Diagnosis: Always-choosing-the-hard-option-mania

Always-choosing-the-hard-option-mania was the diagnosis my friend gave me for my condition as I shared with her my troubles, blessings, and life stories to date. Apparently, I have a tendency to choose the road less taken in almost all of my life's aspects. Should I be concerned? Maybe.

Presenting symptom: After high school when I chose to do psychology vs. some other fields with greater job prospects all over the world.

Other subsequent symptoms: choosing to come to USA vs. Aus, NZ, or Spore (countries closer to home with more M'sian support), attracted to guys with characters and in professions that are harder to be in a relationship with (not gonna describe) vs. regular guys with more relaxed workload, chose an off-mainstream psychology field for graduate school, chose to do a high-stress clinical training vs. just staying in Minnesota where everything and everyone were good to me and allowed me to do whatever I want, probably not going to settle for regular marriage life with own kids (maybe not gonna have kids or choose to adopt).

Positive outcomes: Increased confidence and independence, increased resourcefulness, greater cultural exposure, a lot of adventures and stories to tell others, a lot of places around the world visited and will visit...

Setbacks: constantly facing uncertainties, worrisome to parents, no set friends whom I can physically go to all the time, a lot of money involved, lack comfort and security.

Prescribed treatment: None.

Yikes....

Praying for a smooth return

My mind has been very flustered lately. Well, actually since I started working but more so the past week. So much uncertainty. It is a blessing that I can still find glimpses of peace and tranquility in my mind a few seconds at a time throughout the day.

For the past week I have been on vacation but I spent most of the time struggling with the dilemma of whether to stay at my workplace for the entire 3-year MS program or transfer to a PhD program next year staying in the same field or to switch field completely e.g. to I/O psychology. After a week of thinking and talking to people, I finally made up my mind to stay and go through with the three years. Despite the excessively structured environment and high stress, I will get the best training to be a teacher, behaviorist, and a clinician. My challenge, to remember to be as present and human as possible to the students and other teachers. Tomorrow, I start work and I can't help feeling nervous about going back to work. I worry that I might forget the students' guidelines, I am not looking forward to going back to the stress, and I am afraid I will not be good in general. So many doubtful and irrational thoughts swam in my head for the past 2 hours. Yikes...

I pray for peace of mind.
I pray for the strength to love and exude joy to the students that I am working with and the teachers too.
I pray for mindfulness of my actions and the sharp awareness of my surroundings.
I pray for the wisdom and intuition to make the appropriate decisions both at work and in life.
I pray for the openness to look at the glass as half full at all times.
I pray for the well-being of the students and the other teachers as well as my own.
I pray for a smooth transition back to work tomorrow and the best of my performance.

A Motorcycle Ride with Guevara and Granado

A couple of days ago, I watched a Spanish movie that my friend recommended called Motorcycle Diaries (Diarios de motocicleta), which depicts the 7-month journey of two men around South America on a battered motorcycle in 1952. This movie is based on the travel journals of Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, one of the greatest iconic leader in the Cuban revolution. I thought it was a great movie that shows how one's travels and observations from the travels can change one's life drastically forever! Guevara and his buddy Alberto Granado were merely looking for fun and adventure through the trip but what they saw changed their lives forever. Guevara was humbled by the less fortunate people he met along the journey and was shocked to learn about the indigenous peasantry, the segregation of the sick from the healthy in Peru, and the endemic poverty all over the continent. Through his observations, he came to the understanding that the economic and social disparities in the continent is due to imperialism in the past and capitalism and that revolution is the only way to change things.

I found the movie really thought-provoking. First, it brought up the question of the best way to make changes and better the world. Bloody revolution vs. passive resistance? Next it made me think about what I can do for this world? To what extend am I willing to give and contribute to the betterment of this planet or my own country for that matter? Guevara gave up his comfortable life to fight for a better future for South America.

Questions aside, this movie only added fuel to my burning desire to travel to South America. Machu Picchu!! I thought about my own life - the possibilities of me ever doing something like that? Something crazy...you just don't know what's gonna happen next and I wonder if I were to do something of that sort, who is going to be my co-pilot? I feel like life is not complete without doing something crazy.

Sense of Adventure

Today went by rather quickly. I woke up, ate, went for a walk, went online and before I knew it, my day is over.

When my dad came back from work, he asked me to grab a ladder from my cousin who lives a couple of houses up the street. I was wondering what he was gonna do with it. I later found out that he wanted to climb onto the roof and reconnect the phone wires on his own. He didn't use the ladder but climbed out from my bedroom's window instead.

