Where Are My Friends?

I have been feeling lonely these past few months. Still feeling the emptiness, ever since my mom passed away I think. 

Then I remember that my mom began to deteriorate in terms of health, memory with dementia like symptoms after my uncle passed away.  Although depression being the cause of dementia is unproven, but mom was extremely sad; not having anyone to talk to, to ask for advice, to listen to and complain to about life and her rants about her children and husband, her aging health and more.  The occasional once every few months telephone calls from her living sisters all over the world in Singapore, Canada and the US, did not ease her loneliness.  My uncle was the only one left of her siblings in Malaysia.  The one whom she could call any day, everyday just to have someone listen to her, and vice versa.  What with my dad not being much of an understanding person when it came to women and mom issues that were dismissed as being insignificant and petty.  

I am so grateful my husband will let me have my occasional rants and emotional raves about my dissatisfaction about family and life, and my perceptions of the world's wrongs and how it should be; the times when I couldn't get through to my son why he shouldn't come home late at night, or worrying about how I was going to save enough money to pay the next semester's college tuition fees coming due, or why my hot flashes keep me from sleeping at night, my husband, the only person patiently listening to my solutions on how I am going to help the elderly live the end of their days beautifully and dignified.  I say he is patient, because when I push for ideas from him, he is unable to accommodate me, thus further frustrating me and my desire to put forth my thoughts out into the world.

This year has had more challenges than usual.  It must be this that is making me feel lonely.  Or maybe, restless is more like it.  I had decided to close my cafe businesses a few months after the Covid-19 pandemic was announced and Malaysia implemented the Movement Control Order with people not allowed to go out and about.  Not going to work at the cafe; not being able to meet with workers and customers and experiencing human interaction did effect me, though not as much as the activity of being out and about.  As I do not usually have that many other interactions or meets with anyone, except the yearly meet with my bestie that lasts until the wee hours of the morning, sometimes overnight even, and at least the one time yearly dinner date with my lawyer friend usually on my birthday, until he passed a couple of years ago.  This year, I had been fortunate to be able to meet my bestie before the Covid-19 movement restrictions were enforced still in effect until this day.  This interaction should not be a significant miss, yet I am craving some sort of interaction and the urge to tell someone of what I am going through.

I question myself now about the fact that I do not have close friends.  Acquaintances I have plenty.  Friends, who are more than acquaintances also enough, I feel.  Best friend or bestie? The one is fine.  But close friends? The ones that are valuable buddies.  The ones you reach out to when the going gets rough, for help or support and the ones you share secrets with.  These friends, come to think of it, I do not have.

Four Core Types of Friends.

Based on the definition of "close friend", I would need to trust that someone.  Who would I trust, when it came to friends?  None.  Besides my bestie?  She is in the category of having the privilege of not having to talk or communicate with me for months on end and we will still connect without reserve whenever we are able to meet.  

So, do I need a close friend or a group of close friends?  Emma Pattee writing for the New York Times says that I do, and that close friendships are necessary for optimal health and well being.

Uh oh! Am I in trouble?  I certainly do not want to end up lonely, continuously complaining, bitter and negative about life, whilst desperately and deliriously trying to tell someone about it so that I can be sane.  What am I to do?  Even at this moment that I want to talk to someone about what I am going through in my business, life and future plans, I do not relish the social requirements of entertaining friends.

Just recently I was eating breakfast at my favorite French cafe known for its pastries and breakfast menu that I like to treat myself with on occasion.  I was thoroughly enjoying my fresh pastry and coffee whilst listening in to a group of ladies at the next table, I presume to be close friends, as they exchanged information and compliments about each other's lives and accomplishments; information on a husband's promotion, a child being accepted to a prestigious overseas college, a shopping experience, and even comparing notes on the status of their orchids.  I did the only thing comfortable to me, that is, continue to enjoy my breakfast, taking my own time, savoring every bite of the caramelized apple and every sip of the dark roast coffee, grateful to be able to be able to be comfortable with my own company.

Rather than succumb to the social norms that require me to have close friends, I am deciding that close friends would find me when the time calls for it.  I presume that my "friend" will come along as I meet new people in the course of my dealings and journey building my business and legacy.  But just to be sure that being a social outcast is not detrimental to me, I look for more resources and affirm my INTJ Personality Type Woman and find out more and bring to light why my being the rarest personality type for a woman makes me feel different, even to the extent of being weird even. Yet for some reason I am comfortable with that.  Now I know it is expected of someone like me.  No longer need I feel that I have to justify my different social preferences then.

24 Signs That You're An INTJ Personality Type

8 Style of Genius Free Personality Test

So now, getting back to me having to rant to someone besides the endless talking to myself and my husband, the only other solution is to write, of which I am doing right now.  For my future sanity and to resolve the need to get my thoughts and ideas out there, I have also decided that for this New Year 2021, I am going to re-start playing the piano, as soon as I can purchase one, being another goal on my list.  And start oil painting.

Though not quite giving up on making friends.  Here are the criteria that was put forth by the experts. 

The Female INTJ's Guide to Finding Friends Who Get You.

What INTJs Need From Their Friends

And so, I believe that I have concluded and resolved my initial dilemma with this writing exercise which required me to think and rethink, research, read and reread, before being fully satisfied with what I am about to share with anyone who is willing to read this.  As far as friendship goes, the value of it if you have it is indeed priceless and not to be taken lightly.  Especially if you have friends in the "close friends" category.  Almost everyone needs to talk and share secrets with someone they can trust, someone who can understand, empathize without judgement, doesn't blame or criticize you and let you be yourself.  Of course, a close friend will also tell you to your face and be honest to goodness.  But if ever your decide that you want to go your own way, that close friend will be there to listen and sympathize when your decision does go awry.  In terms of optimal health and well being, it is important to experience positive mental and physical reactions for our body, mind and soul, whether it be by having many or a few friends, or not.  I think I can get away without having the close friends as being the factor for optimal health and well being.  I just have to be comfortable with myself and not stress about doing the norm and go searching for it.  For anything good to come to you, you have to be grateful for what you have in the first place.  So, I am grateful that the Universe has given me a husband who so far can replace the need for another close friend, besides myself, that is. 

