Snowy Roads

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;”

It snowed today. And it looked pretty beautiful. And sometimes I forget that. I am grateful to have friends and family from home that still share that novel feeling towards snow that brings me back to appreciating it. I think being in the US after a while and going through the motions (of college and work especially), I took winter or snow for granted or even dreaded it at times because of the biting chill the extreme cold can bring. I still don’t particularly enjoy that severe cold, but I think this year, knowing I will be leaving this country in a year or two, has given me a renewed outlook or perspective on it. It doesn’t become too much dread or negativity but rather, a feeling of wonder and appreciation towards nature and the intriguing idea of having four seasons in a year. 

In Malaysia, I grew up with basically one season, summer. And it was comforting to have a constant in that way. In the US, it was fall and then winter and then spring and then summer. Just as I was settling down to the norms of one season, it would switch to another and the transition would begin again. And when I wanted it to switch out from winter, it stayed longer than expected in the interesting New England weather. It forced me to adapt or attempt to adapt to change, whether I was ready to or not, whether I wanted to or not. 

It also funnily is a good metaphor of my mental headspace and journey adjusting to change in myself, the people around me, the places I was in—in America, in Malaysia, and in the world. For a girl who was so used to no change and conditioned for consistency, I was sent on a tumbling adventure of constant change and unpredictable weather (in more than one way). At times, I adapted. Other times, I struggled—actually, most of the time, I struggled. 

But that was the beauty of it, right? The beauty of a true adventure and rocky road—because I never really saw what was coming. That was a big shift to accept for a girl who sought comfort in structure and getting ample time to plan for the future. 

So, I guess this in-the-moment post is me reflecting on the past four years of my life in what once was completely unfamiliar land. It is still unfamiliar at times but like all homes, different aspects grow on you and you learn to find home in this new place in your own way. 

I guess I want to celebrate, as well, how far I’ve come and how much I’ve grown even in the aspects I have yet to see in myself. The road less taken was a road I chose to take and it has pushed me to grow, change, and challenged me to death. But somehow, by the grace of my heart, God, whatever one wishes to call it, I am still here—still trudging, and sometimes dancing, in the snow. And I will continue to put one foot in front of the other and make my own way, whether in snow, dry land, rainy weather, monsoon, or a blizzard. 

I am happy, grateful, and feel blessed for the strength, wisdom, and vulnerability I have been able to have and continue to carry with on this road less travelled by. 

“I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

Dear 10-year-old self: It is okay to be you.

I painted my nails last night. I chose a nude/pastel pink. I thought it looked quite nice. I liked the way it looked with my skin colour and my ring. Not too bold but still a tinge of colour. It was subtle but sweet—the way I liked it.

Last year, I painted my nails the same colour. I remember looking at it the night I painted it and then caught myself looking at it again several times after that night. I remember not liking the colour. It was too pink, for me, I thought. It reminded me of how I felt like pink was too girly a colour for me to admit to wanting to wear. I remember thinking how this pink wouldn’t go with how I would want to dress because I don’t dress that girly anyway. It doesn’t “represent” me. 

These moments come every once in a while but I think I’ve made some strides from my younger self. There was phase during my primary school days when I ensured that I did not step out of the house wearing any colour or clothing that would suggest that I was “girly” (whatever that means). I would choose long baggy cargo pants that were black. I’d choose tops that were t-shirts or shirts that seemed gender neutral. I’d stay away from skirts or dresses, almost as if I was too cool for them. Looking back, I remember how much I worried about being thought of as “girly” by other students in my primary school. I needed to show them that there was no ounce in my body that would suggest to them that I was, I thought to myself.  

In retrospect, perhaps I was self-conscious about the teasing made towards the barbie doll-themed bags I would buy, the pink pencil box my mom got me (with the cool built-in sharpener and mirror), or the row of new-looking hand-me-down barbie dolls that my friends would see when they visited my house. On one hand, I had a mommy who loved me very much and perhaps went a little overboard when I showed initial interest in barbie dolls or pink. After a while, I would get known by how many barbie dolls I had at home or my pink barbie doll lunch bag I always brought. On the other hand, I am not sure whether the comments from other classmates became too condescending or negative—that part is a blur. But I do recall feeling this weird urge or desire to do everything in my power to convince everyone around me that I was anything but the girl who had these things. I started to go against it. It became the catalyst to my “rebellion” against pink or all things girly.

It has been so many years and I have gradually gotten over a lot of this. Scarily, there are some issues I still work on to this day (re: the pink nail polish story in the beginning). Nevertheless, it feels good writing about it now because I feel like I’ve never really found a space to process that period of my life in better honesty and clarity. 