It was pretty nerve-wrecking to watch him risk his life. I didn't dare to say much when he was out on the roof in case I might break his concentration. I was there to watch and provide assistance when necessary.

So many things passed my mind including plans to save myself in case I fall (I was imagining myself being the one on the roof) but the most notable and attention-worthy though is the thought about courage and daring, doing something risky in life. Thoughts of how people get yelled at all the time here for attempting to do something risky (they are labeled stupid) passed my mind; I thought of how most of us are conditioned not to do daring things, I thought of how I was constantly struggling to dare myself to do things and break off from my past conditioning (that little sense of adventure in me), I thought of the little naughty but brave kids in the village who just run around and get into trouble at the end of the day, and I thought of how important it is to just trust your guts and the body and not so much the mind, then I reflected on my driving skills - my dad told me not to think and worry too much and let my subconscious mind do the driving (but don't I need practice before I can do that?).

Coincidentally, when I checked my mail just now, the topic in Oprah's email newsletter was on having a sense of adventure and breaking free from the rut. I thought the last paragraph of the article pretty much sums everything up.

"Being adventurous, it turns out, is a little like being a good dancer: Most of us think we aren't, and the more we're convinced of this, the less hope we have of loosening up and getting better. But if we would open up a little—look at what we might do instead of what we're certain we can't—we'd discover something: "Hahn wrote that every human being has within himself a grand passion," says James. And that passion—that's where a sense of adventure really takes you. "

I guess what I gained today from my free contemplation was the understanding that there is most of us have a strong sense of adventure that have been weakened over the years by societal upbringing. Nevertheless, I am thankful for my pluck to do things even though I am afraid of them. I am grateful for my sense of adventure. I pray that others will find that sense of adventure in themselves and harness them to the fullest.

Frustrations over driving

Yesterday evening I asked my dad to give me another round of driving lesson with the stupid old manual Proton Saga. After we dropped our grandpa back home, I moved to the driver’s seat and drove back. Between focusing on shifting gear to figuring out where to go to changing lanes to getting around the roundabout to remembering to stay on the left, I was yelled constantly by my dad and my mind was just all over the place. I got off the car just stunned. I didn’t know how to react, I didn’t feel angry or upset but my dad kept saying I’m upset and angry so it made me mad. I just went upstairs and sat on the floor and cried, feeling like a loser and that I sucked at driving. I know that there are a lot of people who aren’t that great drivers but I just don’t want to give up and give in. I refused to be a lousy driver. I wanna be a good driver. But that’s really my ego talking – not wanting to lose. After contemplating, I realize that my two greatest weaknesses of not having a good sense of direction and being anxious easily made driving a lot harder for me. I wonder if sense of direction can be taught. I know anxiety can be managed as I’ve learned to manage my anxiety better over the years with meditation, yoga, and other relaxation techniques. My driving in the US improved with practice. Hopefully it’s the same with manual car. I just need to gain some confidence in driving. Curses! I’m gonna keep on trying.

Visit to Kapit, my dad's hometown

My family and I went to Kapit for the past few days to visit relatives and visit my grandma’s grave. It has been 5 years since I last went there and so we thought I should visit my dad’s hometown. From Kuching to Sibu, my dad, bro and I took the helicopter while my mum and sis followed my aunt and uncle in their car. It wasn’t my first time on the helicopter but it was my first time traveling from one city to another on one. It was fun. It was scary though with the thought that we were only buckled with waist seatbelts and we were sitting next to the doors. The view was great; it was so green. Looking down at the lust and dense rainforest, I wondered how one would be able to get out if one got lost in there. I started figuring out escape plans – checking out which direction I should head to in case we were stuck in the forest. Hilariously, when I talked to my brother about it, he said he was thinking the exact same thing. LOL.

When we arrived in Sibu, we took the express boat along the Rajang River to Kapit. Kapit downtown looked a lot more developed to me, with more buildings that were constructed. However, it still smelled and looked as dirty as before. Litter was everywhere and the roadside reeked of sourly stench which resulted from the litter. All of a sudden I became overly wary of hygiene. I went into my uncle’s coffee shop and I was appalled when I saw the toilet as the door was open. We went upstairs to the house to drop our luggage into my grandpa’s room where we would be staying and saw how dirty the toilet and the sink was. Ants were crawling all over the wall and dressing table. There was no toilet seat and it couldn’t flush properly. OMG. I am such a city person. And here I thought I had grown tough after being abroad (probably tougher in some areas and more spoilt in others). Of course, the toilet and shower in my aunt’s and uncle’s master bedroom worked perfectly but I didn’t get to use it till the last day.