I believe that as long as we are fulfilled and at peace with ourselves we will live a long, happy and beautiful life.  That's what I am all about; #MakingLifeBeautiful and having an #ExceptionalLifeMindset.

My Friends Throughout The Years

School friends, classmates in Primary School.  

Most people make friends in school starting with their classmates. Usually the journey of friendship is a long one when they carry the friendship throughout the adolescence years.  A common interest in activities, sharing of emotions and feelings strengthening an evolving friendship occurs when friends support each other as they face the challenges of growing up, any family dilemmas, and personal growth. This was the longest time I was with my friends at the Methodist Girls' Primary School in Ipoh. Four years from Standard Two until Standard Six, and then continuing with some of them until Secondary Form One until my family had to move to another state with my dad, as he was working as an Agricultural Officer having to constantly take assignments and positions at different locations during my school years.

One of the closer friends during my Secondary school years. I spent only 2 years at that school, Bukit Kuda in Klang.  I have not met her since the day I left.  That was in 1980.

Dorm mates during teacher training in a school in Taiping, when I came back to Malaysia during Summer break for teaching internship whilst studying for my bachelor's degree in the United States.  Somehow we clicked then.

In University, the few whom I enjoyed the company of...

Although I am no longer in touch with anyone here, the value of the friendships in those moments were indeed a treasure even if they are now fond memories...

Dragonflies In My Garden

The reason for living the life we live.

I had never thought that my mom would be one of the reasons for me living life the way I live it now.

We often take our moms for granted.  She is there for us throughout our lives.  I admit that my relationship with my mom is less than perfect.  We did not have the typical mother-daughter, my best friend type of relationship, of which I was always envious of when I saw how other girls would go out shopping with their mothers, pick out dresses, talk about boyfriends and learn to cook.  All the intimate things that girls needed guidance from their mothers on how to be a girl, I didn't get from my mom.  I was left to figure it out for myself, which could be the reason I didn't do all the girly things; wear make-up, dress for a man's approval, do the damsel in distress act or bat my eyelids to attract sexual attention.  Instead, I grew up preferring to wear jeans, men's t-shirts, and even to the extent of not walking the way a girl should, with quick long strides and my steps haphazard and unladylike.

What I do remember is my mom teaching me to not take into consideration anything to do with race identity during my dilemma in school asking me to choose between being a Malay or a Chinese due to certain behaviors I was expected to have in order to have me associate with either one.

I also remember the patience and kindness my mom gave me when I ran to her coming back home from school having my first period.  She showed me how to run the string through the loops and around my waist the first time I wore a sanitary pad.

I remember her singing her Chinese songs and Paul Anka favorites when she was alone cooking in the kitchen.  I learnt the words to "Diana", "Puppy Love", "Dance on Little Girl" when I found her notebook for the lyrics when I was 13 years old.  Which is also the reason, I bought the CD for the collections of Paul Anka's songs when nostalgia hit me during my pre-menopuase stage when I was yearning for youngness in my life.

She complained of non-stop perspiration that would drench her clothes and sweat that would trickle down her body during her period of menopause, which I definitely inherited from her.

And I remember the time she was cutting up cloth to sew and the way she would scrunch her face and mouth upon each cut of the scissors into the fabric.  When she saw me looking and realized what she was doing she burst out laughing, which made me burst out laughing, and we couldn't stop laughing as the laugh-attack came upon us until tears came out of our eyes.

My mom felt that life was hard on her.  Her parents came from China and settled in Sitiawan, Perak.  My grandfather built the wooden house with the dirt floor and strove to make a living doing many odd jobs, which is why he is a true jack of all trades; fixing anything, wood working, farming and rubber tapping. A family of 3 boys (the eldest boy passed away early) and 5 girls, my mom was the 3rd daughter and therefore, was called, "Sa Ee" or third aunty by my cousins.  She was fragile and was always sick and therefore could not finish Form Three of her secondary schooling.  But in Form Three, it was when she met my dad and thus effecting another story to be told at another time.

Her decision to not continue schooling and instead enter teachers' training college was what made her into a teacher and her lifetime profession.  As was her lifetime dedication to bringing me and my brother up and moving from one location after another, following my dad's work as a government agricultural officer being stationed from one facility to another.  We stayed in the government quarters in Sik, Kedah when I was born, then after my brother.  Money was tight, barely enough to survive and when my dad was offered a scholarship to do a bachelor's degree at the age of 32, she persuaded for him to go to Canada without her and us two children; me at 4 years and my brother at 3 years, where she moved into my grandparents house to be able to continue teaching and raising us.

A year later, she decided to travel all the way to Canada with us to join my dad, she braved travelling alone with two young children.  Life wasn't easy either in a foreign country, and whilst my dad had the scholarship to study, my mom worked at factory jobs sewing buttons and such to support our living and enabling us to go to school. We were the first latch key kids.  After school, I would let myself and my brother into the house from the basement door entrance and entertain ourselves until my dad came home from the university.  At times, we would have a baby sitter, Malaysian friends of my dad, also from university to look in or stay with us during their breaks in class.  There was Uncle Nik and Uncle Hassan.  I especially liked Uncle Hassan because he was easily coerced into bringing us to the nearby candy store to buy liquorice.  There was also Uncle Nazri, who dated Aunty Louisa and we got to spend time in their apartment when we were sent there for them to take care of us when my parents couldn't be home.

To save money, my mom would plant vegetables behind the house.  I remember my first taste of sweet green beans straight off the plant and red rhubarb.  We ate simply, homecooked meals with the occasional luxury of pizza, homemade from "Chef Boyardee", although after the pizza was cooked, mine had the tomato sauce and cheese toppings scraped off because I was allergic to something in it that made my mouth itch and swell up.  My childhood memory of eats in Canada consisted of "Oscar Mayer" hotdogs and "Kraft" singles and once in a while treats of "Dairy Queen" ice cream cones served in the grey cardboard tray in the car when we went out for family car rides.

