Wholesome

"You are a wholesome person." 

I needed that. 2021 and 2022 have been challenging for me. Another news just dropped yesterday and I spiraled down pretty quickly.

All the what-ifs, all the I-told-you-so. Are the pesto flags actually marinara flags? Am I, yet again, dancing to my destruction? Do I deserve this full-priced happiness instead of the ones I usually get from clearance bin?

My boyfriend told me I am a wholesome person. Sitting on the bed in his home in Florida, fingers intertwined and the sound of thunderstorm outside, that moment I believed him.

Being alone in the heat-scorched LA is a different thing. No matter how hard I try to assure myself, it comes out as a loathsome brag. Those who are truly good won't need to tell the world they are good.

But I am not telling the world, am I? I am telling myself. I need to learn to hype myself like I would hype others. I need to love and trust myself just like I love and trust others. 

I don't need to be perfect. I can be both wholesome and with flaws. I am responsible in fixing my flaws, but it will not take away my wholesomeness. I am still me. 

And with that, I have to learn to talk back to my douchebag brain. I can't control feelings or emotions of others, or the outcome of anything, even when I did my best. And it's ok. 

Whatever comes, I will be ok. I know that.

Grief

Today I grieved. Again.

It is so exhausting, isn't it?

The crashing waves that shook your boat

Just when you think the sea is calm

The journey is good

And you are safe

But oh no here comes the wave

Salt water on your wound

Cold and soaked through your bone

Unspeakable pieces of, uh, something?

You wanted to cry

You thought you did so well

You have been brave

You did your best

And the wave just crashing down

What a loser I am

Crying over a wave of grief

I wasn't taught to be weak

Nor does the grief deserving my attention

I should do better

But what if, what if

What if me crying is not a sign of weakness

It's a sign of strength

Of how deeply I love

How strongly I care

What if I didn't cry for inconvenience of the present

But for what things could be

For the promise of the future

That now will never be

Sigh. This sucks.

My clothes are dry

My boat is moving

All that's left is my journey

I shall move on

The wave will come crashing again

But I will be ready

Maybe not the next one

Definitely sometime in the future

The sea is vast

My journey is long

I will keep moving on.

How Does Our Garden Grow

It was almost 80 F this morning and I was sweating myself out as I walked uphill to my office from my bus station. I really wanted to call rideshare. I really did. But then I thought about how the temperature will keep going up, and how horrible it would be for other less fortunate people. Those who live without AC or proper housing. Those who live in the streets. 

I choose to walk instead. This is me in solidarity with those people, I thought. Not unlike those who carry the cross on Easter procession, this is me acknowledging and being a part of my brothers' and sisters' despairs.

Which is a load of bullsh--.

I was using a nice umbrella and a pair of designer prescription sunglasses. My backpack contained all the yummy things for breakfast and lunch. I will have the cold, blissful AC and icy water to drink from once I arrived at work. I will come home to a comfy bed and a safe house to rest my so-called weary soul. And if, God forbid, something happened in between, I will have ways to escape and find safety.

I am fortunate. I am privileged. I am blessed.

Someone once replied to the accusations of people abusing drugs using welfare money with "Of course they are. What else can they do?" It was life-changing for me. What would you do if the world seems against you, if living is a constant pain, if the future is an abstract concept? What would you do if you don't have hope and you can't even dream?

We become reckless and selfish. We take and take and take. We exhaust every possible way to gain control, to escape from the world that does not welcome us. Drugs, alcohol, bad decisions. Anything to numb our pain, anything to feel something else other than what a worthless life we have.

Yet as the heat beat down the streets of Los Angeles, we, these people, are nothing but numbers. Those who are unfortunate. Those who made bad decisions. Those who invariably will get very, very hurt as the summer heat rose with little to no help available for them.

We failed them. One can argue that there's no way to prevent someone from making less-than-stellar decisions or seemingly refusing to better themselves, but options should be available. If we found ourselves where we are unable to hope or dream, or to see anything past the next day, is it really a life worth living?

I am here, comfortably sheltered from the heat, thanks to the privileges I carried. My ability to hope and dream, and my problem-solving skill, are all thanks to where and to who I was born. And with that, so do many of the people around me. We grow exponentially in this lush soil of a garden, making it the most wondrous yet.

I want the same thing from the world beyond this garden. Where one must survive through cracks in the concrete, vying for the last polluted drop of water, and toughen oneself after the inevitable crush by unwary feet over and over again. I want them to have lush soil too for them to grow. A place to hope and dream and bloom to their best potential.

