When I have nothing, I write. About nothing. Words go through my mind like a train going nowhere. Chugging along wearily. No final destination. It is that hormonal time of the month again. The return of my period took my senses by surprise. I felt the pits, the sadness, the anxieties, the heaviness, all came flooding back to me washing me from head to toe with feelings I had disowned since I started my journey into motherhood, growing and feeding little humans.
Now I begin to feel human again, once more subject to the highs and the lows of everyday life. Whereas before, I went through the daily motions routinely because they were functional, just enough to maintain a household of three young children under 7 years of age, and a workaholic husband often too busy plotting the ascension of his career. By comparison, my career withered away like a dying tree whose branches were left to disease, slow decay and dilapidation. Our bodies work in such mysterious ways, silently governed by an invisible biological clock that drives our basic desires, our thoughts, our feelings and our physical bodily sensations. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Time to wake up!
At first, my words have nowhere to go. I dare not put them up on a blog, fearful of leaving my vulnerable self exposed to criticisms like a raw wound left open for ravens to pick when they are bored of active prey. My words do not argue, my writing has no particular style, no skill, and no stories to tell just yet. Here are the ramblings of a dishevelled mind. I write because I feel like I have to. I have to occupy this empty void. I like writing because I get to express my innermost dialogue, that critic that no one can hear, except me. I commit them to a page and then I saved it and forget about it, but that voice comes back haunting me. For example, I (or it) recently reminded me that I once threw away my collection of poems written in my mid-20s because they were too ‘revealing’ of my feelings.
For putting all my eggs in one basket, then breaking them and burning them on a whim. On hindsight, this is one of THE many regrets in my life — those poems written when I was coming down probably after some all-night rave — describing the narrowest spectrum of my life then. I rarely discuss my recreational party experiences of my mid-20s to anyone. They are confined to the dusty attic bound to be locked in a chest to be forgotten forever. But, I recall those days often, and fondly, on school runs, in the car, escaping to that secluded spot in my mind. A faraway place where I can shore up my anxieties and tell myself that I have lived because I have felt. They are a poignant reminder of a carefree time in my life with no children, no real responsibilities and no real worries. A time which I used indulgently to escape from the bitterness and trauma of my childhood.
“What is life but a series of escapades transitioning from one moment to another, from one session to the next, stage 1 to stage 4 cancer, from babies to adults, from the waiting room to the consultation office, from motherhood to widowhood, high to low, low to high, from life to death?”
I have a Medium account but no blog to show for. What would my first post be about? What do I have in my life to showcase to the world? What could I possibly write that anyone would be interested in?! Even though I have written a thesis, published a book, some boring academic papers, I have gotten more rejections than acceptances and more job rejections than job offers. I am writing a job application now, for which I will probably be rejected. I will then go through the familiar feelings of disappointment, rejection, anger, perhaps sadness and ultimately, acceptance and hope.
On the sour end of life, I can still swallow the bitter pill, wear my disappointment on my sleeve and look for the next silver lining after the next rainbow, and then the next. Meanwhile, this is my chance to commit to something while I wait… do I dare publish this? Then, to embody divine patience and await the right time for when this seed within me will blossom into the brightest rainbow coloured and most exotic Phoenix this side of the world will ever see.