Taking a step back, first, I see a younger self that was probably pampered and a mom who probably needed to take a step back and not get everything she thought her child wanted. Second, I see a younger self who first embraced what she liked but then, upon judgement from others, tried so hard to avoid any associations with who she was and what she liked (even if she wasn’t sure) in hopes of gaining a sense of validation or belonging with the in group. In her intense drive to “belong” or be “accepted,” I think she lost a bit of her own self, her own freedom and openness to experiment with new things, try something on a whim, live genuinely, make mistakes, get back up, and be okay with making more—she started living in this precarious bubble of made-up assumptions of what is “acceptable” to be or do in society or her “friends”.

So, 14 years later, here is my long overdue letter to my younger self:

Dear Andrea,

I see you have found quite a liking to barbie dolls and pink things - cool! I’m sure there will be more stuff you’ll find in your adventures but I’d say enjoy this moment! Maybe tell mommy not to get too overexcited and hold off on getting everything in the world for her only daughter. She loves you dearly and this is how she is showing you her love but a good reminder for her once in a while to just let things be can go a long way for you to be a stronger person.

I also know you feel like you want your friends to like you. Or you feel that you need to prove something to people around you. You don’t—as unconvinced as you may be reading this. Your true friends will stick around regardless of what things you bring to school or what colours you like. 

Moving forward, you will forget this many times so I am letting you know this cheesy thing you’ll probably roll your eyes at: You are beautiful and awesome the way you are. You are also 10—there is a whole world of things, people, and passions ahead of you that I am so excited for you to discover and pursue whole-heartedly! There will be things that you love, ones that you don’t, some that you’ll pursue and realise after that it isn’t your thing. And that is all part of the adventure and equally important! Things don’t always have to be perfect or come out exactly how you picture it in your head, as frustrating as that may sound now. Trust me, patience, mindfulness, and riding the wave will be themes that will be of great help along the way! 

This is your journey of self-discovery. You will discover what you like, what you don’t like, and all of this will change again and again. And that is okay. But don’t sell yourself and your adventure short wasting time worrying about shaping a perfect image of how you think society or your friends want to see you. Life is too short to obsess over what every single person might or might not think of you and the choices you make. 

Be you—whether that means your favourite colour is pink, black, purple or all of the above; whether you like barbie dolls, kung fu fighting, ballet, or both. You write your story—don’t let someone else write it. Be open to new, different things. Make mistakes. Learn from them. Make some more. Live and love courageously and not in fear. I’ve got you 😉

With love,

Andrea

One Step

It’s been very difficult to be vulnerable. My trip back home had A LOT to do with vulnerability. It also had a lot to do with checking my self for my past tendencies for perfectionism and control. In some ways, control and perfectionism lie on the opposite side of the spectrum from vulnerability and openness. 

My trip home had me looking inward a lot of the time and sometimes, forcing myself to try and be real, be genuine, and try to understand what my feelings and thoughts were even in its rawness. And be okay with it. I am grateful and so happy that I pushed myself to do that. And that I continue to push myself to be present in all of this. Another milestone in Andrea’s growth adventures taken/still being taken!

There were several relationships with people that I felt I hadn’t been completely honest with myself and with the other person about. I was tired of living behind that guise, so, I would say it was a goal for me, when I returned, to clear the air and say my part. To stand up for what I wanted to say—as vulnerable as that was for me, especially not knowing what the response would be. But I did it anyway. And I am glad. 

I’ve been noticing how much fuller my heart is and how much more at peace I am with myself, my feelings, and the people around me. I also feel more grounded, centered. And it isn’t like everything is perfect and there are no problems anymore. No, it is quite far from that. But it feels, as I was telling my friend, like I have resurfaced to the top from 20,000 feet underwater and I am now swimming. With a weight attached to my foot, but I am swimming. And I feel like I may have enough stamina and moments of air, for now, to just keep doing that—swim. And swim I will. 

I am taking it one stroke at a time. I like this self right now of being more mindful about what’s going on in my heart and mind, acknowledging it, embracing and feeling it (the pain and the joy), and then putting the next foot in front of the other, knowing that it’s part of the journey. All of it. 

So, the resolution or the theme for this year is to take one step at a time. Because that is what I can do. 

Amen. 

Hazy But Full

January 5, 2018

As I sit in the departure hall awaiting to leave Malaysia, flashes of my time at home in the past two weeks keep coming. Along with the drunk stupor of jetlag I haven’t fully recovered from, it is a blur. The emotions are thick and complicated, the body is reeling from being thrown into another time capsule that leaves it soon handling the aftereffects of double jetlag—is that a thing? But somehow, even in the anticipated sleep deprivation I am dreading, there is a sense of fullness or peace in my heart. I do not know if it is a temporary calm before the storm returns. But I do know that I am happy and satisfied with my time in Malaysia.