My mom being dedicated to dad and us, was alone.  She had the few Malaysian friends; a couple of families like Aunty Jun's family and Aunty Diana's family where we would get together during special occasions.  When we came back to Malaysia, she went back to teaching; moving from one school to another along with us to be together with my dad as he was stationed from one agricultural facility to another.  We stayed in large, haunted government houses as well as a few rentals.  It was only when I was in Form 5 and my brother in boarding school that my dad managed to buy a house in Kajang and a year later, I left to study in the US.  My mom's circle of influence were her few teacher friends and she was close to my uncle, Suey Ku, her youngest brother living in Kuala Lumpur and her eldest sister, Tuah Ee, living in Ipoh.

As time went by, my mom retired and soon lost track of her school colleagues.  Tuah Ee and husband moved to Australia to stay with their children.  Fourth Aunty had passed away when I was in Primary school.  Her other brother, Tuah Ku, was in Singapore, whilst Fifth Aunty moved to Canada and later also Second Aunty as well.

Depression and dementia took over my mom when Suey Ku passed away.  She lost her appetite to eat, lost a lot of weight and due to falling many times, could no longer walk.  Mom came to live with me the last three years of her life.  She passed away peacefully on July 4th, 2020.

I now come home from work and go into her room and see the empty bed, nice and clean with its sheets pulled tight by her caregiver, Mary Ann.  Mary Ann is unable to sleep in the room at the moment, waking up every two hours, seeing the empty bed beside hers in the quiet of the night, instead of changing mom's diapers or getting her something to eat and drink, or even just talking with her through the night to calm her down and assure her that her concerned dreams are just her thoughts and that she does not have to worry about the household chores or pay the bills or write the school reports anymore.  Assuring mom that she is with her family in the house, not alone even when we are out or at night or when everyone goes to bed, Mary Ann stays by her side.

I go to buy groceries and stop myself from automatically reaching for the organic chicken and the other grocery items that make up a balanced meal for her rice porridge and soup.  I still push my cart into the isle for the diapers and her vitaminized milk formula.  I realize that my life and whole routine has revolved around the needs for my mom; buying her food, her vitamins, her diapers,... dinner time talks and watching reruns of "I Love Lucy" on U-Tube,... consoling her during times of extreme dementia and non-stop unintelligible ramblings through the night,... watching her sleep during the day, after exhausting herself out throughout the night and smelling her soap and fresh powdered scent and stroking her damp grey hair in the afternoons after her bath.

Mom was my reason for living; the reason for me to earn an income to be able to pay Mary Ann to take care of her 24 hours a day.  How my daily routine has been scheduled and what I do and where I go, have all revolved around her.  Now, that is gone...  I have to find another reason for living.  A new chapter to open, after the closing of this one.  Many lessons I have learnt from her.  Lessons to bring forward for the future and the rest of my life's journey I have yet to experience.

Today is July 7th, 2020.  Dragonflies are in my garden.  I look out the window and see so many of them flying across the window, flitting back and forth, into the trees outside.  Said to be a welcome sign, representing good luck, abundance, harmony and happiness.  Symbolizing a maturity to accept change in life, a change in perspective and a shift towards self realization.  A symbol of a new me perhaps and a reminder to live life to the fullest.

I miss you, mom...

In Loving Memory

13 January,1938 - 4 July, 2020

Hong Ai Mooi @ Hong Aye Mooi @ Norlizah binti Abdullah

Overcoming The Sabotage From My Fear Mindset

I was waiting for a call from a potential partner for a new food & beverage outlet which I had just started setting up at his hotel.  The appointment was set for 11:30am Kuala Lumpur time, according to his Whatsapp message.  As usual, I would be nervous with thoughts of how the discussion would go wrong and that Kevin would not agree to my proposal and would come to a conclusion to stop the partnership with me.  11:30 am loomed near and I could not stop my stomach from churning and making me nauseous even after I finish my innercise in my Winning the Game of Fear program from Neurogym.  It wasn't a good sign, I thought, because this would mean that I still had a long way to go to reprogram my mindset of always playing out thoughts of how I would fail rather than how I would succeed. 

I kept telling myself that everything would be all right and somehow I would be able to negotiate a solution that would enable me to continue the operation of the restaurant, after having opened just 11 days before the Movement Control Order or MCO was put into place by the Malaysian government due to the Covid-19 pandemic which had just hit the country.  It would be 2 1/2 months now that the restaurant although 80% almost completed in renovation, is now empty and idle, having to let go the newly appointed workers at the end of March. 

The restaurant, being situated at the mezzanine floor of the hotel, with customers having to enter its lobby and up the stairs passing the newly painted Sang Kancil and the Malaysian flora and fauna artwork in order to access the restaurant made the restaurant almost unknown to the public as the hotel itself was not allowed to operate.  We had planned a launch where the residents of the many apartment buildings neighboring the hotel would be provided free food and introduced to our new restaurant only to have the plans put on hold due to the announcement of the lockdown three days prior to the launch date.

My plans was to have an income stream from the sales in order to fully complete the renovations and the cash flow to finance the operating expenses.  Instead I was left having to use my leftover funds to compensate the workers before they left and bear the cost of keeping my other cafe of three years open to cater to take-aways and deliveries from what was left of the customers that remained in the building that provided the bulk of patrons to this cafe, Little Cottage Cafe.

As the MCO became strict and foreign workers were randomly arrested without questioning, the majority of my boys, my workers, foreign, were afraid to venture out of their residences to come to work.  I was left with my manager, my son-in-law (living with me) and a local part-time employee to operate and service the cafe.  Suppliers could not deliver my raw materials, and buying them waiting in long lines at the local supermarket proved to be difficult and time consuming especially more so when the 1 person 1 car rule was enforced.  I ended up having to drive, find parking, wait in line, shop and carry the groceries and delivering to the cafe alone without the usual helping hand from my husband or from any possibility of help from the remaining workers that remained even.