Once we dropped our things, my aunt and uncle brought us to meet with some other relatives in their convenient store and brought us to have mid-afternoon snack. Everyone spoke so loudly and enthusiastically about things, sometimes it seemed like they were arguing. I was so soft-spoken and lady like there. Nice change. They had a different Hokkien accent there and so pure, almost uninfluenced by English. Sometimes I had difficulty understanding them. I did my best to speak Hokkien without using any English terms. The Chinese there also speak Iban, since Kapit is primarily settled by the Ibans.

I ate and ate so much in Kapit. There wasn’t much to do there but eat. My pants are so tight now. My mum is happy but I’m not. All the hard work to burn the fat has gone to waste. Sad. My dad brought us around in my uncle’s car and I was awed by the extreme greenery. Wow, this place is so untouched by mankind. My mum and sis arrived in Kapit the next day and we visited my dad’s sis in her home and helped her make kaya (coconut egg jam) and cake. Well, my sister did most of the job while I used the internet and watched TV. In the afternoon, my cousin took me on a motorcycle ride around the area. Only then, I got to fully appreciate Kapit’s beauty. The fresh air, the greens...it was great. I didn’t get to fully appreciate the beauty while being enclosed in the car.

The next day, we went to visit my grandma at her grave. I was not here for her funeral as I was still in the US. I was not very close to my grandma as some of my cousins are so I was not very sad when she passed away. However, when I saw her grave and when my mum asked me to say something and pray for my grandma, I started crying. My sister teared a bit too. My grandma is gone and seeing her grave was a blow of reality in my face and that brought tears to my eyes. We went into the car and I calmed down. My family didn’t speak a word about it. May my grandma rest in peace.

More readjustment problems arose when I told my dad one morning about my dilemma about moving to Boston. We ended up arguing and he yelled at me for not listening to his suggestions. Him asking if I was listening to myself talk was all it took to shut me up. My pride and ego were bashed and I was upset. I did my best to breathe in and out and reflect on the problem. I tried to stay as calm and collected as possible. The feeling of inadequacy arose. I felt like I was back to being the old me – being all defensive when people try to make fun or question the areas in my life that I am struggling with (e.g. driving), behaving all princessy (too wary of cleanliness and hygiene), eating slower than others and being pressured to eat faster. My self-esteem was somewhat hurt. I thought I grew beyond that – having gone overseas, living independently, dealing with problems calmly and reasonably – and bang! It hit me that success and accomplishments in certain areas of my life do not make everything else better. I learned to be more compassionate and dealt problems a lot better with others but not with my own parents. Curses! I gained a lot of confidence after being abroad as my accomplishments there were acknowledged by many and I was almost never criticized for my weaknesses while I was there. Being back here, everything just switched around. Also, in America, by American standard, I’m pretty adventurous, tough, not picky etc. That boosted my confidence. I forgot that I performed below Malaysian standard in that area.

Nevertheless, I am grateful for my awareness and for the ability to write and reflect. It’s my coping strategy here. I guess that’s the best I can do – just being aware of my feelings, accepting them as they are, taking the experience as a learning experience, being grateful for the experience, and working on areas that I can work on.

Home Sweet Home, Kuching!

Sweat! and more sweat! That's all I can say about my initial re-entry experience back into my home culture. Nothing in my cultural, cross-cultural, and psychological trainings and preparations could have prepared me for this physiological discomfort. I felt like I was in the U's rec center's steamroom breathing in the warm air that is moisture-filled the first few days I was here. I had to shower so many times a day to bring my body's temperature to a bearable level. My record was 4 showers in a day.

I arrived in Changi airport at 1 am after a 21 hour flight from LAX and was greeted by my favorite aunt and cousin with her kid and her sister's kid. I was thrilled to see them although I can't really feel the excitement or even show it to them due to my excessive exhaustion. But, I was glad to have arrived safely in Singapore. My cousin drove me to their house to sleep before sending me to the airport again the next day to take my flight back to Kuching. As expected I couldn't fall asleep due to jet lag and all I could think about was nothing. Things felt as familiar as before. I was too tired still. My cousin bought u char kueh, tau hu hua, chui kueh, and chai tau kueh for breakfast and I was so happy to see them but I didn't feel that great after eating them. Sigh, jet lag.

