Ok last entry for processing today! The month has been moving so fast, as I was replacing classes for colleague instructor 2 weeks in a row, with the new release 131 some more. I think I not only injure my arms and shoulders a little bit, but also dysregulated my nervous system that I consistently feeling dizzy and suffocating despite of trying to get as much sleep as possible and taking care of my nutrition. Anyhow, sister found a letter last weekend.
It is a notice letter addressed to my Dad from YS Foundation on my departure to KL for my 1999 academic session. It’s the final semester of my secondary school and the year when I took SPM examination. And my Dad didn’t use his title to be addressed with from the letter.
I cried inside noticing how long ago it was. Like 26 years apart. Man, I really have lived that long. I remember that time we were already discussing which course or university to go after SPM and what degree we all are pursuing. My top choice was engineering, and second one was architecture (as I can draw very well and I loved our Art subject). Though, I didn’t pursue engineering as it was against my Dad’s will. Moving forward, I did somewhat become an engineer, only that I engineered software and I didn’t like that job. Never in my younger years would I have thought that I would become really fit and healthy in my 40s.
Boarding school experience were bittersweet for me. It’s where I learn about friendships, belongings and confidence. I think a lot of my relationship wounds were also originated here. My parents tried to be as helpful as they can and we kept in touch once a week via hacked payphones.
It’s a really sad experience whenever I feel vulnerable and in need of help and comfort, but my family is so far away, especially on weekends when families were flocking the school compounds to visit their daughters. I was quite fortunate to have some friends whose parents were kind enough to invite me to sleepover at their houses during short break so that I won’t have to sleep inside empty dorms. That again has another set of unexplainable stories. I kind of developed a survival skill to put shame aside and blend in with the families that I had stayed with. I was fortunate enough to have been linked to a distant relative (can’t remember how we met). We weren’t very close and have the most disconnected relationship ever. It was pure transactional I think and we’re just bonded over the fact that we have blood ties. However, I am so grateful now for them for taking me in with the family, picked me up from train stations, fed me and sometimes gave me money to spend. We don’t talk to each other now. May Allah continue to bless the family.
A few distinct memories, I was corresponding with a boy from KL of whom I’d been writing to since I was 10 years old I guess. He was really cute and he was my first crush. We never met though I have tried once. He didn’t show up and only a friend of his was there, it was supposed to be a double date. From there I thought I wasn’t attractive enough for him and I’m not as pretty as other girls. We connected on Facebook once. He still looked good and already married that time. Wonder how he is now.
On friendship, I became best friends with a girl from a wealthy family. Stories went around that she was flewn in to the school in a helicopter. The school was surrounded with girls from many wealthy family which made me feel so unworthy and insecure that time. I didn’t know my Dad was a big shot this time. So in my head, I was just this kampung girl from Sabah and I am not as good as others. My friend, she had many favourites and I thought I was one of them too until she discarded me for a better more rich and fashionable crowd (this was what I had thought back then which might not be true. The girls she hanged around with were her dorm mates and on some degree related to her from previous schools or same social circle outside of school). I remember she was trying to hook me up with some guy once but I was too shy and made an excuse to not join them as I needed to study. Now I think of it, maybe me not being transparent and honest with her about how I feel caused us to drift apart over the years. I dressed like her, adopted her love for fashion and perfumes but our friendship didn’t last and my thought at that time, she was only friends with me cause she wants me to help her with studies. I did develop friendship with other girls but can barely remember our bonds. Many times I wanted to quit and talked to my Dad and he often had some nice things to say to keep me motivated and be brave facing my challenges at school. I vividly remember talking about how I struggled with History classes and complaining about being bullied by seniors. Eventually I realised how talented and smart I was. Though my parents lied a bit about my caretaker background for my scholarship screening, I think I really deserved to be there.
I developed a tough persona after being friends with my marching band group. We were the percussionist team who were supposed to be the strongest and toughest of the entire marching band team. I have developed more confidence by this time having performed in an international arena and winning many band competitions. Though I had the chance, I still sucked at relating with boys and communicating with the boy I had crush with. Last time I stalked his Facebook, he has gotten fat. The only time I felt comfortable hanging out with them was when we just casually hanged and exchanging banters in between rest sessions during our practice for the SUKOM event in 1998.
And then, within the band group, I experienced sort of a weird dynamics again with a friend I was close with. It’s like within the group, when a certain loud person wasn’t around, she would hang with me, like be my bedmates and seatmates during our tours. Sometimes I was discarded, and I felt annoyed maybe? I didn’t say anything about it but acted passive aggressive instead. I don’t know if it’s common with other girls friendship. She wasn’t being loyal to me. It’s like there’s a hierarchy of people in the band you had to please or be friends with. I, then, concluded that I wasn’t a great girlfriend and I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t a good model of a woman, not feminine and etcetera.
To be honest, I didn’t like the school and the thought of my experiences there could make me cry. However, my batchmates remembered a lot of fond memories about me. It wasn’t just a good experience for me growing up to be a healthy human being. We all were stuck being who’s the richest, who’s the most popular, who’s the loudest, who’s the prettiest, who’s the smartest, who’s the most liked by teachers and so many more. Despite of all that, I would like to acknowledge the experience as a part of formation of my unique personality, intelligence, courage and confidence. I should definitely write more about my teenage experience at school to process all of my existence. By writing more, I hope I could unravel all my wounds during this time and change the story about who I was and who I am now.