Sales for the next 2 months dropped to less than 10% of the usual sales, not enough to cover costs, let along rent or wages.  I am fortunate that those remaining have agreed to accept deferment of their wages.  I still felt a sense of hopelessness, yet kept diligent in showing up at the cafe every morning, telling myself that I had to set an example, and a positive front to keep everyone's spirits and hopes up.  I was not willing to lose the ones closest to me.  I knew I needed them and since they were willing to give me their temporary sacrifice, I had to ensure that I made it seem worth while for them and for me in the coming months.  Keeping the cafe open, whilst not being able to start operating of the new restaurant was a way of providing a sense of worth to everyone involved.  The few customers whom we provided meals for were appreciative of our service, as it was difficult for them to venture out elsewhere.  We made new friends, and built a small community within the vicinity of the cafe and the residences in the building.  We barely made RM100 a day, sometimes just RM20, but we kept showing up.  Our landlord still charged us the usual rent for the months we barely reached 10% of our usual sales.

The current 2 week phase of the MCO is still to last until this 9th of June.  We are now allowed to accept dine-ins by regulating customers by taking and recording their temperatures, sanitizing their hands and getting them to record their names and contact number as a safety precaution in case any case of Covid-19 were to appear in our establishment.  It is still another week until the 9th of June, in which the MCO may either be lifted or extended. 

Our sales have increased to RM300 a day as people brave themselves to venture out to eat at our cafe.  Everyday, we share the sales figure and celebrate in our hearts that there is an increase in sales.  We are excited when customers order the higher priced items on the menu instead of the RM10 rice meals which we came up with especially during the MCO in order to appeal to the reduced wages that almost everyone had to go through during this time.  Orders for our RM15 chicken rice and our RM12 banana pancakes had my son-in-law and myself climbing over each other to cook the meal for the customer in as quick a time as possible.  I would watch as each customer took a bite and ate, apprehensively holding my breath to see any indication as to how the food tasted.  It was like the time I first opened a breakfast nook in 2008.  I would keep in mind what each customer liked and take into account their preferences, even until this day. 

Reopening our doors after 2 1/2 months is just like opening for the first day of a new business.  "How many customers will I get today?  Will they come back?  What about tomorrow?  Will there by more customers?"  These are my hopeful thoughts, alongside my other thoughts, "What if they don't come back?  What if the MCO gets extended?"  Thoughts that will doom me with questions of "What if I fail?" instead of hopeful and positive questions of "What if I succeed?".  I really do need to innercise more and program my mind to think of future success rather than the possibility of failure when I have yet to fail.

And so when I receive the call from Kevin, I tell myself to keep an open mind and to understand where he is coming from.  Everyone, especially in their own business venture is facing financial uncertainty and trying to find the best way to recover from their losses.  I do not assume that Kevin is out to destroy me as he is proposing a way to help his business.  I have to take control of my decisions based on his proposal to do what is right for my business.  It is merely coming up with a strategy based on the given circumstances that is put in front of me.  So when ask myself, "What if I succeed?", I have programmed my brain to think of ways for myself to succeed and I proceed to take the necessary actions so that I may benefit from the proposal and suggestions, even if those suggestions have given me a due date to decide on whether I continue with the operation of the new restaurant based on my lack of financial resources.  If I think I will fail, I will indeed fail.  But I will not fail because I have come up with a plan for my success.  It may not be the original plan, but that is what success is all about.  It is not sticking to the plan, but instead to make up a new plan.  I guess I am winning the game of fear after all.

I will tell you more on that when the plans have been put into action.

The New Outlet, The Hive Restaurant

My Little Cottage Cafe

Embracing Who I Am, At Last

This year I'm 56 years old. Like most people, I still am working on finding my life purpose.  Although how many people out there at my age can even say that they have a life purpose, or even thought that they needed one?

If I were to compare where I was according to Mark Manson's, The Four Stages of Life, I would put myself as just only moving on towards the 3rd stage, the stage where it is considered the great consolidation of one's life, as he puts it.

I was stuck in the 1st Stage for a very long time.  I was taught to always work towards getting approval and validation for whatever I was to do.  There were rules and regulations that had to be followed everywhere in my life.  Don't do anything that would make me stand out or be different. Always ask people what they expected from me before doing anything.  From being a good daughter, to being a good wife, to being a good mother, there were always expectations and performance evaluations either from the people surrounding me or from me, myself.  How a person is defined and expected to be, to act, to live up to a definition based on a particular gender, race or religion.  I was the worst judge of myself. I could never live up to my own expectations as I strived to be perfect in whatever I did.  It also didn't help when I had a spouse, a boss or a parent who kept reminding me of what I was supposed to be, how I was supposed to act, so that what I did was what other people; my family, my colleagues or my siblings wanted me to be, or to give the proper impression of who I was supposed to be in accordance with the performance expectations of those around me whilst conforming to societies norms and prejudices.

In trying to please everyone around me and conforming to what society expected of me, is when I learnt that I just couldn't.  I learnt that I couldn't please everyone around me, and I couldn't be a person that other people wanted me to be so that I would fit into their definition of what a wife, daughter or person was supposed to be in their defined world.  I failed.  I couldn't be a perfect mother, making sure I cooked all the food for my kids and husband to be served at the right time and yet be a perfect employee at work being present at all meetings and working late on an important project to be able to meet its deadline.  I couldn't be the perfect loving wife and not make my husband jealous and yet not be able to go out meet colleagues for late night discussions.  I couldn't be an exemplary student attending classes for a Masters degree after work and be a dedicated mother to breastfeed my son to sleep at night.  Trying to be perfect, made me imperfect.  I hated myself for it.  So, I rebelled.  I stopped doing it all.  And decided that I would decide myself what my own version of me would be.  I was 40 then.

Hah!  Easier said than done.

