having come through all that, Wales helped me challenged myself and my old ways of thinking and living. By being different as I am and being thrust into a different way of life, experiences, relationships and people - I became even more aware of what it means to adapt, to respect and acknowledge even the most subtle differences between myself and everyone else. Not to pre-judge, assume or make unjust comparison. I can only hope, others offer me the same respect and acknowledgement. It is not often easy and continues to be a work-in-progress!

Does this then make me any less of being a Malaysian? The answer to that is a definitive no. I will always be proud to say I am Malaysian and even if I choose to any some point in time to formally relinquish my citizenship, I will still consider myself Malaysian. Despite the political and social challenges I have read about, heard about in Malaysia, I believe Malaysia as I know it, are the sums of the culture, attitude and spirit of its peoples. Politicians do not make a nation, people do. In that macro view, I do feel angry and sad at what Malaysia as a country has become. However, it is very heart warming and inspiring to see people from a multitude of ethnicity stand together in moments of hardship and speak for what they believe is right, at the risk of being arrested. The respect of differences was never easy and there will always differences and that is what makes being Malaysian so unique.

So what does it mean to me, being Malaysian? First thing that comes to every Malaysian’s mind - love of FOOD of course! Well besides, eating being a favourite pastime and besides, the variety of culinary delights like no other in the world, Malaysians are a melting pot of so many things. We speak so many different languages. Most Malaysians speak at least two, if not three languages and god knows how many other dialects, regional or otherwise. We also have our very own version of the Queen’s English, called Manglish and sometimes we are quite proud of it because no one else can understand us! We are totally politically incorrect, most of the time - no shame, not malicious in any way as we play-up, joke and exchange banter on typical ethic stereotypes. Malaysians have a way of easy tolerance with each other and understands that it’s ok not to agree with certain cultural practices but, there is no need to criticise or offer opinions on something alien to one’s upbringing. These are just some of the quirkiness of being Malaysian that will always be part of who I am and I cling on to them unashamedly because it makes me unique to the rest of the world.

I suppose over the years, I have straddled two lives - past and present, two countries and estranged from my real home, which is my family. Time to let go of things I can no longer hold on to and just be happy to have memories which are unique to me, of a different time, a different place. The healing of what had gone on for years has begun and now it is for me and all that is left of my family to embrace the years to come, knowing that each of this moment forward is important.

So Pa and Mummy, you can both rest well now, your daughters are well. We are good. Missing you both - well not all the bad bits, but we will always miss you both in our own way.

Being Good Enough? Being Best I Can Be?

We all make lists. We have lists of things we have done, things we want to do and things we wish to do. We have lists for various aspects of our lives - our career, business, work, home, leisure and the everyday mundane living. Sometimes, it can be quite a revelation when we look back on some of our lists and discover how far we have come or how we have perhaps wavered from what we have set out to do. Most importantly, we will realise that what had been of significance at particular moment in our lives, may be of little importance or may even be of total irrelevance to us as we are now. With utmost certainty, time has moved us along. With utmost certainty we would have changed somewhat. However, as much as we have changed, there are certain burdens or scars of time that we carry with us. Doubts, insecurities and fears that may fuel our ambitions, aspirations and our endless self query of ‘ Am I good enough?’. In the same way, we could be carrying such burdens that over time, chip away at us and we become more accustomed to seeing our own limitations. We forget to ask ‘ can I be the best I can be?’

For me, I am a keeper of many lists. However, for many years my lists were all to do with my career, my work, achievements, recognition and acknowledgement in that very narrow aspect of my life. Every recognition fueled my obsession to work harder, try harder and strive harder. The instant positive affirmations that meant ‘I was good enough’ were the definition of who I am. It was such a significant part of my life, nothing else mattered. I was ‘successful’ because I had a career I loved. I had respect because I delivered results. I was rewarded because I delivered. I had authority. I had status. I was just turning 30. Everything was looking up. Then, life began to feel empty. It was as if I had packed too much into a short career span. I was exhausted. I was running on empty. I had to simply stop.

So stop, I did. From one extreme to another. I gave up all that and decamped to 6,000 miles away. Then I spent the next 8 years battling myself. Like an addiction, I could not kick the habit of wanting more. Having to start all over, where everything that I had done and achieved, accounted for nothing was a very painful personal journey. I was in a foreign land, nobody cared what I had to offer. Nobody respected what I had to offer. In gist, from a ‘somebody’ to a ‘nobody’ or at least that was how I felt. So I trudged along, nagging thoughts of ‘am I not good enough?’ followed me. Career and personal challenges compounded my feelings of despair and doubts. I was in effect, running around in circles. I could not see beyond my feelings and my own perceived ‘failings’. The one dimensional me didn’t cope very well. I just blamed the whole world for being unfair but really, deep down inside, I was convinced ‘I wasn’t good enough’.

Then like a blessing in disguise, personal circumstances dictated that I had to move home. That move was emotionally difficult and financially challenging. It was at this juncture, that I realised the enormity of my decision made 8 years ago to leave all of my life behind. It made me realised that in spite of all the professional and personal challenges in the last 8 years, I have weathered them, more or less on my own. It made me realised also the relationships that are important to me and those that are not. It was not a case anymore of ‘am I good enough’.. it was how can I be better.

That journey to being better began about 18 months ago. It began with a pair of Asics trainers on my feet. It began with tentative attempts to run. I figured since I couldn’t ride a bike or swim and is totally uncoordinated in any sports, I could at least give running a try. So try I did. It was not pleasant at all. Being a chain smoker previously didn’t help. Being a sedentary couch potatoes didn’t help. Then a friend recommended I join a local run in the park. I looked at him incredulously and thought seriously.. I don’t think it is the thing for me. The thought of running with others and coming last was quite horrifying. But, I decided I will give it a go. Worst thing that can happen is I do come last and I would be so embarrassed, I didn’t have to go back.

But 18 months on - 1820 kilometres covered so far, 3 road races, 2 off road races, more than 40 park runs later complete with ankle sprains, stress fracture and other aches and pains, I am still running. I have never come last yet in any of the races or park runs so I guess I am doing ok. However, the question of ‘am I good enough?’ is of less significance now. It is more of ‘how much better can I be?’. Running is not a panacea for all one’s problems but it changes you. Somehow, it is like your mind has being re-wired. You see daily irritations, frustrations as little necessities of life as you began to put things in your life into perspectives. You see limitations as something to work at and not give it to. You see temporary set backs as a need to adapt or change the way you approach things. You liberate yourself from having identify or define yourself by what you do. You truly understand, realised what it means that, when there’s a will to do something, a true motivation and desire to do, you will find ways to do it. Most importantly to me, it helped me understand that ‘being good enough’ means little because it means sufficient, sufficient to some pre set standards - self imagined, self imposed or standards expected of you from others. Being the best that you can be, means you commit to trying your best given what you have at any given time.

Hence, the pursuit of your own personal best is therefore not static because life is not static. So all of us, in our own ways are work in progress. The key is enjoy and embrace that process. Progress is a certainty, if you want it. So make a list of things what you want to do and do it, what’s stopping you?