Turning 33

Last week, I turned thirty-three. I wish I could sing Taylor Swift's 22 at the top of my lungs and even though I could change the numbers and it would still rhyme (I'm kinda desperate, here), I have mixed feelings about my age. I will try to describe how it feels.

Thirty-three.

I want to say yes to everything that broadens my horizon. Most time, I feel like there's so much to see and do, with too little time left in the world. Yet sometimes, I’m left with too little options to choose. I feel I am at my bravest most days, but some days it feels like I'm getting closer to my expiration date.

Thirty-three.

I'm stepping into the unknown and it's up to my lame self-control to navigate my life. Sometimes I'm still questioning if I have made the best decisions and wondering if my actions and words come from good faith.

Thirty-three.

I gave up trying to be perfect. I now could look in the mirror and see I am so much beyond my skin freckles and wrinkles. I don't wanna miss the best parts of this life because I'm tied down by my own insecurities. I'm not forever. No one is. I'm not trying to reinvent myself. I want to trust my instincts and see what happens.

I'm ready and I'm not. 

I'm learning that I can be both.

2190 days

 

My daughter just turned 6 last week. 

Six years. 

That's 2190 days and 52.560 hours of witnessing her growing up. 

Six years.

Six suddenly sounds like a big number.

When she's small, I used to carry her and she used to follow me everywhere. 

She was like an extension of me in this world. 

There are times I wonder where she got her attitude from. 

Then I realized...

Her thoughts and behavior mirrored mine and her father.

Then she started to grow her own color. 

I used to write down each new skill she acquired. 

The first time she ate all by herself. 

The first time she chose her toys.

When I saw how excited she got when making new friends.

The first time she told me she wanted to be a dancer. Then a writer. Then a doctor. Then an artist.

The first time she told me she had a crush on a boy in her class.

Those first times...

One after the other.

Until I couldn't keep track anymore.

In the last 6 years,

I learned how to work on my own feelings, too. Because it affected my action, and what I did, she would see and do.

In those 2190 days, 

I've changed my views on parenting a few times. From a tips-and-tricks to the long-term approach. It's been about finding what matters in the long run.

In those 52.560 hours,

Every day, we learn how to be good for her to grow up among. 

Happy birthday, my little one.

The Gift of Time

 For many of us, time is just... Well, time. That 24 hours everyone has to live. "Another day" . 

We have time clues within our reach, on our hands, wall, table, phone. We 'sense' time by looking at the sky, or how long we think we've been doing something. Time expands and shrinks based on what we do and feel. Time flies when we talk to the ones we love. Two hours went just like that. Time slows down when we're waiting. Five minutes feels like a lifetime.

But time, you see, is always there. It may be rushed, slow in motion, or slippery in our hand, but it is not impossible to hold on to. 

I want to hold on to time. 

By recognizing its movements and the passing seconds I could never get back. I hold on to it by being aware of the changes surrounding me. I look at my face in the mirror and see dark spots and soft wrinkles under my eyes. That's time. I touch my hand and remember that the surface used to be thinner and softer. That's time. I count my husband's grey hairs, and feel the thickening skin on his face. And don't even get me started on my daughter. That's time. Going away. Leaving traces.

Sometimes, time is rough, when I see the people I care about starting to lose hope after their years of struggle. I want to slow down the time for them, help them to take a breathe and maybe find a tiny hint of love in my presence. But more often than that, time is like a breeze. I lean in to it, and know when to just let go and ride its currents.

Time is our gift, but only if we are paying attention to it. Only if we learn how to tame it.

SKB and a Worrying Wave of Anxiety

 It was 16.09 as I checked my watch after my assessor wrapped up my interview. I remember being called into the room not even 30 minutes before. I remember standing up from my chair, walking like a zombie to gather my bags, processing all the questions in my head like an old Android phone. 

Already?

I still have a lot to tell.

I haven't told her about this and that, and a lot more.

