Your Voice and Mine

Your Voice and Mine

Your voice and mine, 

Sounding different but still the same. 

Saying things that echo through both our hearts,

We recognise shared pain. 

I am heartbroken, you say. 

Grieving over loss and death,

Sorrowful and downcast, 

Life holds no joy. 

I am angry, you say, 

Ashamed of wanting change, 

Trapped and resentful,

Life holds no joy. 

I am hurt, you say,

Betrayed by those you love, 

Neglected by those who should have loved you, 

Life holds no joy. 

I am invisible, you say, 

Disrespected and unheard, 

Feeling worthless and small, 

Life holds no joy. 

I am lonely, you say, 

Not just alone or solitary, 

But lonely in a crowd, 

Life holds no joy. 

I am dead, you say, 

Alive in body, but dead of soul, 

Life holds no meaning,

Life holds no joy. 

Your voice and mine, 

Sounding different but still the same. 

Saying things that echo through both our hearts,

We recognise shared pain. 

What if I told you I have felt the same, 

I know what you mean, 

I, too, have lived the joyless life, 

And yet life holds hope? 

I have been heartbroken, angry, hurt, invisible, lonely, dead, and much more.

I am you. I made it through. 

Life holds hope. 

Are you comforted?

Are you encouraged? 

Are you uplifted?

Life holds hope. 

Your voice and mine,

We sing the same song.

I know the words, let me lead you,

A song of hope.

Pavitar Kaur Gill

21/08/21

Dedicated to my clients whose struggles echo mine echoes theirs. 

Lock Me Up

Supposed to be writing a 1500 word essay on schizophrenia... but I decided to write a poem instead! If only I could submit this... 

Lock Me Up

Lock me up and throw away the key, 

Over medicate me,

Do what it takes to bring you peace, 

Just don't say it's for me, please.

I'm unstable, unreliable, unloveable,

You're impatient, unkind, inflexible.

You just don't know what to do with me,

So you lock me up, throw away the key.

Some days I am fine as a feather, 

Some days I am really off my rocker,

Tell me if you're my friend in good weather,

Or are you riding on my roller coaster? 

I feel your whiplash, see your pain, 

Feel our guilt flood us like rain.

If only I could be what you wanted, 

If only you could be what I needed. 

Some say schizophrenia is just a label, 

Others say it's a lifetime sentence,

Some say it's a way to disable,

I say I want more than tolerance. 

Tolerate me if you really must, 

But love me if love lives in your heart,

Just be honest if you know how,

I'm the one being torn apart. 

If I speak does anyone hear, 

If I scream I instil fear,

Yet I see things that are not here,

Voices and shadows ever near. 

Is this a disease or an illness,

Or just a mental state of mind?

Call me mad or insane, 

But we're really the same kind.

On a spectrum east to west,

You're what's normal and the best,

I'm on the extreme as some would say, 

Lock me up, throw the key away. 

Pav 11th June 2021

Tell me, again (13.05.21)

Wrote this on 13th May as I contemplated my clients and their many sufferings, and how I might help them. 

TELL ME, AGAIN.

Tell me, again,

The story of your pain,

The tale you have told many,

You fear you have no friends left.

Tell me, again, 

How they hit you, 

How with each beating they took something from you,

Leaving you cowering in fear, but raging inside. 

Tell me, again, 

How they screamed cruelty at you,

Words laden with venom that struck at your heart,

Leaving you dying slowly, but raging inside.

Tell me, again, 

How they saw you but you were never truly seen, 

How you passed each other like shadows in a dream,

Leaving you invisible to the world, but raging inside. 

Tell me, again,

How you spoke but were never really heard,

And your voice became silent as you held back your words,

Leaving you voiceless in a sea of noise, but raging inside. 

Tell me, again, 

How they said they'd always love you,

But they ran away when they saw you at your weakest,

Leaving you heartbroken and numb, but raging inside. 

Tell me, again, 

How much you loved them,

And begged them not to die but they did,

Leaving you behind without their tender touch, and raging inside. 

Tell me, again, 

How many have left you,

Tired too soon from being a pillar, from hearing your story,

Leaving you adrift on an ocean that threatens to drown you, raging inside. 

Tell me, again, 

How much you hate yourself,

Thinking you have failed to be somebody else,

Leaving your true self abandoned and unloved, and raging inside. 

Tell me, again, 

And I promise I will listen,

Over and over until the pain lessens,

And slowly I will help you find your way back home,

To your lonely self waiting to be loved, and the raging will subside. 

Tell me, again,

The story of your pain, 

The tale you have told many.

You need not fear I will leave you. 

Tell me, again.

Pavitar @ www.patientvoicessg.com

13/05/2021

Thanks for reading.

Staying authentic through Quarantinitis (29.04.20)

 (A reflection I wrote on 29/04/20)

What does one name a mysterious sense of listlessness despite being busy, and an underlying nagging sensation of dissatisfaction despite having everything one could need while being at home for weeks? I call it "Quarantinitis". A sense that something is wrong despite everything appearing to be right. Some kind of low level, almost inflammatory, unsettling wave, that ripples through you every now and then when you pause long enough to think about it. 

It isn't ennui per se because you have plenty to do at home and life isn't aimless. It isn't full blown depression because you do get out of bed daily and do the things you need and want to do, and they do bring you satisfaction. It isn't a lack of joy in living life because you still find joy in even the smallest of things, even at home. It isn't deep despair because life is still very much worth the living, and you have hope for the future. It isn't a numbness of heart that disables you from feeling a full range of emotions because you feel them all, especially at home. It isn't deep grief over any loss you feel being at home for weeks, and yet you do miss the things you freely enjoyed before. It isn't deep dissatisfaction with life because you remind yourself that you have so much to be grateful for, and truly you do.

