#haley b

It came to a point where I wasn’t comfortable to reveal who my best friend(s) were in case there were clauses under those relationships that would rear its head come lunch time, where I get reprimanded by the friendship police. What used to feel safe and natural suddenly looked restricted. Friendship felt like teetering on a tight rope. You have to be updated on who your friends have “buang jabat” and follow through.

I moved along in life, vaguely understanding what friendship meant. A group of people you do things with, I guess. In high school I remember when my friends and I sat together at lunch time, discussing the latest going-ons at school. Looking back, it usually involved who were in our good books and who wasn’t. I sighed internally, when one of the girls told me off for talking to one of the girls ‘we’ decided weren’t in our ‘talking list’. “How could you talk to her after what she did to our friend?” I remember thinking it was a trifle thing and honestly did not concern or affected me at all.  Yet I hummed along to this ‘friendship’ song everybody was singing along to.

I felt lonely in my thoughts and opinions at these times. It wasn’t fun either that I was always the one they went to for advice, but rarely the one they listened to when I needed them. Like friendship was some kind of service. I threw the towel in when once, a friend rested her elbow on my shoulder and pointed at me saying, “my sidekick”, a smug smile on her face. I hated that she viewed me as a side character in my life, like I was not worthy to be a hero in my own story.

College years came and I welcomed the shake-up after high school. New faces and reuniting with friendly old ones was refreshing. I remember having a huge fight with someone in my family and cried to a girlfriend about it. And finally something different happened. She listened intently, understanding the delicate nature of sharing about family to others and did not say anything judgmental about a situation she did not live through, but there was empathy there and a kindness in her eyes. And my heart burst with the realisation thinking, oh my God. Is this how being listened to feels like? 

Another cried for me when she witnessed that I was hurt, being flogged by a family member before her eyes. They made me feel like I mattered. Like I was a person in my own right. And I thought, is this what friendship meant?

And don’t get me wrong. It isn’t always rainbows and butterflies in friendships. You have actual fights with your real friends. Maybe over each of you doing foolish things or getting into relationships with foolish people. So sometimes you annoy them and they may annoy you too. But what matters is it’s because you care about each other. You sincerely want what is best for them and they for you.

There is a mutuality in these relationships that I sorely missed before. These people cared about me as much as I did them—and finally the saying “kawan susah dan senang” held some truth for me. I trust them when they say they worry about me. I trust them when they say they are happy for me. And I trust myself to know now what frienship should feel like. And I am so, so grateful.

by Haley B

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I remember the daily sight of our school Makcik sweeping quietly as we walked pass when I was younger. I remember how parents and teachers instilled fear within us growing up: for us to study hard, otherwise we’ll end up being a cleaner. This fear existed in an unusual harmony with the memory of school mornings being pleasant—the clear hallways and pristine grounds. Bathrooms in the mornings were clean. But the makcik’s job was a student’s worst nightmare somehow. We reap the benefits sown by women like the Makcik who toils day in and day out—only to fear becoming like them. The Makcik’s hard work is not worthy of mention in our list of “who I want to be” compositions.

I think about maids living ten, twenty years away from home, usually the breadwinners of their family. Doing bone-breaking hard laborious work on top of living in a stranger’s house, at the beck and call of toddlers and adults alike. They are expected perfection, and nothing else. It’s their job, people say. “I pay you (to step on you).”

I think about single mothers I know. The way they conduct themselves in the eyes of society is subject to scrutiny. If you are without child, the marriage failed because she couldn’t bear the man a child. It is always her at fault, while the infertility of the man is kept secret so the blame falls onto the woman. And if she had children, she has to keep her house in order because any error of hers will be attributed to her failure in keeping her former husband. Never mind if the man was abusive or a cheater—“boys will be boys, we excused.

It isn’t all hunky dory in couples staying together either. I think about those who wake up to the smell of food already wafting in the air. Nobody really asks what time the preparation began. Mother just wakes up early, she usually does. Mother doesn’t usually eat breakfast. Nobody thinks if she could afford to have that time for herself. Nobody thinks if she had trained herself to skip the meal over the years. Other things need to be done. United fronts also demand order, the presence of the silent hardworking partner—otherwise what would the neighbours say? “Bininya jenis inda pemedulian.” She is a wife who doesn’t care for her family.

People sometimes moan about being in a thankless job, but women live a thankless existence. We are expected to be ever resilient and to survive the most horrid things. So often we hear a story of female sacrifice and they get showered with empty praises. Empty, why? When we seek suggestions to find a solution to the plight of women, “biar tia, pandai ya hidup tu.” She’ll survive, women will find ways to get around it, they are ever-resilient, can heal quickly from a child ripping  out them, so they’ll go through the abuses and excuses we make to not help women more. Sorry, I only hear, “You made your bed, now lay in it.”

