Enme

Yesterday, I was getting a quote from this Oxford removal company and at the end of the call, after I’d said I would call them back to confirm, they informed me that they don’t transport alcohol or religious ornamentation/crucifixes (ie. Christian crosses, Hindu, Sikh, Jewish, New Age stuff).

What a waste of my time, and totally unprofessional way to deal with customers.

The solution to this company is simple: follow suit from Asian newsagents and foodshops, and just put something like the Halal sign. Just say,”We’re an Islamic company”. That’s enough for non-Muslims not to approach this company and waste time.

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A blend of the sense of accomplishment and disappointment hangs eeriely in the air, as I complete my last four days at work.

I’ve achieved so much, yet I’m being nagged by the possibility that it might have all been in vain.

If it is going to be all in vain, I will be angry, professionally offended, and disgusted, just as strongly as I am proud, content, and vindicated by the sheer virtue of achieving all that I’ve done.

A single cup of tastes at odd, swirling around in my mind and heart, the simplicity of the chalice glimmering in my eyes. Sweet and bitter, soothing and scalding.

… [she] is traumatised by the accident…  

We're going onto four weeks soon since the accident.

It's not just a Misteka problem. There's more going on. It's something received and acted upon over time and by observing and unconsciously absorbing.

*Long sigh* Everyone around me is pointing me to focus and revel in the great gifts coming my way. But that unseen hand, that slowly pushes my head to focus on all the darkness.

I know that hand. The arm is familiar. 

I'm finding it very hard to put into words to express last night.

Such a blend of intimacy, passion, sadness, pain, bliss, beauty, awakening. Seams of different colors woven.

Throughout the night, even before I went to dinner, I wasn't too excited. I was sullen. And that carried thru the rest of the night. Sitting in the restaurant, talking, eating, simmering in the dim lights and choice music, the drinks, the exchanged glances with the bubbly waitress, thinking "Could you kindly take her place?"

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I've been receiving counselling over the past month or so, and the process of talking, thinking, reflecting, and bringing back the harvests of all that back to the office has been really helpful to me.

Digging deep into the past, able to now acknowledge how I feel and what I want, able to realise this and that.. I thought it would be good, helpful, cathartic, enabling me to propel forward into a new stage.

It has. But…

I want to hold on dearly to a few things. Because dropping all of the bitterness, hate, sadness, powerlessness, and past would mean I'm dropping the only known, untouched parts of my identity. If I drop them, I have little left.

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