POV (Point of View)

The words came like a sledgehammer to me. "I am a failure." It was a text from my friend. This amazing person, this vibrant soul who has been my pillar for years. All the things I have been through, I couldn't have done without them.

So when they texted me how their closest people blasting them for being a failure, for not being able to keep these people happy, all baseless accusation specifically made to broke them down, I saw red.

How dare they hurt this precious person. How dare they made this deity cry. Because I know this person and I know how capable they are. I know how much effort they put into everything they do, laced with care, sewn with affection. How dare these bastards ran a verbal knife to them like that.

I am even angrier at my friend. I am both angry and frustrated for their ability to see how precious they are. To let someone unworthy just trampled them like that. To be broken down like a worthless 99 cent glass instead of a priceless antique Waterford Crystal or a Baccarat.

Yet that's what abuse did. It erodes your mind, your confidence, your self-worth. The attack may look swift, but it was done in a period of time until those attacks become the norm. Until you don't know what were you before you were destroyed and reshaped. 

And all you can think of is how to satiate your abuser. Maybe if they are happy they won't attack me. Maybe if I play by their rule they will spare me. If someone angers them and I got the repercussions then f- that person. If I anger them then it's my own undoing and I should have been better.

The thing is, there will never be 'better'. You are a sand sack, ready to be punched whenever they feel like it. Sometimes physically, but always verbally. Even if you are perfect in every way, they will find flaws, mistakes, errors. This is never about perfection. This is about control. This is never about you. This is about them.

I know it's hard for people who were abused to believe in this. I am still struggling too. Another good friend told me they felt weird every time I said "Thank you for being nice to me." They are my friend and this is basic human decency. I know but there are times when I don't believe it. 

For me who has low self-confidence and went through two crash and burn relationships in which one was extremely abusive, I still get caught off guard by basic human decency. I still don't believe I deserve to be loved, to be treated nicely. I am still worried the backlash would come, the hand that pets me becomes the hand that strikes me. The words that lifted will be the words that smashed me.

I know the answer is love. Love from myself, love from others. Only with love I can realize my true worth, and stop willing to be treated badly. I must have been worth something if someone cares for me so deeply. But then the question is if I can see that someone cares for me, or am I going to stay blinded?

Babe, if you read this, please know that I love you. I love how our minds vibe. I love all the shades we throw. I love the many different things we can talk about. I love how kind and patient you are. I love how we can agree to disagree, which shows how understanding and open-minded you are. 

I know things don't feel this way right now. I know things feel so bad and so dark. I know you just want it to stop, to give in to the void and feel nothing else. And you know what, you deserve this break. I am just sitting here next to the hole you melted into, waiting until you are ready to come out. I am here, babe. I love you.

"I wanna love me (ooh)

The way that you love me (ooh)

Ooh, for all of my pretty

And all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me (trust me)

The way that you trust me (trust me)

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view"

- POV by Ariana Grande

Goldilocks

And I found myself chasing dream again

Looking at the windows

Knocking on doors

Letting myself in uninvited

Somewhere out there I will find the perfect fit

A delicious experience

A comfortable cuddle place

A place to rest my wandering soul

But I took what little deliciousness they can offer

And they will not offer me any more

I broke the chair that couldn't hold me

I was thrown from my sleepy nest

And the anger was unchecked

Rage against my insubordination

Fury for my daringness

And off I went running once more

I keep telling myself after houses are bad

The promise of forever is a poisonous treat

Walk away Goldilocks, walk away

Keep your little feet on the road

Yet once or twice I will look at the window again

At the warm fire dancing in the hearth

Of the comforting blanket and loving gaze

Of having something to call my own

Not right now, Goldilocks. Not right now.

Let your golden flocks bounced in the wind

Let the birds sang with you and the grass whistle

Let the wolves keep you warm under the ancient oak tree

My pretty dress is tattered and the dirt colored it

The calluses grow thick and the eyes grow dark

The loving girl was gone and the wild woman is born

Only the golden flocks stay

Sad Goldilocks, lonely Goldilocks, precious little princess

Looking for a home that's not for her

A dream that's a mere illusion

A love that's unattainable

Your deliciousness will flow freely, Goldilocks

As freely as the love you give the world

Your seat will be stronger than you are and twice as large

Your bed will be soft and inviting and perfectly yours

Until then, Goldilocks, stay true

To the lull of the forest and the song of life

To the things that love you like no other

And put your happiness above all

Kind Goldilocks, brave Goldilocks, priceless little queen

You will find your castle soon. I promise.