Did I say something wrong? 

Or is it possible she already made an assumption about me? 

Trying to see a bigger picture of me as a person based on the very limited information I provided?

But she didn't ask me about this and that, and a lot of things.

But I have prepared myself for tens and tens of questions, but how I only got very few?

My head spun, wondering if it went wrong. Maybe I set my expectations too high, hoping she'd dig deeper because I was 100% ready to be brutally honest and open up about myself. I cried on my way home listening to Taylor Swift, feeling so heavy-hearted. I felt like I wasn't properly interviewed. Was I not interesting enough to be asked more? Seriously, my anxiety just shot through the roof the minute I walked out of the room. 

It was 21.13. I came home to my husband's proud smile despite all my whining on the phone. We talked until past midnight. He patiently listened to me whining all over again, saying the same things over and over. He then said something that woke me up.

"Ainun, don't you think you're a bit selfish towards the interviewer? She has interviewed maybe hundreds of people before you, and obviously more after you. It was past 4 pm. Obviously, she was tired. You expecting the interview would last 2 hours sounds a bit silly. Try to see this from her point of view."

I was offended at first. I mean, he's my husband and he should be on my side, right?. But now, today, after a good night's sleep and some more this morning, I can see the light in his answer. Yes, she did seem tired. Her voice and eyes were weak. And yes, now I feel selfish for what I said. Hahahha... Men, they seem to have better logic than us women.

Well, anyway. It's past 28 hours since the interview. I can't dwell on something I cannot control (anymore), so I'm writing this post to celebrate my hard work. I take pride in my effort because it's the only thing I can control. If my result weren't as expected, obviously I'd be heartbroken, but I would never regret it because I tried my very best. I never wanna look back and wonder what if I could do more, or why I didn't take a chance.

The highlight of my 2021 has been these CPNS tests, and I'm super grateful for it. I learned a lot about myself, to be honest. Some people say when you're past your 30 and having kid(s), you don't have the grit and persistence anymore for this kind of competition. But I proved myself, and I never felt this good about something I've done even when I haven't got the result yet. I also learned that I have an amazing support system. My family, husband, best friends, my daughter. They were rooting for me all the way. They celebrated my hard work. And for that, I feel like the luckiest person to be alive.

Overwhelmingly Overwhelmed

When things start to feel overwhelming, I stop and take a step back. Sometimes one step. Sometimes more… up to a perfect distance from where I could view myself as an object rather than myself. 

Then I think about what I can control. What I can decide right now. For myself. What I can slow down, speed up, or pass over. 

One thing I ALWAYS get the chance to do regardless of the time and circumstances: taking a deep breath.

Deep down…

Feeling the air travel slowly and lightly from my nose, to my throat, to my lung, all the way down to my belly. Nice and full. Instead of merely breathing in my chest where I only feel half breathing.

What else can I control?

Hm…

I can wake up early when the world is quiet and cold. Or… I can sleep in, wake up late when my body needs to rest longer.

I can take a walk. Slow walk. Run. While listening to my favourite songs blasting through my earphones. Or… I can sit down and read on my bed, curled up in a thick blanket like a lazy bear.

I can close my eyes and feel the water touch my skin in my wudhu. I can pray longer, wish more good things for more people. 

I can control what I consume for my body. Some days I need a cup of strong coffee to jumpstart my day. Some days I want to slow down and make green tea. 

I can choose what I want to learn about. I can learn tons of materials in a day, or none for days. When I think about it, it’s a form of luxury, isn’t it? To be able to choose what you study and how you do it.

I can choose my words. I can choose who I want to talk to. What I want to talk about. 

Even though I can’t always choose my thoughts – they just flow like a river all day, I can try to control which thoughts I give my energy and time to.

What can you control today? For yourself?

Please know that it’s perfectly okay to be upset, sad and frustrated. 

We can still hold feelings of gratitude while holding the feelings of everything else.