Because they are not pests. They are not weed. They are not invasive or ugly or have poor outcomes or are useless. They are beautiful, and they deserve the same chance we are. They deserve to be sheltered from this relentless heat. It is time for us to grow our garden properly.

Traditions

"Our traditions are disappearing, respect for our values is fading." ~ The druid of Bleobheris

It excites me to no end to see the little pronouns at the end of the e-mail I receive from the Natural History Museum. She/her/hers. Yes girl, I thought to myself, claim your identity.

Truth to be told, as an ESL speaker I couldn't care less about what your pronouns are. This is purely from a grammatical POV. The Indonesian language doesn't have gender pronouns. Keep in mind that I have spent 9+ years in the US and learned English since I was 8 or younger. I am proud to say that my poor partner has resorted to trying to guess what gender I am talking about using context only because I will use the wrong pronouns. Ok, probably not proud. I am trying really hard here but it just doesn't stick.

Then why should I be so happy looking at the gender pronouns on the e-mail? It doesn't affect me, right?

But it does. It does affect me. The great thing about the US, the one thing that differentiates the US from other countries, is the freedom of choice. It is literally what builds the US. A bunch of people saying " 'Aight imma head out" to preserve what they think is sacred to them, and boom viva le capitalism. Being able to place those pronouns when many parts of the US are simply against it is a symbolic freedom of choice. Pretty much what I am here for.

It's scary to some. As the druid says, for some our traditions are disappearing and respect for our values is fading. But what really is the tradition? What really is the value? 

Human is a wonderful, amazing creations. We solve problems in a scary record time. We evolve as quickly as the seasons. We adapt, we conquer. Unlike sharks and crocodiles and alligators and other ancient relics, we stay alive for so long not because we have the optimum design from nature. We stay alive for so long because we know how to deal with challenges along the way.

Traditions and values have one main purpose: survival. This is why we have different traditions and different values from different parts of the world. This is also why we have different traditions and values from different time periods. At some point, for example, one stay-at-home parent is needed due to the lack of access to resources and childcare. With what we have right now, both in terms of resources and challenges, SAHP is either moot or unaffordable. 

Either way, the world is changing as it always is. We've sped up the changes of the earth with our climate-related actions, but even without our existence, the world is always changing. Humans are also always changing. Traditions and values come and go to suit new challenges and thus ensuring survival. 

Maybe, maybe the current challenge to survive in this world is to accept ourselves. Thus, the need to find our identity. The knowledge of who we are, what we are, and what we are capable of would be our bows and arrows to ensure our survival, to find our footing in this ever-changing world. 

This is the new, current tradition and values. One that surely will be replaced in the future as we adapt to the challenges of the future, and so on and so forth. The future is an ever-changing Boggart that is ready to pounce and strike with our deepest, darkest fear. Traditions and values is the spell "Riddikulus" that breaks them.

Honestly, coming from us sharpening stones and flints not so long ago with really low life expectancy, this is not so bad.

Good Enough

I am good enough.

I keep telling myself this. I am good enough. Sometimes it works and it makes me smile. Sometimes the vicious voices win, and it all sounds fake. 

But I am good enough.

Just me, alive, is good enough. Me, being friendly. Me, being nice. Me, doing my best to make this world a better place.

Just me, like this, is good enough. Me, with my breakdowns. Me, a little overweight. Me, with my weird accent and confusing train of thoughts.

There are so many good things about me. There are so many bad things as well. But I am good enough. I can't always be the good guy, and that's ok. I am the villain in someone else's story, and that's ok. I can't change how people think about me, good or bad or so so, and that's ok.

Yet even with all that, even if I am the most meh person ever lived, I am still good enough. We are born with a purpose. We are given the opportunity to change the world, to help others. But even if, even if we failed that purpose, the fact that we are a bunch of cells and electricity being put together and working out just fine is already good enough.

Us living, breathing is good enough. The countless neuron synapses worked together, the beating heart and the ever-diligent blood cells, the brain and eyes and other senses working overdrive to keep us alive while processing the wonders of the world. This is good enough. 

I want to keep writing about why I am good enough, but that's the point. I shouldn't. I shouldn't need to justify why I am good enough. I am here, alive. I am here, doing my best. 

There was never a time for me to beg, plead, or implore that I am good enough because I shouldn't ever have to. Because those whom I need to convince have already decided their mind. Because the only input that matters is from myself. And I will say this: I am good enough.

I am good enough. Even when my trauma told me no. Even when others told me no. I can't please everyone and that's ok. I am good enough.