There is no denial that my mum is a superstar, both morally and motherly. She is logical, straight forward, and kind. Though, it does not change the fact that I wish we lived apart (same city still preferably). The more we live together the more reluctant I become to do daily chores, such as doing the dishes in the morning, cooking when parents are out, or taking responsibilities for my own decisions in general. All of those skills that I have gradually gained after many years of resistence are ever so slowly fading since my parents have moved in.
I used to clean up after myself as almost instantly like reflex. It was as if I lived by those rules:
- If I don’t act, it will never be done.
- If I don’t have time now, why would l have time later?
- If I don’t take responsibility for my consequences, then no one will.
It effected beyond my household chores. It was not just about doing the dishes. It was the fact that if I don’t look after of myself, no one will. And I miss that feeling.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Thursday, January 5, 2012
The strength it takes to share
It is like when you have guests entering the house. You throw out crap; you straighten the house as if you are putting on a show (not that you should). In the process, we hide the reality of living. Not because household disposal does not exist outside your house. But sometimes those bodily organs and internal system cords are just too raw for the naked eye.
Oh, it is like opening a wound, or asking someone about an ex. The consequences go beyond pain. When someone digs through you, deprivation is an understatement. Those weaknesses all exposed to daylight as if your property right has been transferred. [Deep breath… deep breath…]
It comes down to: who do we trust? Who do we invite to behind the curtains?
And what about all these times when you have trusted, but then withdrew?
In the last few years, I have taken several steps back and became increasingly selective with who I opens doors to. All the heartbreaks, friendship fallouts, and family circumstances have contributed to this. Is there any ways of undoing? Or do I accept myself as a product of the society?
Oh, it is like opening a wound, or asking someone about an ex. The consequences go beyond pain. When someone digs through you, deprivation is an understatement. Those weaknesses all exposed to daylight as if your property right has been transferred. [Deep breath… deep breath…]
It comes down to: who do we trust? Who do we invite to behind the curtains?
And what about all these times when you have trusted, but then withdrew?
In the last few years, I have taken several steps back and became increasingly selective with who I opens doors to. All the heartbreaks, friendship fallouts, and family circumstances have contributed to this. Is there any ways of undoing? Or do I accept myself as a product of the society?
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