I stopped being in a marriage that was considered traditional with a person deemed to be appropriate for me to be the perfect wife to.  I stopped working as a teacher, a profession that was expected of me by my parents, even since I finished my Form five schooling, even though my national exam results indicated that I was capable of a more demanding career in science, math and technical fields.  It was assumed that as I was a girl, a teaching career would be the most appropriate for me to be able to maintain my duties as a wife yet make some amount of income to ensure that my welfare was protected just in case my husband was not the responsible husband as expected.  And so with all that, I also ended up stopping to be the perfect daughter as well since I was no longer doing the things that was expected of me; that is, getting a stable income, yet not to exceed the main provider of the family, the husband; the breadwinner, decision maker and leader of the family.  My dad had actually accused me of of being the reason he had taken up smoking again after quitting 5 years back, saying that my non conforming to his expectations by getting a divorce was putting the gun to the head.

From young, we are brainwashed to go through life in default mode. Just like the American saying of getting that perfect version of life by getting that house with a white picket fence, two kids and a dog.  Brings to my mind, the movie, The Truman Show.  We tend to live our lives as a fallacy based on what has been defined for us by those who have something to gain from it; be it monetary or for power and control.  Plus, it is easier to conform than to figure out what each of us have unique about ourselves.  Less thinking.  Just do what is expected of us.  Easy.  Unfortunately, not for me.

Before I quit my job, I actually dreamt of myself jumping off the edge of a cliff into the unknown.  I couldn't see the cliff bottom through the fog and mist on my way down.  I didn't fall haphazardly, but instead it felt that I could have grown wings, though I didn't.  But I woke up before I reached the bottom though.  And after that only I understood through readings the meaning of "building your wings as you fall..." and "burning your bridges..."

Like I said, easier said than done.  I had no idea what is was I was suppose to be or to do.  I just knew that I couldn't take it any longer pretending to be what I was not to be.  But, after having the large amount of my life being under the influence of living under other peoples expectations, I didn't learn how to figure out my own life.  I have been learning since.  It has been 16 years of learning and I have yet to see the end of it.  I haven't yet consolidated everything about myself.  I don't think I can find the fine line between Mark Manson's the Stage 2 process of self discovery and the Stage 3 of committing to the consolidation of the discoveries of myself just yet.

I have discovered my unique self in terms of embracing my being different in all aspects of me; my beliefs, my philosophies, my needs, my expectations of myself and more.  In short, I really don't want to be compared to anyone except myself.  It has made me a more private person.  At the same time a braver person.  I am still putting effort to stop myself from running in place or living in a rut by purposely trying out new things and activities no matter how hard it feels whilst still working on conquering my fears of the unknown and negative self talk.  Realizing I had potential and being able to bring it out in me was and still is a difficult thing for me to do.  Insecurities, fear and mental blocks prevent me from my self discovery.  The discovery of meditation and John Assaraf's Innercise of which I have been using to work on myself these past 5 years has been of great help.  I now have the courage to write about myself.  I started my own business in 2011 and am now able to see the bigger picture and accept the experiences in the adventures of being an entrepreneur when in the beginning it was purely a desperate attempt to make a decent living.  There is a difference on how we perceive our business venture, whether it is to make a living or to gain experience as put by Sir Richard Branson on Why We Need to Add Adventure to Our Business.

"I have always looked on my businesses not just as money-making machines, but as adventures that can, I hope, make people better off."

~ Sir Richard Branson

I now consider my life as a journey with hopes to have the courage to experience its adventures and accept the unknowns as gifts from the Universe.  I accept that I am a Late Entrepreneur.  Better late than never working on leaving my legacy.  That's my purpose in life.

Jim Rohn, 5 Undeniable Reasons to Leave a Legacy


Mark Manson, 7 Strange Questions That Help You Find Your Life Purpose

Accepting the Challenges

A challenge is something new and difficult which requires great effort and determination.

~Collins Dictionary

Life itself is a challenge.  I recently announced to my husband that I no longer will let myself fall into a rut.  I see too many examples of life being wasted due to being complacent.  I admit I am guilty of such as well.  It is too easy getting into a comfort zone and continue to do so with excuses and definitions to subscribe and justify ones actions of complacency, such as falling into habits and wanting life to be content and comfortable.  

I am not saying that I don't want my life to be content and comfortable.  Yet, let's define what it means to be content and comfortable.  Will money provide contentment and comfort in a person's life?  How about having a happy family?  Having a good life partner?  Being healthy?  In order for a family to be happy, its members would need to be able to provide for each other.  Same goes for having a life partner who will be at your side for better or for worse.  I've known many relationships having failed due to the worse.  And the key to being healthy is being able to have good quality and nutritious food, which costs money doesn't it?  

Except for the few born with a silver spoon, everyone else still has to find a way to make enough money to be content and comfortable.  This will undoubtedly require some, if not tremendous amount of challenges.  So we tell ourselves that we are happy and contented without wealth in order to make ourselves feel better and avoid having to get off our asses and face the challenges that will come when we go out there to make more money.

Even if it wasn't about money, so we tell ourselves, we, as human beings tend to get bored when everyday is the same.  I am unable to comprehend those who go through life day to day the same; the same job, the same routine, especially those who make a monthly wage living.  I call it a life of complacency.  Every month at the same time of the month you get a salary.  Then you spend it on bills and monthly payments for the car, the house, fees, and such and with the leftover, after putting away some for savings, spend that on entertainment; movies, travel, eating out, buying clothes, and such.  And this goes on day to day, week to week, month to month, year to year until the end of life.  For those who did put away some in savings, it usually ends up being used for your children's college education, their wedding and finally on old age medication and pain relief until the day we die, some leaving some funds for our beneficiaries to be lucky enough to inherit and continue living the same cycle of life.

We have been brainwashed with the Lego movie song that "Everything is Awesome!" with this everyday cycle of life repeating itself over and over again kinda lifestyle.  That the less challenges we face, means that our life is better.  We use the resources of the earth with new clothes, furniture, toys, cars and food wastage because we feel that they are part and parcel of the necessity of living.  And yes, we have to have money to do so.  