The Unloved

It's 6.30 am in Pomona and the street walkers are still out. One in tight leather skirt. Another in bright pink assemble. One woman, maybe not street walkers, sat at the bus stop in her nightgown with empty gaze.

Who will love them? Who will love the unloved? The ones huddled beneath all their belongings, their weak roots desperately grasping for some anchor even when knowing how easy they can be yanked once again.

Who will love those who only have their body to sell? It is not an easy way to make a living, but it will have to do. And even when you just had enough, you have to keep pushing through. There ain't no rest for the wicked.

Who will love the person who was screaming her head off at the bus stop? So erratic and so angry as if the world had taken everything good she ever has. Maybe the world did. Sometimes even God can be a dick.

It's a cold morning in Pomona. The sun shines gently atop the gold medallion tree, making their yellow flowers look even more bright and beautiful. I have my job, my lunch, a place to go home to. Life is good.

In another world a mere click away a war is raging between the vaccinated and unvaccinated, between progress and tradition. A constant race on the tiny screen to be the goodest boy/girl of all. Mining for likes, panning for fame, digging for followers.

Yet for the unloved none of this matter. None of the comfort I have is theirs. None of the debate, the race to glory, the keyboard war affect them. None of these will help them. They are invisible.

Good morning loved ones. I see you and I see your pain. I feel your struggle and I taste your bitter tears. I apologize for the hurt the world put you through. I love you then. I love you now.

The Plague

I am thankful for the USA. I have always been thankful, but recent events made me even more thankful.

Take Covid in Indonesia, as an example. Remember when we got so fed up with people stockpiling toilet paper and the price of hand sanitizer went through the roof? A friend told me in her city, an oxygen tank that was usually sold for $35 is now sold for $484. The Covid medicine Actemra that was sold for about $550 (around $750 in the hospital) is now a whopping $12,450 in the drug mafia. That is if you can get it.

Antibiotics are gone. Hospital beds are gone. Healthcare workers are diminishing from Covid infection and overwork. But that's maybe why the people take such small care about Covid. Health and longevity are reserved for the rich only or those with titles. Only Lords and Ladys deserve to live, others are meant for the grave.

This is what's so different from the USA. We talked about inequality over and over again. While it is great that we set our eyes on being better, we often forget how far ahead we are compared to other countries. 

Here in the US, I have the right to live. Not just living, but actual quality living. I deserve not only ways to keep this body of mine staying alive (food, healthcare, etc), but also staying alive in a way that nourishes me. I deserve to be treated as a human being, not a peasant whose only sole purpose in life is to feed the rich.

I know a lot of Americans feel that way. With billionaires' space race and politicians' arrogance, we are nothing but their pawn. But this is America. We can still have so much more. You could have jobs, school, everything if you wanted to. It is not easy for some, but it's not a definite "no" just because you don't have the same religion, or even not the preferred sub-race, skin color, or weight.

I am thankful for Americans who step up to help others, seeing nothing but fellow human in need. I am thankful for Americans who did not step up to help others, but at least not sneering and talking shite about what a useless action that would be. I am thankful for Americans who look down and made it public that selfishness is not an option.

It never was. Not in America. Even when there are those who will double down on being a dick (from both sides of the fence), there will be others who will furrow their brows and said: "That's not cool". As a person who previously thought I had to continuously fight on my own just to 'live', that made so much difference. 

It is always heartbreaking to see Americans seeing horrible things about the US. It was a painful road to obtain my citizenship and I am still paying for it right now, but it's worth it. The freedom is worth it. The equality is worth it. The safety in financial and human rights is worth it. 

I hope Americans can see this instead of continuous squabbling because the world needs our help. Indonesia, India, remote parts of Asia. We are the world's distant cousins who have the job, the stability, the power to make other family members behave. We are important enough to force that delusional aunt to give proper care to her children. We can make a difference.

Please, for the love of anything holy and the mercy of everything grand, please get our heads out of our asses and help them. This is 2021 and in Indonesia the people who can afford to live are only those with money and social status. How absurd is this?