My cousin sent me off at the airport in the afternoon. When I entered the gate waiting area, I could hear people speaking hokkien, iban and bahasa sarawak. How "homely". I noted their appearances too - very down-to-earth. Wow, I was really going home. To add to the "homeliness", the airplane attendants were not as friendly and cheerful (they looked like they hated their jobs) as the ones in SIA and they all spoke in Malaysian accent. Moreover, when I found my seat, a guy was sitting in my window seat. It's quite Malaysian I guess for somebody to do things even though he know it's not nice unless he is told off. I asked him nicely to return my seat and luckily he did it without any obvious contempt towards me. I ended up having a pretty descent conversation with him and his son during my flight back. I also caught myself off-guard with my American accent when I asked for waDer instead of waTer from the air stewardess and had her going "What?". Oops..

I kept looking at my watch, excited and apprehensive about arriving. I looked out the window and enjoyed the aerial view of Sarawak. It was a lot more mountainous and forest-dense in my mind. My heart pounded heavily when I arrived. I was so happy to see my parents. My mum was appalled by how skinny I got though. LOL. I gave them both a hug and they drove me home. My house seems a lot smaller but everything is the same. Nice! I didn't do much that night except unpacked, had home cooked dinner (which I couldn't fully enjoy), watched tv and slept.

The next morning, I woke up early and had breakfast at home since my parents hadn't taken leave. I reacquainted myself to my old kitchen, turned on the radio, and sat down at the dinner table while eating biscuits and drinking milo. I looked out at the papaya tree behind my house and watched the cats sunbathe at my backyard, and suddenly, my eyes began to teared. It was a small moment of bliss and gratitude for being home. The immediate perspiration after stepping out of an air-conditioned room, the old newspaper collectors yelling through the speaker of their van, and the 'put-put' sound of the van that sells bread...boy it felt so good to be home. I was also happy to have met up with my friends and caught up on each others' lives. I also visited my high school and my choir teacher. The trip was reminiscent of my old days in high school.

Of course, there were some reverse culture shocks. Other than the heat, my family looked so different - my parents looked different and my siblings and cousins are so big and tall. Everything is smaller - shopping aisles and carts, cars, roads, food portions. The cars are driving on the left side of the road and the signs look different. I also forgot how to coexist with my family under one roof after being used to living alone with so much freedom. I couldn't take it when my mum reminded me to do every single little things at home, controlled my diet (nagged me on what to eat and what not to eat as I am still recovering from my appendectomy), and yelled at me when I played basketball with my siblings. She meant well as she was looking out for me but I felt caged and trapped. LOL. It's better now that I'm almost used to it. I also almost got into an argument with my family about microwave use. They didn't believe that one could just put food in a ceramic bowl/plate and place it into the microwave. They insisted on using the tupperware microwave container. My mum irked me when she said something about me picking up crap from the US. It was at that moment that I realized I was imposing my newly acquired knowledge and values on them. Things have been the way they were before I came back, why should they change just because I'm back with some new knowledge and values. *sighs* I should take it easy and not come forth too strong. Also, when I met up with my relatives, I expected that they would be very happy to see me but they seemed quite aloof and just briefly greeted me. I guess I wasn't close to them before, so why would I suddenly be close to them now. I expected things to have changed drastically over 3 years but I suppose some things don't change. I guess absence makes one's memory rosier. All these less than pleasant experiences made me feel like I never left home.

I had some interesting observations when I bumped into my cousin who is an assistant minister in Sarawak. I thought he was a humble, low-profile lad as my parents and I caught him sitting alone having lunch in a fishball noodle shop. He asked me what I was studying and if I planned to return to Sarawak. I said I wasn't sure and he encouraged me to come back. That got me thinking about if I should stick with what I like and stay abroad or be selfless and come back to serve those who could use my skills most. *sighs*

My uncle, Kuching's mayor, who was eating in another coffee shop with a convoy of people, saw my cousin's car passed and asked him to join him in the other coffee shop. We walked with him to that shop after we were done eating and joined them in their conversation. Wow, it was so funny how big shots socialize and how the other commoners tried to follow the protocol and butter them up. That aside, the thing that popped up in my mind while I was with them was that if I were to come back here one day to help with the autism center or with the research development in this country, I would have to socialize with politicians to gain access to funding from the government and stuffs. Hmm...I just hope that it won't be so pretentious and that there would be a lot of new young leaders who would understand the importance of research and education and things of that sort. We'll see.

In summary, I learned that "One's destination is not a place but a new way of seeing things", as said by Henry Miller. It's a good thing that I had my past cross-cultural experiences to help me adjust and adapt quickly. Before I came back, I thought 2 months was a short time to be back here. Now I think otherwise. I guess I haven't filled my time enough. It's a good thing July is traveling month for me. I did something interesting today; I had a driving lesson with my dad today in the manual car with very very low steering power. I totally forgot how to drive a stick. Fun times..