But, do we see that we are just living a life of existence?  We are just existing in this life.  Eat.  Sleep.  Defecate.  Copulate.  Buy things.  Find entertainment.  Repeat.

In this complacent lifestyle, we are users.  We use up the resources of the earth.  We create waste.  And then we leave this earth.  We make ourselves feel that we have made a contribution by telling ourselves that as long as we do not do anything bad to others and remember our Creator we have contributed for the greater good.  Easy, isn't it?  Hardly any challenges in order to achieve all of that.  Just have to find a decent job of course.  And keep it for a significant number of years in order to be able to save a significant amount of funds to sustain the length of our old age and to support whatever ailments we have until we have to leave.  That is, if our savings last until that day.  If not, then to hope that our children or grandchildren have been brought up such that they will take responsibility for taking care of us until then.

Nope.  Not for me.  Because I think that human beings were created special.  Unlike the rest of living things who were meant to follow a set of rules in the cycle of nature, we are meant for greater things.  Human beings were given intelligence to pursue a purpose in life; How to solve problems for a better world.  To use our minds to realize the rationality of all of us as equals and to work together not being compelled by made up norms meant to divide us due to our differences in race, culture, nationality or religion.  And it is these norms that have been put forth by those, to put us into a lifestyle of complacency so that we are reduced to become creatures of habit living a predictable lifestyle rather than urging us to get out of our rut and challenge ourselves to constantly change, upgrade, evolve and accept life and the rough patches we need to go through to become a continued best and new version of ourselves everyday, every hour, every minute.  

They say fear is good for you.  I have been fearful of fear since I knew about fear.  I feared my first day of school in a foreign country.  I feared making friends because they were strangers first.  I feared going to each of the seven new schools I had to go to each time my family moved to a new place.  I feared my teachers because I was different and my inquisitiveness was not accepted as a norm in the learning process.  I feared telling my parents what I was going through at school because I didn't want to bother them as they were too busy to ask.  In short, I feared anything new because it would not be the norm and most likely not accepted by general opinion.  I feared being different.  Therefore, I feared being me.  By avoiding fear, I gave in to the need to fit in, to be part of the group, to conform to what others think and do.

No more. I just can't. I have been failing at being normal. Due to my following what others deem for me to be the appropriate actions, accepted appearance, lifestyle and even career causing me to have a complacent lifestyle which led to a mundane and predictable existence, I can no longer accept that.  I often question myself if I am too late.  Another consequence of my fears it seems.  Only realizing that I had a choice to live my life to my potential at the late age of 40 after my kids left for college and my relationship with my spouse was on shaky ground due to inadequate financial earnings leaving me to contemplate the need for more independent pursuits and the challenges it brings as well as my having to learn how to conquer the concept of fear in all of its forms.  

By doing so, I have had to face challenges that forced me to face my fears, and learn how to use these fears as my fuel to overcome these challenges. The challenges will keep on coming.  I keep on learning.  I am no longer complacent in my life.  It is full of ups and downs.  And I am grateful that due to this I have lost the friends who want to keep me in the norm, but I have gained new ones who continue to support me and strengthened my relationship with my spouse, for they believe in me in good times and in hard times.  My contribution to life may be small for now.  I am still finding my purpose.  But everyday is different and life is full of surprises.  

No wonder they call this a journey.  I have been on it since.  

I call them #auntyfaizahlifeadventures.

My Malay Chinese Dilemma in School

After coming home from a four year stay in Canada, I continued schooling in my Malaysia. It was a change indeed from the more liberal education system overseas where a person's individualism is cultivated to grow positively and independently, rather than a system more towards conformation towards a set of standards and majority conceptions.

There are three major examinations in the education system in Malaysia; the primary national exam, the lower secondary national exam and the upper secondary national exam.

From the beginning of my schooling in Malaysia, I had always been able to achieve results that would put me in the best class of any school I was in.  From Standard Two, my classmates included my cousin, from my mother's Chinese side of the family.  We were always in the best class, due to our exam results. Although we were not as close as sisters were, we were together learning the same things, with the same teachers, with the same classmates, doing the same homework.  But we were not in the same circle of friends.  I was closer with my Malay friends and she with her Chinese friends.  The reason why, would require in-depth study from an expert as to why we chose to be with persons of similar race.  But in my case, the expert would have to figure out why I was with the Malay students and not the Chinese, as I was of both races.  Was it because I looked more Malay than I was Chinese?  Not because I was more fluent in the Malay language I presume, as I was English speaking.  Could it be because I wasn't fluent in the Chinese language?  I actually, was perfectly comfortable and capable to be in either race social group without so much as a thought as to its racial identity?  Or could it be that the Chinese students did not see me as their equal or as Chinese actually?

With the first exam, the primary national exam, my results warranted me to be in the same league as my cousin.  I, instead was offered a place in a boarding school exclusively for Malays.  I declined the offer as I wanted to study with everybody else and I wasn't particular about being "exclusive".  I, however was very much mistaken, as the concept of a mutually exclusive society, especially in education, was about to prevent me from being able to study alongside with everybody else as I wanted.

Because I had declined going to a boarding school, I was looking forward to meeting my friends again in the first year of secondary school.  Donning my new secondary school uniform which was turquoise in color compared to the dark blue one from primary school, I felt grown up and no longer under the "children" category.

As our names were being called, I saw one by one my classmates and my cousin being designated a class called 1S, with S being for Science.  My Malay friends however were designated to 1A with whomever's results fell accordingly from top to bottom 1B, 1C and so on.  Imagine my confusion when my name was not called out.  I, on the other hand was in neither 1S or 1A but was called aside and placed in the class 1P, (with P being for Perdagangan or Accounting) with strangers not previously from my school, but students whose results were at par with 1S students from other schools.  The only exception is that students in 1P were ALL Malays and they all boarded in a location nearby, except of course, for ME.

