The organised chaos

The seaweed is always greener

Feeling a little under the weather today.

Okay, it’s more like today is one of those days when I want to snuggle into my duvet, read a book and then wallow in self-pity. Hah! I keep smacking head-on into the roadblocks at work and instead of being all zen (“it’s not me, it’s them) about it, I am feeling ragey. And binge-eating on Crabtree & Evelyn cookies (birthday gift from a thoughtful colleague).

Meesa needs to cultivate inner peace. Breathe, I shall. Off, they must fuck. (I can’t claim credit for this ingenious line, stole it off a brilliant meme!)

I paid a visit to my physiotherapist yesterday and she gave a sigh. Apparently, I’ve hurt my sacrum/spinal thingamajit. It’s a “pregnancy” ailment, due to the body having to carry that extra weight and my insides being moved to accommodate the baby. The joints are injured. Or something like that. Which is why no amount of foam rolling can alleviate the pain. Right now, all I can do is to apply heat, swim, do yoga. No running. And then go back to see her regularly for her to poke at me long enough to loosen the tightness.

Which really sucks.

So yup, wallowing in self-pity. Shall log off now to pick up my littles. In the meantime, I dream of colours and warmth and going on holiday and becoming a HDB tai-tai.

Going to Singapore Science Centre//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js

The organised chaos

Female, aged 35

I sit typing this as the day draws to a close. 11:15pm, that’s when I started. I have to complete this post by 11:30pm because one of my goals for this year is to get more sleep. With Zac waking us up at 5/530am every morning, the only way I can get a nice stretch of sleep is by, well, sleeping earlier than usual. Somehow, my children are allergic to sleep AND I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY.

35 years and almost 12 hours ago, on this day, I was born. It’s been such a ride, so many highs and so many lows. The lows were horrible, difficult to live through – so many deaths and illnesses and poverty and emotional scars. But the highs? Oh, so many beautiful memories. No matter how bad it gets now, I know and remember that it could have been worse.

And so I am very glad to be here today.

In my youth, I dreaded growing older. When I was 18, I shuddered at turning 25. And look at me today, 35 and proud of it. I think it has something to do with being so much more comfortable in my own (ageing) skin. I know who I am and what I am and you can take it or leave it. I am no longer in the business of trying to make everyone happy – I do not give a shit to what you think.

A few weeks ago, I had a bit of an existential angst. Or moment of realisation. One of those things. I was thinking of something else and randomly, it dawned upon me that my birthday was coming up and HOLY SHIT I AM TURNING 35. That’s like one foot into the door of middle-agedhood. And I had a sudden panic attack. 35 and what have I done with my life?

And that’s really me in a nutshell, always wanting to do this and be that and getting frustrated that my situation does not permit me to do so. That’s why I decided that this year will be the year that I am patient with myself, that I do not ask too much of myself.

11:25pm.

Knowing that there is so much that I seek to achieve, and also knowing that I am hopeless at organising my life (see what I mean by knowing myself well), I downloaded two apps on my phones. They are habit trackers: I set habits like “Go to bed at 11:30pm”, “Practise yoga” and “Write/Create” on certain (or all) days of the week and then when I attain these habits on a daily basis, I mark it off with a tick. It makes me accountable to myself and also, hey, it’s pretty cool to see the boxes checked. Let’s hope that by the time I turned 36, I am still going to bed at 11:30pm, practising yoga everyday and writing.

11:28pm.

Usually, I would spend my birthday with my favourite boys. This year, however, husband took on a new job and he started yesterday. Which meant that it was impossible for him to take the day off and spend it with me. No biggie. I decided that since it was my birthday, it would be a day for me and took the day off.

I dropped Aidan off at his childcare centre, all sobbing and clinging on to my leg. I half wanted to grab him and bring him home with me but steeled my heart and walked away. Left the littlest at home with my mother and I went for an hour’s yoga session. Stretched out the kinks, pushed my body a little further than it has been used to for the past four years and it made me feel so good.

BONUS: the gym’s hairdryer is DOPE and it made my hair all perfect and nice, in a matter of minutes. MINUTES.

I then met my favourite girlfriend – she whom I have known since we were 13, spotty and really awkward – and we had lunch and tea together. We hardly meet, what with our brood of five between us, but it’s always a joyous thing when we do. It’s a most wonderful, funny and heartwarming and honest and giving friendship.

In the evening, I sent my mother home and went to pick up the man at his new far-flung office. We drove home in happy conversation, had dinner and then had cake again. Aidan sang me a line of the birthday song after I threatened to withhold cake from him, Zac ate so much he farted twice and then we put them to bed.

And now they are happily snoring in their beds and I am writing.

11:35pm. (Oops)

It’s a simple day. No gifts, no flowers, no big gestures.

But I am happy.

This year is not looking like it will be easy, what with the man’s new job/long working hours/traveling/office location and my steadily increasing workload. Some days I think about it and I despair. Just a little. But I know I will get through it.

I always do. I’m a survivor. I’m strong.

Happy birthday to me.

Yann at 35