Little Stories 324: Cursed by My Tonsil

This morning comes in tune with The Adults Are Talking by The Strokes. Please listen to the song while reading this particular post. I wrote this with the song playing on repeat.

I woke up from sleep, feeling pain in my left throat, throbbing in my ears whenever I swallow. I thought it was one of my migraine (yes, sometimes it can be felt in my ear). So, I checked my throat using my phone's spotlight, lighting at the back of my now lopsided swelling throat. What the heck is that? It was huge and really painful to swallow, or talk, apatah lagi makan/minum.

Decided to visit the clinic on a whim after sending Sofi to school. 

Turns out it was a bacterial infection, complete with an abscess. That yellow thing on my left tonsil wasn’t mucus, it was pus. No wonder it hurt like betrayal. So here I am, ending the year with yet another round of antibiotics, right when I’d just started my prebiotic journey for my gut. Great.

I’m annoyed because it’s always something, kan. The doctor asked if I wanted painkillers or an MC, but I said I could manage the pain and I needed to work anyway. I answered like a true Capricorn and even my inner self rolled her eyes. Reality is hard, but I’m harder. Thus the song choice because my personal soundtrack rarely matches what I actually feel. Fake it till neuroplasticity makes it true, right? Dry humor being my coping mechanism. 

Lesson of the week: I'm not going to gaslight Sofi again whenever she tells me "sakit tekak", because if this is how she feels, this is another level of throat pain.

I do dance party whenever I'm too stressed out

- 

My brother asked why I make the blog non-public. I told him I needed the silence. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, I crawl into my hole and stay there quietly. Energy preservation mode. Then he asked, “Who even reads your blog?” 😑 Him, obviously. I’ve been quiet in the group chat, but he’s been silently stalking my posts. Where’s the silence in that. Ha. 

So because I know he misses my morning posts, I will pretend like this is a newsletter of my little drama for him. And we are mentally preparing for the family-thing, so I need to come out from my hole now, make an effort and be a normal human. 

Hope it is a good Friday for you. 

PS: Tomorrow I want to make pumpkin + cauliflower's soup at ma's and we could do like a nice outdoor breakfast meal for Sunday.

Little Stories 323: The Place We Still Meet.

Dear MC,

It is almost the year-end now, you've been gone for awhile. My office will shut down soon, and everyone’s clearing their leaves except for me. They told me to take a break too, recalibrate, recharge, whatever that means. I’ve been texting random people to see if anyone wants to go somewhere, anywhere. I still have almost a week of leave to use, but I hate the holiday season; Christmas and New Year crowds, everything expensive or closed. I haven’t decided on anything yet. Maybe I should.

This would’ve been the perfect time to plan our book retreat. We should go to Okinawa. It wouldn’t be too cold, and we could read as much as we want. 

Remember that night when I asked where I should go to continue your journey, and you typed, “Go and do your pilgrimage walk in Japan.” I haven’t been able to think about those walks without thinking of you since. The latest book I’m reading is Things Become Other Things by Craig Mod. Huge crush. The walking memoir moved me, it reminded me of the notes I wrote for you. I love it. The perfect combo: walking, writing, photography, and gentle geekiness. He is by far my favorite walker. He is living my absolute dream; quietly, intentionally, beautifully. So I've been living in Craig's shadow instead, following him around during his walks. That's the closest thing I have to the walks. 

Sometimes I wonder what you’re up to, wherever you are. If you still walk. If you still read. If you’ve found a place with endless steps and books that never runs out. Maybe you’ve already finished the pilgrimage and you’re just waiting for me to catch up.

I’ll get there eventually.

Little Thing 322: In Need of a Village

In the past month, Sofi has had scarlet fever, chickenpox, stomach flu, and now the latest another fever (she has a cold too, so maybe it’s related). I’m exhausted. The Christmas holidays are coming soon, and work has been piling up before the blackout season. Working while taking care of a sick Sofi takes its toll: the lack of focus, the dip in creativity and quality in my work. I’ve even had my fair share of 1:1 talks about it. But I couldn’t bring myself to say that managing a sick child while working has affected me tremendously because it would sound like an excuse.

I still want to be in the driver’s seat, to handle everything professionally. But sometimes, I feel like giving up. I can’t control the stress, the acid reflux, the indigestion, or the 2 a.m. wake-ups even after taking my “chill pill.” I fall sick last week (the whole week). My body is screaming in silence. I haven’t even had time to run. At the back of my mind, I’m thinking about all the projects lining up, demanding attention. Even on weekends, they hover. 

And I am angry because I had to think about work while Sofi is sick. I want to be present while making paper gnomes with her or lying down to watch Ponyo when she wants a hug, or paint the next cardboard boxes to keep her occupied, without running back to my screen every 10 minutes. IT IS SO PAINFUL.

But this is the hard season. And hard season comes and go. It makes me resilient, sure, but it also makes me feel like shait. I know I'm fueling on stress hormones and it is not sustainable.

It’s rare for me to ask anything specific from God because I don’t always know what’s best for me. But this one, I know for sure: I need a village. I want a village. A whole village to help me raise my Sofi.