The World Is Not Enough

I spent yesterday afternoon with Chase Bank because my ex-husband (whom I had restraining order on) registered for an online account using my email address. Chase basically said there's nothing can be done.

The thing is, I knew this will happen. I knew the moment he realize I am single again, he will pounced and try to come at me again. My ex-boyfriend can be menacing and my ex-husband is too much of a coward to come at him directly. But now my ex-bf is gone, I am fair game once again. I am, after all, his property.

Later on I had a screaming match at 2.30 in the morning with a friend's entitled party guest. He took offense that I did not kiss the ground he walked on and did not hide my contempt on his behavior and attention-seeking attitude. My host later on expressed that as much as deserving he is to be yelled at back, my host will be the one that has to deal with the fallback.

I am mad. I am furious. I am sad. Yesterday should have kicked off my birthday weekend: Friday Party, Saturday Swing Dance, Sunday board game madness. Friday ended up with me being considered as an asshole. Too tired for the swing dance. People cancelling Sunday because of new mask mandate. Had I kowtow on Friday, maybe at least I could save my Saturday.

But why? Why should I bend the knee? Why should I accept being treated like I am nothing just because I am a woman? Why should I be a sitting duck, a target just because I have no man to protect me? Why is my worth counted only based on the man I have?

I am a year shy from 40, and I am still nothing without a man to protect me. I am still expected to 'not rock the boat' because some men can't take being brought down to the level they really are. I am still being demanded to be 'considerate'.

How I wish I could be just that. Obedient. Patient. Aloof. Let the toddler run around and do what they want. They can't hurt us anyway. Just shrug the tantrum away. Don't take it personally. Can you imagine how peaceful my life could be? Why can't I be that? Why am I born this rebellious "go f*ck yourself" @sshole?

It seems I am in a constant struggle to be acknowledged as a person and that is not very assuring. It seems my path is clear that it would be a horrible bumpy road due to my unwillingness to yield and obey, or simply because I am born a woman. It is a depressing thought.

Happy birthday, dear Ary. The world will always be a depressing place because you were born with balls in the inside and vagina on the outside. But you know what, babe? It's gonna be fine. Even if it's not fine, we are going to make it fine. The world is not enough, but it is such a perfect place to start.

Sesat

Kata orang kita melawan covid. Konon. Tapi bagi saya, kita sebenarnya melawan segala kebatilan di dunia.

Kalau ngomongin kebatilan, pemikiran kita langsung ke esek-esek, judi dan miras, segala perilaku tidak terpuji dan demenannya setan. (Dan Setan pun yang: "Ih kok gue lagi yang dibawa-bawa??"). Tapi apa sih perilaku batil itu? Apa sih yang disukai setan?

Setan konon senang melihat manusia sengsara. Karena manusia yang sengsara nggak akan ingat Tuhan dan akan berpaling dariNya. Manusia yang sengsara akan menyengsarakan manusia lain, dan tambah banyak orang yang berpaling dariNya. Semakin banyak yang sengsara, semakin bahagialah oom setan. Laskarnya berlipat ganda.

Bukankah itu yang terjadi saat ini? PMKM/lockdown baru menyengsarakan masyarakat luas, terutama kaum marjinal. Cari makan tambah susah. Harga-harga makin mahal. Kalau sampai terkena covid yuk mari bye bye karena rumah sakit dan tenaga Kesehatan sudah tidak ada. Ini salah siapa? Ya salah kita yang tidak perduli dan menyengsarakan orang lain.

Sebagaimana penyakit apapun, yang paling menderita itu orang miskin. 

Kaum marjinal dan menengah bawah belum tentu bisa mengambil vaksin. Entah kendala data diri, kendala transportasi, atau ya memang tidak sanggup mengambil day off untuk meredakan efek vaksin. Vaksin itu kan memang bekerja dengan mengaktifkan daya tahan tubuh, jadi merasa meriang atau bahkan harus istirahat full itu ya wajar.

Boro-boro mereka bisa isolasi. Sudah lupa ya banyak orang Indonesia yang hidup di rumah petak, bersempalan tanpa ada social distancing. Nutrisi pun tidak seperti kita horang kayah yang tinggal pesan makanan online. Kalau sakit, ya walahualam. Mungkin lebih baik sekalian meninggal daripada berjuang hidup meninggalkan hutang bayar obat dan perawatan yang mungkin tak akan pernah terbayar.

