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. 

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?

To Allah we all belong, and to Him we'll return

 

Today, I'm reminded again how this life is but a stepping stone to the afterlife. Covid took away my thesis supervisor, my professor. Our most recent conversation took place just a few days ago. We got Covid around the same time in early August, but he's old and could only handle herbal remedies. We talked a lot during that time. Even in sick, he wrote research articles with his colleagues and me. He told me at the end of August that he was starting to feel better.

When I heard the news, I didn't quite understand how to react. It was clearly shocking, and I just froze as my brain struggled to process what was going on. Later that afternoon, I looked him up on Google and found his channel. He wrote his last poetry 2 weeks ago, narrated it with photographs of his house and garden, entitled it "going home". As I listened to his voice, that's when the feeling hit. Nothing could stop my tears for a good 20 minutes. 

He was a quiet man who kept to himself. Never talked more than necessary. His voice was soft and he spoke slowly. But when he read poetry on stage, he was a completely different person. His voice loud, saying each word as if it’s the soundtrack of a battle he’s fighting. His passion has always been literature (sastra). I could say he lived up to his name, as he looked most alive when he talked about the power of words.

Covid Note

 We live in a time where we are constantly reaching outward. 

We reach out our hands as far out into the world as we can, trying to grip onto external sources that shine like gold and promise good times. Friends to see. Hands to shake. Bodies to hug. Laughter to share. Stories to tell. Our world seems so big when our hands can easily stretch so far, and our feet can go places. But when that ability was put on hold… We struggle.

I, have been struggling, with my world suddenly became so tiny, and suffocating. For the last few consecutive days, my world has been a 3x4 square room with the lights mostly off, making the room feel even smaller.

We've all had our moments of breakdown. Fortunately, none of us fell apart at the exact same time. So there's always one of us waiting to pull the other out. Until I got Covid last week. Husband caught the virus within 3 days of my isolation making this time more difficult. He had to isolate himself in another room, leaving my daughter alone. No one to help for a while. Just two helpless parents and one (alhamdulillah) healthy 5-year old girl, all just waiting until it gets better.

Sunday Senses

Seeing: green paddy fields as far as my eyes could see and three mountains walling this city. It just rained. The air has been freezing. Even the oil in my kitchen turned to white! But what I see now… Man, it’s really something.

Drinking: a cup of saffron tea.

Feeling: everything. Honestly, I’m losing words to explain how I feel. Sometimes it gets overwhelming but I know it’s just my body (hormones) trying to trick my mind.

Missing: a long heartfelt talk with a good friend who lives worlds away. Distance is the funniest thing, don’t you think? Someone could feel like they’re a million miles away while they’re standing right next to you, yet you could feel the warm skin of someone you never even see in person.

Loving: lately I and my daughter are into anatomy. I try my best to teach her practical knowledge and skills in hope to spark her curiosity. She’s not that interested in reading yet, but loves math and how the body and brain works. Sounds so serious, doesn’t it? In reality, it’s just mostly role play.