Once in the classroom for 1P, I immediately felt like I wanted to run out of the classroom as per my previous incident 5 years ago.  There was no explanation given as to why I was placed in a strange classroom with all Malays and when I found out that P was for Accounting, I was even more confused as to this alien subject matter which was unfamiliar to me.  Why was I deprived of Science and Pure Math?  I got A's in all my subjects except the Malay Language subject.  This alone should have been indicative of my educational aptitude, if at all examinations are indeed indicative of educational aptitude (Another topic worth of debate).  Therefore if my exams results were not indicative of my abilities for Math and Science, my Chinese heritage should have put this doubt to rest. Not to say that I am at least pro to the idea that race has anything to do with subject matter competency.  I just wanted to be with my classmates, and cousin.

I stuck it out for a day.  I don't remember what I did exactly, but I think I must have approached a teacher or someone.  It could be that I went and talked to the 1S form teacher, and they put me into 1A with my Malay friends.  Well, better than being with strangers, even though I had to take Home Science instead of Science and certainly not Accounting. (I don't know why, but until today, I simply do not like accounting.  Even having experienced it as subjects later in the coming other schools and my MBA courses.  I love Mathematics, which is my degree major, but not Accounting.)

And so my friendship with my Malay friends became close since it was the only friendship that endured the past five years.

It did not prevent me from having pangs of envy whenever I passed by my cousin and classmates at the science lab on the way to Home Science and I saw them looking into microscopes of thinly sliced onions, and them making jokes with the teacher about the human reproductive system and other intricate drawings of cells and science facts on the board.  Instead I had to distinguish between the uses of a kitchen towel versus a dish cloth and why a dish cloth is to be used to wipe dry a pot rather than a kitchen towel.  I got scolded very often for mistakes in the kitchen regarding basic skills like using the wrong utensils and not knowing how to fry my kuih kacang hijau (mung bean fritters) somehow with all the mung beans not adhering together as a solid fritter but scattered all over the oil.

My first year in secondary school, turned out to be as my first year in primary school, often picked on and scolded by a particular teacher, until my friends, coming to my defense, tells me to not volunteer too many questions in the learning process and to just accept whatever facts the teacher decides to provide us without question.

Over the following years, moving from one school to another, I had the opportunity to experience another three schools before I "escaped" to college, a term I like to use to indicate the freedom I later had to pursue my educational fields of interest, as compared to what was previously forced upon me because of societal assumptions regarding educational proficiency based on racial differences that had been accepted by my community.

For my Form Two education, I experienced a total Malay school environment when my family moved to Kepala Batas, a small township surrounded by acres of padi fields in the year 1978.  As you may have guessed, I had to take Accounts again with the only science subject being General Science along with General Math and English being my strong subject.

The next year, we moved to Klang, and even though I had applied for admission to the mission schools there, I was instead enrolled in a national girls school called Bukit Kuda.  Fortunately, it was here that I came to enjoy the adventures of experiencing the many activities of being a teenager as well as what school could actually offer me and what I could offer it.

My racial dilemma had actually almost ended here with only little dashes of incidents that did not stop me from bringing out my potential and the best of me.  I am fortunate for that and this school and its teachers; I tribute you and am grateful to you.  Forgive any discrepancies in my memory on your subject matter cause the person your model provided me was more than the subject matter you taught me.

Mrs Guna; History and teacher in charge of Prefects.  She believed in me, gave me the most eye opening pep talk, and was the brunt of my naughtiness that felt free to come out and be playful with her.  Your sense of humor and support of my potential was a resolve I wish my parents had of me.

Ms Vivian; Class teacher, English.  You let me tag along for Drama class so that I could be part of the experience even though I could not act.  You are my role model for refinement and perfectionism.

Ms Mary Peters; Chemistry.  You gave me the opportunity to enjoy a subject I was deprived of for so many years in school.  I still remember the chlorine gas incident.

Mrs Yap;  You taught me that "I am the candle in the night,..." as well as the ability to be a genius in Math, to enjoy Math, and set the stage for me to pursue an education in Math.

The last year of school in a mission school in Kajang was again a reminder of how things really were and how racial prejudices and assumptions were to influence the mindsets of the different races in my country, impacting any efforts, if any are in place at all, of the way to conceive a truly Malaysian identity and existence.

School is about enjoying sports and the outdoors. 

It creates teamwork, respect, honor and leadership skills.  

Acknowledgement is important not just for educational accomplishments, but also to motivate good life skills; kindness, fairness, compassion, love and respect for each other's differences and individuality.

Every human being has the right to reach his/her potential in any environment they wish.

The world needs to be a free and safe place for everyone regardless of where they were born, their race, culture, skin color or religion. We are all human beings on this earth.

#peace

#peopleofearth

#thehumanrace

Being Introduced to the Labels of Race

My mom is Chinese and my dad is Malay. I was born in Malaysia in 1964. Five years after that, my mom along with my younger brother and I took a flight to Canada to be with my dad who was on a government scholarship to finish a Bachelor's degree there. From 1969 until 1972, although life was somewhat mundane due to social restrictions and fear of the dangers of strangers in a foreign country, I did enjoy, however, my Kindergarten until Grade 2 schooling in Canada. I would say that the liberal education which I had received was a crucial factor as to who I am today and what fueled my continued inquisitiveness for any kind of knowledge through reading and experiences. The way the lessons were taught in school encouraged me to explore and discover in my learning process, much different to the rote like approach I then had to undergo when I returned home to Malaysia. That will be another story to tell. 

When I returned home to my country I was placed in the grade level called Standard Two in a school that was categorized as a mission school, the Methodist Girls' School. I was put in one of the best classes due to my fluency in English. My classmates were curious about this new girl, who looked Malay, yet was speaking English. Before I was even enrolled in school, my mom had drilled me in the Malay language; making me recite the numbers in Malay. She wrote the words on a piece of paper and I had to recite them out loud until I memorized them. I remembered crying as I tried to mouth the words, over and over again, in a language unknown to me wondering why I had to say the numbers in a different language.