Seorang teman bersikeras bahwa ini virus yang tak pandang status social, semua bisa kena. Iya, tapi opsi perawatan saat kena itu beda antara yang berduit dan yang tidak. Apa iya tukang becak punya kenalan agar bisa masuk waitlist rumah sakit? Atau abang gorengan bisa titip konsul foto thorax ke dokter paru saudara jauh?

Bagi kita yang lebih beruntung daripada saudara-saudara kita ini, buat kita yang kerja kantoran dan keluarga (lumayan) terjamin, buat kita yang berpendidikan dan mampu berpikir, ketidakpedulian kita akan covid adalah sebuah kesesatan. Kita menjerumuskan, bahkan menggali makam, untuk saudara-saudara kita yang kurang beruntung.

Seharusnya kita mampu berpikir apa dampak tindakan kita, postingan kita. "Gue sih nggak papa!" Ya iya. Elu ga kenapa. Nah yang lain? 

Jalan-jalan saat covid positive, apa nasib si mas waiter resto yang mungkin pulang ke rumah yang ada anak kecil atau warga sepuh? Menolak karantina sehabis bepergian atau party berdesakan dengan alasan "sebelum/ setelah party hasil negative!" bukan berarti kamu tidak membawanya pulang. Apa kabar orang-orang kecil yang kamu temui sepanjang jalan? Bagaimana orang-orang yang mungkin melihat postingan anda dan meniru tanpa melakukan prevensi sebagus anda?

Lalu jempol yang seolah tak bertulang posting ini itu, menafikan covid dan menantang imunitas. Apa iya kamu berani kena covid tanpa ada akses finansial dan kesehatan seperti halnya orang-orang pinggiran? Apa iya kamu rela berdesakan menunggu dapat hospital bed, dan pasanganmu yang kinclong mau mengantri tabung oksigen?

Para penegak hukum yang membawa pulang uang hasil sitaan dari pedagang kecil dan politikus yang bermandi dana bansos harusnya dipermalukan, bukan malah "syukurlah Tuhan masih memberi rejeki." Elu ngambil rejeki orang, cuy. Gerai-gerai besar yang tidak ditindak dan tetap buka harusnya dihujat di media karena tidak memikirkan nasib masyarakat banyak. Entah berapa banyak yang terpapar hanya akibat antrian BTS meal di M kuning.

Orang Indonesia getol menyumbang kanan kiri, terutama saat hari raya/upacara keagamaaan. Orang Indonesia semangat membangun rumah ibadah, agresif pelesir suci atas nama pembersihan diri. Tapi bilamana manusia dibuat Tuhan dari jatidiriNya, bukankah semua manusia itu berharga? Bukankah semua manusia itu penting? Lalu kenapa kita tidak bisa berpaling dari diri kita sendiri dan bukannya melihat apa yang terjadi di sekitar kita?

Vaksin. Taat prokes. Bila ada uang lebih nggak usah jalan, sumbangkan ke driver ojol atau delivery driver yang sudah membantu kita. Bersuara lantang pada berita hoax tentang covid, dan menolak keras orang yang memanfaatkan situasi. Kalau dibilang anda sales covid, ya nggak kenapa. Lebih baik jadi sales covid yang mungkin menyelamatkan manusia lain daripada nggak perduli dan pasti menjerumuskan.

Kita ini orang mampu, nduk dan ndoro. Tugas kita untuk menolong yang tidak mampu. 'Kelebihan' kita bukan anugerah, melainkan amanat. Ingat itu.

The Pearl

I love myself. I really do.

It is always taboo to say that you love yourself. It is conceited at best, delusional at worst. Surely one should be humble enough to not aired it. Is it not more elegant to not publicly acknowledging it? What good of such tactless announcement will make?

But I love myself. I love my winning smile. I love how my curves look. I love the seductive way I walk in high heels. I love the ruthless point-hungry monster when playing board game. I love how well I cook. I love how adventurous I am. I love every single part of myself.

Yet all of those are not an ode of how great I am. All of those are gospels of how great my tribe is.

That smile is the result of uncountable hugs and 'just checking on you' poured indiscreetly on me. My bosom-up-back-straight is the result of the confidence born from shamelessly loved. Be it in person or by electronic means, I was loved ruthlessly by my tribe. The type of love that flow more freely than a river, much deeper than the ocean. 

