A week ago, I had a mini surgery on my right eyelid. I’ve been having repeated eye infections for over a month (ketumbit), so I went to a normal clinic for a consult, and they referred me to a specialist on Sunday. I went after work on Monday. The doctor said we should just do the minor surgery that day. I was not mentally ready, but suddenly I was lying down on a surgery bed being prepped. No one even knew I was there, because I didn’t plan on it.
The nurse covered me with those fabric things over my upper body, I couldn’t see anything, and the doctor started doing some uncomfortable stuff on my eye. Thank God I didn’t see anything, because he really just went in and did what he needed to do. I only heard and felt things. He made a small incision, took out the pus, cleaned everything. It was probably done in 20 minutes. I walked out with an eye bandage like a pirate, went home on a Grab, and got myself two days of medical leave. And another course of antibiotics, which just ended today as I’m writing this.
On the same day I had the surgery, I was also heartbroken over something quite major in my life. I was actually waiting to go home from work just so I could cry, so the surgery ended up being this very impromptu, unplanned thing on the worst day possible. And for the next two days, I had to stop myself from crying because the cut was still wet. That was probably the hardest part. Not being able to physically cry. Having to hold everything in.
Thankfully the cut healed quite fast. And I’ve been crying every day since.
Both my sisters knew I was having a hard time, but my brother didn’t. Or maybe he did, and he gave me the space. I’m going to be a bit stereotypical here and say men don’t always process emotions the same way we do. So I’ve been avoiding him because I don’t feel like explaining things that might not even land. He asked me how long I’ll be “closing” this blog. I just rolled my eyes and ignored him for a while.
I told my sisters not to worry. I’m okay. I’m eating. I’m not suicidal. I’m just heartbroken, and I will go through this. I always do. My sister has been texting me a lot these days because she’s “concerned” - I have a history with breaking down dramatically. So I’ve just been openly vulnerable with them. Because whatever, it’s just pain, and I’ve been in pain for the longest time anyway, kan. What difference does it make?
When she asked how am I doing: “I die every day. Tp every morning I bangun”.
At this point, I think I’ve become a bit nonchalant with my pain. Not because it doesn’t hurt, it does, it is amazing how much we can feel inside but because I’ve decided to just ride it out until God decides it’s time for me to move on to the next level. You might feel uncomfortable with how good I am in talking about my pain because we are living in a society that hides uncomfortable truth and I don't answer "how are you doing" with "I'm good". I hate to feel like a victim, so I choose to accept the truth whatever hard it might be because that is the reality of it.
And I’ve been thinking that maybe I should just use this ability I have, to articulate what’s happening in my mind into written words. I’ve been practising this for almost 20 years. I know a lot of people struggle to put their feelings into words. Maybe if they read how I process things, they’ll feel like it’s something they can learn too. Yesterday I saw Ocean Vuong's interview and I noticed he can write so beautifully because he let himself feel the emotions, he accepted them.
So I’m just going to say it out loud now. I’m a writer and I'll write.
Because I write as honestly as I can and if I die tomorrow, at least I know I’ve been doing this consistently for the past 20 years. So, maybe closing this blog isn't the right choice because I don't want to make myself much smaller than how I already feel.
Let my words take a space.
And you shouldn't be here. This is a space for people who are not afraid to feel.