However, when something bad happens to a man, “kesian. Siapa tah mengelinga kedia tu?” What a shame, who’ll look after him now? What woman can fill that void for him to wash the dishes, clean the house, ensure heterosexual bliss?

I suppose that is why there is this fear of femininity. It is a fear of perpetually doing everything but expecting nothing. And getting ‘something’ is a bonus.

by Haley B

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I try to anchor things to stay the same as much as possible. My sisters tease me for ruining ‘moments’ by verbally pointing them out. It may sound embarrassing, but I just want to announce them each time. “This is a moment”, I would say, “let’s validate each one, savour it and dent it in our memory.”

Take pictures. Make notes. Record it in a diary. Anchor this moment because there’s no remote button to pause, rewind or erase moments in life.

And perhaps this links to one of the causes of my anxieties in life: impermanence, particularly in people. Relationships change, ties are severed, and feelings grow stale.

People leave. 

My mother once returned from a funeral, sharing how sad she was to find none of the dead’s siblings came. It’s funny because death had physically severed the dead’s ties to the world. The siblings’ absence highlighted that the person was already long dead to them.

The funeral merely officiated it. 

If family ties can break this easy, then under that rung of the ladder, so can friendships and even more, relationships. And it is no surprise that a chunk of my attendance in therapy is to manage my anxieties dealing with external factors beyond my control. 

From therapy, however, there has been a period of kind words to myself, a lot of positive self-talk and self-reflections that has gotten me through my anxieties. With this, came this shift of focusing on me as a living and breathing entity in a situation rather than focusing on the situations themselves. 

And in that process, I did find one thing that was permanent: Me.

I didn’t find some secret elixir to eternal life or anything. 

But the fact of the matter is, in my most distant memory of consciousness and until the day I die, I will live with myself. Conducting my thoughts, feelings and behaviours. These will be permanent experiences until for whatever reason (death being one of them), I lose my consciousness. 

The unbreakable bond I was looking for was the bond with myself. The realisation that I was sitting in the control room, and had power over me. 

by Haley B

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I have been feeling tested by people around me for the longest period, and I now wonder if it the biggest common factor in each situation (i.e. me) has to change, for change to finally happen. My ego would tell me that there is nothing wrong with me and that I shouldn't yield to people with problematic tendencies.

I am certain that this isn't an isolated experience. Nobody chooses who their families are and therefore that already leaves you at the mercy of your situation. Each family bear their own scars; tragic experiences they either overcome and move forward together from (ideally), experiences they are still healing from (still ideal) and experiences they would wish did not happen and would like to forget about.

I went to therapy trying to gain strategies to handle how I respond to my family. My therapist had given me the enlightened perspective of separating the person from the behaviour. Hence you can isolate the "bad" behaviour from the person doing them and reflect on the situation as your loved ones simply engaging in these behaviours not them being toxic entities per se.

This strategy worked up to a point... until I asked myself why? Why do you have to engage in these toxic behaviours? Can't you just engage healthy behaviours already?

 A good friend of mine shared a priceless insight with me not too long ago because I had started to describe my family's engagement in toxic behaviours as "games" they were playing. I told my friend that I refused to play it. And then my friend said, "there is no game. Everybody is just trying to survive in their own way".

No matter the context your family is in, the reality in general is that everybody is just trying to survive. And how they want to achieve that as individuals will be different.

I began to look at the situation differently and tried to look at it from a point of mercy, and slowly (very slowly), I am starting to gain control of how I respond to them. I have since decided to put up a boundary between me and these instances of rude speech and unkind gestures. More like a shield, not a wall. I can choose to be open and loving but also protect myself from things that I do not deserve. When an unkind word is said to me, I ask myself. Is it true? And if it isn't I imagine it bounce off my shield.

But I realise that my shield needs to be maintained as well. I needed to love and respect myself, challenge my own negative thoughts to be strong in protecting myself from all that was external to me. There has been a lot of 'self-talk' involved. It isn't as strange as it sounds. It is to pay attention to how you talk about yourself in your head and to pay as much kindness and respect to the person/people you hold dear to you heart. It may feel weird at first to pause and pay attention to how you speak about yourself in your head and then when you are with others--but it helps a bunch when you find that you can be your own advocate.

Some days are harder than others and I have no strength to lift that shield to protect me. But just with anything, you get better at it by doing it again and again. It is true what they say about falling seven times, getting back up at eight. There is no triumphant moment where you finally hit a level and you are perpetually sanguine and self-loving. It is continuous work, work you will do until you die. Because this is your life and nobody is going to live it for you--and who better to take care of you first if not yourself.

What I desire is to consistently use instances of "garam hidup" to make life well-seasoned and enjoyable, like preparing a dish of ikan masin on my steamed tapioca, and not let life turn me into a salty person.

by Haley B

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