I love my ex-boyfriend. I think a part of me will always love the person he is. The sharp pain was unbearable when I left him, but with each passing moment the love I received form a protective coat over that thorn. One at the time, day after day. It is no longer intensely painful. In fact, my life with him now feels like a distant memory or even a dream in the multiverse.

This is what love do. Love protects. Love accepts. Love is the beauty that covers the pain. Not making it disappear, but to lessen the impact. For we will not be able to appreciate what we truly have unless we accept the pain. And I am loved abundantly.

I love who I am because it is a reflection of how much love I have received. From my friends, from my family, from my ex-lovers. Each broken part was covered in gold, each pain is layered with comfort and care. Each makes me the beautiful person I am. The pearl. The rare jewel.

I accepted that. I accepted humbly that there must be something good about me that makes my tribe loves me and care for me so much. Even when my impostor syndrome kicks in, I firmly told myself that I have to trust my tribe. Just because I do not see anything good in me, it does not mean they see it the same way. Do I not put them in highest respect? Why do I doubt them, then?

This acceptance is the hardest part of my growth. It is too easy to play victim, to resign to "nobody loves me" or "I am not worthy of love". With that mindset, you can easily shift your failure to someone else. You can hide behind that excuse as to why your life is miserable. 

To accept you can be loved means taking the full responsibility of your action and how it affects your life. To accept it means accepting the reality that you could be the true villain and you just keep f*cking up royally. It takes different kind of balls to man up and be open to such consequences.

But oh how worthy the payment is. How beautiful you would be if you let yourself grow, if you let yourself heal. I have never felt more beautiful, stronger, fiercer than I am right now. It feels like walking to war in a set of indestructible armor. I am the proudest pearl that shines and gleams, grateful for the pain and the love that made me who I am.

I still think of him at times, still hoping the best for him. Father's Day, birthday, he was still in my mind. That chapter is closed, and happier chapters start filling the book. I wish him the same peace and happiness I found, wherever and however he may find it; also for others who still think they are not worthy of love. 

It is ok to be not ok. It is ok to be vulnerable. It is ok to graciously accept love. It is ok to believe in kindness. It is ok to accept help. Be the best version of you, scars and everything. There is so much good in this world still. Trust me.

Happy Birthday, Murica

The man was sitting inside the Panera store, eating what looks like a piece of bread with nothing on it. His body odor and general appearance indicated he may not have a place to stay. People sat away from him, uncomfortable. I recognize that hunger emanating from him as he handled his bread. I was there. When I finally got my bagel, he was gone. I cried inside.

How many of us is actually willing to sat next to a homeless person for a lengthy period of time, stench be damned? How many of us have the bravery to initiate interaction with them knowing fully well they may not be in the mental state to accept our gesture, that it can end with us getting hurt?

It's a beautiful headline though. We care about the homeless. We are good people with golden heart. We be the good guy. Of course, as long as we do not have to interact with them at all. Or the ones we interacted with are carefully curated to ensure our pretty a$$ is safe. It's the equivalent to religious clothing and/or quoting. What matter is we look nice.

So we step on these people. These people who are lost and wary. These people who needs unconditional love and acceptance. We fought over Covid vaccine and precaution without thinking how it will affect them. We bashed each other over lockdown mandate without considering what hell it will be for them. And as we complain about how difficult life after pandemic is, theirs are even worse.

To help them we need to start accepting them as human, as equal. Choose a person you saw on the street and ask yourself: How can I be comfortable when sitting with them across the table?

Is it the odor or the unhygienic appearance that threw you off? If yes, then we should have more cleaning station. Is it the (possible) violent tendencies? If yes, then we need to focus on safe spaces where they can be free from violence, collect their thoughts, and even wean of the addictive substances they may be using.

The goal is for everyone to sit comfortably on the dinner table. Together. For you to be able to see them and wave cheerfully just as you would to your office's security officer or to your regular convenience store clerk. For them to realize they have a place in this world, and not all is lost.

Until then, I say a little prayer to those I met on the road as well as many others that I did not see. I pray that their night is warm and their day is bearable. I pray that they have a safe place to go. I pray that in the darkness that swamped them there will be light shining through, even if it's just a flicker far out in the distance.

Happy birthday, America. I love you and all your people, including them.