On the first day of school, the Malay students crowded around me. They were my first friends. I remember Naziha and Mahfudzah. There were only about five Malay students in that class. This would be the case in all the classes which I attended for all the different schools that I went to throughout my schooling years as I moved from one school to another, following my father as he changed designation in his work as a government officer. Gathering around me, they asked me a question, "Are you Malay or Chinese?"

The class teacher asked me the same question, "Are you Malay or Chinese?" I kept quiet, not knowing what to answer. I was both and I didn't understand why she was asking me this question.

I went home that day and tearfully asked my mom that I was being asked if I was a Malay or Chinese. I felt that either answer would be a betrayal to one of my parents. My mom said, "Just say you are Malaysian". Armed with the answer, I went to school the next day.

Again, the class teacher asked, "Are you Malay or Chinese?". I answered, "Malaysian". She gave me an annoyed, couldn't be bothered look.

As the school day went by, teacher upon teacher came into the classroom for different subject lessons until this one teacher came in and starting speaking in Mandarin and started writing on the board in Chinese. My mom had taught me some Mandarin, but when the teacher came up to me and sternly asked me to get out the textbook which I didn't have, I was taken aback. As soon as she turned around to write on the board, I realized that all the Malay students were no longer in the classroom. Hoping she didn't see me, I ran out of the classroom, down the stairs and to the canteen where I heard students reciting familiar Arabic words that I don't know how and when they came to be familiar in my mind. But they were familiar and I had them in my memory. Curiously I approached the classroom and looked in and saw my Malay classmates inside along with many others.

The teacher looked up and saw me and beckoned me to come in. The class went quiet as I approached her desk. Everyone was looking at me, and when I reached her table, she asked me the question, "Are you Malay or Chinese?"  I answered determinedly, "Malaysian."  She asked me again, and once again I gave the same answer. She looked at me and softly told me to join the class and my friends immediately gave me space to sit with them on the bench which served as seating for this classroom by the canteen, located furthest from the other classrooms in the main school building.

Later then, I found out that the Malay students were separated to attend Agama (religious) class at the same time the non-Malay students had their Mandarin class. However, we were all together when it came to singing class, where I enthusiastically sang along with the words for all the songs, be it songs like Edelweiss or the occasional hymn.

That day, when I went home, I told my mom what happened at school. She was quiet for a while before she asked me, "Are you ashamed of me being Chinese?" which added more confusion to my young mind that day.

As I grew up and moved from one school to another, the stereotypes of being Chinese or Malay became more and more of a dilemma for me. One was that Malays would not be attending language classes and would undoubtedly attend Islamic religion classes instead. Also, because the best classes consist of the majority of Chinese and a few Malays, it was stereotyped that Chinese students were smarter. In every one of the three major national exams in the Malaysian education system; the primary school exam, the lower secondary school exam and the upper secondary school exam, I had always achieved results that warranted me to be in the best class. I was unawares that segregation would be in play for me from the beginning and another stereotype would be in effect; that Science and Additional Math subjects were not for Malay students.

More on this in my next post.

Methodist Girls' School, Ipoh

Not Being Confident About Myself As A Child

I was never a confident child. It didn't help that my first schooling experience was in another country with people who were so far different from my ethnicity, race or cultural background. I felt not only different, but also not as good as everybody else. On top of that, I was bullied at school. My parents taught me not do anything that would draw attention to myself and to keep to ourselves. Just be a good girl and follow the rules. To further intensify my feelings of low self-esteem, I was made to feel that I was never better than my younger brother; in terms of cuteness, intelligence and adorability. I was left to my own devices, day dreams and personal interpretations of myself. Added to that was to fear anything of the unknown; persons or situations perceived as strange, foreign and beyond my established comfort zone.

We stayed at a rented house, whilst my dad was undergoing his bachelor degree at the University of Guelph, Ontario, Canada. The neighbor's kids invited my brother and I to play in their basement. For a kid whose parents couldn't afford toys, imagine my awe when I saw that the basement was actually a whole playroom with a kitchen play set, a battery operated car that you could sit in and drive and every suburban middle class household equipment in the form of a toy that every suburban middle class household would own. It felt like if I got a job, this was what my house would have in it. As a kid, you can imagine how awesome it felt to be invited to come over and play. Unfortunately, my excitement was soon dampened when on the first day itself, the only day actually, my mom gave specific instructions to come home immediately when my neighbor's kids' dad came home from work. That was the only time I was allowed to play at my neighbor's house. It was also the beginnings of instilling fear in me of strange men.

The neighbor at the other side of the house wasn't as refined as the other neighbor I mentioned. This family was more "farmhouse". One of the guys showed me a tattoo with numbers on his arm. I even got a glimpse of his lacerated back. That was my one time experience meeting the neighbors on this side of the house. We were told to keep away from those neighbors.

At school I kept to myself. I didn't have any friends. I only remember that I was slow in Math and always had to stay in during recess to finish the work the teacher gave. (Could it be the beginnings of my Math teaching later in life?) Actually I didn't mind staying in and doing Math at all. I preferred not going out and having to socialize. It also was the reason that when I didn't have to stay in for Math, I spent most of my time at the reading section of the class (I especially enjoyed Dr Seuss books) rather than go out to play during recess.

My first day of school. Kindergarten.

I spent three years of schooling whilst living in Canada. I don't particularly remember and feeling like there was anything exciting about living in a foreign country. I felt like my life was always "in check". The good thing was that the more liberal education system gave me educational advantage in my early years, especially in the English Language and Mathematics, even though my social interactions and skills was largely inhibited and restraint. For children, it is the social skills which make for a happy childhood and healthy relationships, whilst building character and tenacity in life.

My fears and lack of confidence would soon be a major factor in my late discovery of what it is like to be free from my fears and decide that my life was actually more of an adventure once I realized that I didn't need to please anyone but myself and allowed myself to be my own version of ME and work on the creation of my individuality, still a work in progress.

It was very much later in life, with much dissatisfaction about my life, in my late forties that I started to discover more about myself and the potential of being true to myself.  In the words of Marissa Peers, "I am Enough!"

Our family kept to ourselves with our social circle limited to those from our own country, Malaysia.