When it Hurts the Most

 I am seeing a trend where I only show up here when my cup full of emotions is overflowing and there is not a soul on earth I am willing to verbally process with. 

What does that say about me? 

My inner circle is very small....or perhaps non-existent.

Self preservation has led me to be extremely cautious about who I "let in." Through the years, occasionally I have let my guard down and invited someone inside. Inevitably their actions and/or inactions, words and/or silence, blatant and/or intentional lack of consideration rips me apart. My heart actually, physically aches. This has been my entire life's theme. 

Yet, in the center of my rough & tough exterior is a big wad of mushy, very intense feelings. Every perceived offense, intentioned or absentminded, leads me to want to strengthen that exterior until it's impermeable. 

Do I realize that is not healthy? Of course. 

Does that change my knee-jerk desire to do it? No. 

Does that knowledge decrease the amount of pain I feel? Not one bit. 

However, self-awareness is important. This is the first step to "taking every thought captive to obey Christ." As I have been striving to 'think about what I'm thinking about,' I realize that, at times, my thoughts and feelings are taking me captive instead. I am too swift to react rather than to contemplate and respond. This is particularly evident when I am feeling a lot. 

Among my unregulated, knee-jerk reactions: 1) complete silence, 2) biting sarcasm, 3) distancing from the perceived offender, and 4) over analyzing. In addition to the previously mentioned actual, physical heart pain, I often end up with an intractable migraine + vomiting.

In writing this, it strikes me that people who don't know me might have the impression that I am a wildly reactive, feeler. No. That is not accurate. In fact, those folks are the bane of my existence. At the very least, they are a great puzzle to me. Perhaps that is among the reasons I have endeavored to avoid becoming one. 

Which came first? Repetitive emotional trauma or a distaste for dramatic reactions to things I consider petty? Only God knows. 

To be continued....

The First Mother's Day

(Translation: Happy Mother's Day) 

Yes. Where I live, today is Mother's Day.

I was driving with a friend to a government office to get my car licensed on May 14th this year - Mother's Day in the U.S..  I said, "Today is Mother's day where I'm from!" She told me in this country there is no Father's day, but since Moms are so special, there is a Mother's day; it's December 21. I told her, "So that just means I get to celebrate my Mom twice a year!" 

I had no idea that would be the last time I'd ever get to tell my Mom how much I cherished her on a day made just for Moms. 

I've read that all the "firsts" are tough. That proved true when I was at Changi airport again. When I went back to Benan. When I passed the "Welcome to Batam" sign. When I crossed Barelang bridge again. Went back to Grand Mall. When I zombie-walked through Thanksgiving. When I joined friends for a "Thanksmas" celebration. My heart is still not ready to "celebrate" anything. 

So, today is another first without her. Mother's day here. In four days, it will be my first Christmas since she left this earth. Five years ago, she and I traveled to Cancun for Christmas. We had so, so much fun traveling together. She was my best travel buddy. The next trip we were planning together is coming up in January - just a couple weeks. I will have to take that trip without her; though she holds a huge space in my heart and I will always carry her with me. Obviously, it is not the same.

Me & Mom Cancun-4-Christmas 2018

Dearest Mom, 

Happy Mother's Day in Paradise! Oh how I wish I could video call you and see your beautiful face, hear your sweet voice, talk to Cleo while she ignores me, and tell you that I love you second most. My heart aches for you. 

What keeps me sane is knowing that our Lord is loving you so much better than I ever could. He truly does love you most, and He just couldn't wait another day to hold you in His loving arms. I will do my best to get through these holidays with some smiles. 

Oh how I miss you. 

Always ~ Ang 

Isn't it Ironic

Oh the irony. 

The last time I posted, I shared a painting I did of my Nanna. A beautiful woman who was taken from us, yet she is still living. Today I return to this blog to browse and decide whether I want to pick up where I left off and continue writing here, or whether I want to just begin again. 

Why? 

My world has been rocked harder than I thought possible. I am struggling deeply. I am alone. I need an outlet and as strange as it feels, I am drawn to share it in a more public manner than just writing in my journals. Maybe it's a cry for help? Every single day I long to have meaningful conversation with people who.....who "get" me. Who understand what I am experiencing emotionally. Who I can be myself with. Who won't judge me. Who I can verbally process with. Who I can sit silently with. 

Who? Who are those people? Do they even exist? Who checks the boxes? Jesus. 

For now, I will ask Him if He would have me write here or begin a fresh, new blog to document the LONG journey ahead. Or should I even write at all? The fog is thick. Every decision I make is tainted by the deepest grief. 

For now, I'll do what I came here for today. To post my most recent painting. A portrait of a beautiful woman. The daughter of the woman in my previous post. A portrait of my sweet, sweet mother. My "go-to" person who checked all the boxes. Who I could talk to about anything, anytime. Who was the first person I wanted to share everything with. Who never judged me. Who never said things to try to hurt me. Who loved me no matter what. Who loved me the most. Jesus took her the day after my birthday. Oh how I miss her. 

My Beautiful Mom

February 13, 1950-August 7, 2023