But it is some kind of borderline dissatisfaction or vague unhappiness or slight sadness that you experience and attempt to address in quarantine every day. You tell yourself not to dwell on what is missing but on what you have. To be truly, deeply, genuinely grateful for all that you have because others have so little, and yet on some level, that doesn't offer you enough comfort. You can't help having more of the material things in life, you just do. And your feelings and emotions, whatever minor or major thread of dissatisfaction runs through them, are real. 

We are often told to look at things relatively, and to do a comparative analysis of sorts with the underprivileged to see that really, we aren't so badly off because we have a beautiful home, plenty of food on the table, privileged kids who go to good schools, and can afford more than the simple niceties of life. In fact, many of us live in relative luxury to most of the world. And yet our feelings and emotions are as primeval as those of our ancestors, and very much a part of our shared humanity no matter what our position in social hierarchies.

I grow weary of people reminding me of how good my life is and in the process, unknowingly negating the validity of my feelings and emotions. Yes, I have everything I need, and more than enough, but I can feel sadness, despair, grief, dissatisfaction, lack and loss, just like everyone else. To be told to count my blessings everyday is a helpful exercise but only if I have been listened to in the first instance, my feelings have been validated, my inner self has been seen, and made to feel visible, and I am able to process my feelings over time. To gloss over this process is to hinder the healing and growth of the soul.  

A blanket, "Be grateful for everything you have, you're so blessed!" or "What have you got to complain about, you're so lucky!", doesn't help provide space for those feelings and emotions to exist, and for you to sit with them. It only serves to bury feelings which can fester, and eventually lead to dissonance and despair. The soul suffocates and shrivels up because it cannot bear the burden of not meeting someone else's expectations of grateful living, and feels that something must be wrong with it, when, in fact, its needs were never acknowledged in the first place. 

It doesn't help to be told that one shouldn't be sad because there are far sadder people in the world, with the logical extension of that being that one shouldn't be happy either, because there will always be people who are happier than us. It's totally dismissive, and highly illogical. Even people who seemingly have everything can experience lack and loss in their lives. It's part of being human. As are compassion, understanding and empathy, all of which seem to be in short order these days.

Quarantinitis affects everybody in different ways. It's a relief to have basic needs more than met, and to be able to address emotional needs. Those emotional needs are important, and shouldn't be minimised in anybody. A big part of living a meaningful life involves dealing with one's feelings and emotions and the work that entails. It's the work of a lifetime, growing one's soul. Hopefully, being in quarantine is a good time to reflect and introspect... in addition to disinfect! 

Don't deny your feelings and emotions, dear friends. May your quarantinitis be lessened as you find those who can listen to you, and understand how you feel, and help the authentic you be visible. If you need to speak to someone, you can speak to me. Hugs and love, and stay safe. ❤

#Quarantinitis #StayAtHome #StaySane #StayConnected #PavListens #PatientVoices

Thanks for reading,

Pav

 

Be still and let it go (26.04.20)

(Posting a reflection I wrote a year ago on 26/04/20)

Living with a chronic illness like Crohn's disease prepares you for life in the midst of a pandemic. Essentially, you learn to be still, and to let go. You let go of dreams, hopes, plans, people, and even a part of yourself when you live with pain, diarrhoeas, gut obstructions, liquid diets, food restrictions, hospitalisations, surgeries, joint pains, migraines, and the side effects of powerful medications.

You learn to adapt, to be flexible, to be in limbo, to be forced to be still, to rely on yourself, to listen to your body and your own small voice, to defer instant gratification, to be alone but not lonely, to smell the roses and watch the birds, to appreciate the people who choose to remain in your life, to find meaning in the smallest of things, and to enlarge your heart with gratitude for all that remains. Life, interrupted, but life all the same, and a life of great value. 

And here we are in the middle of a pandemic and the whole world is at a standstill, almost forced to do what I've been doing for years. Being still. Discovering that solitude is not loneliness. That being flexible and going with the flow is better than fighting upstream and frustrating yourself. That you cannot always have what you want, when you want it. That some dreams, hopes, plans, people, and even a part of yourself will have to go, released from the grasp of your frightened clutches as you open your hands and say, "I let go". Tears flow, and fears threaten to overwhelm but you find courage in knowing that this is truly the only way forward. To let go is to choose life. 

It's almost like a part of you has to die, so you can keep on living. The thing to do is to recognise that part of you that is dying, stop fighting its demise, release it, grieve over it, and accept that it is gone. The death of any part of us is so painful, partly because we fear change and the unknown. Change is truly the only constant in life. Accept that, and the fact that life is full of all kinds of inescapable loss. Find peace in the loss, and make peace with yourself and the suffering world around you, and maybe find a way to be grateful, both for the good things, and the not so good things in your life. 

I've lived with chronic illness for 24 years now, and letting go has kept me sane. Things do strangely have a way of working out even when we stop fighting for what we desire. We need to let go of what we want and how we think things should be in our lives and accept what is, so we can be at peace, and happy. Sometimes, being still and letting go is the best thing to do.

Wishing my dear FB frens peace and happiness in the midst of our unique, and yet shared, circumstances. Hugs and love to all. Blessed Sunday! ❤

Thanks for reading, 

Pav

I Think I'll Paint A Seascape (26.03.20)

(A post I wrote a year ago as we struggled to make sense of what a pandemic meant)

I had hoped to go for a walk today but my body said "No, you're tired and if you push yourself you'll fall ill". My mind said, "No, there's a lot of irresponsible people out there who aren't self isolating and you can't afford to catch Covid-19 because it could kill you". My heart said, "No, stay home, just roll with it, find something else to do that will bring you peace and joy in a similar way". And so I am painting today. And spring cleaning. And rearranging things in my room so I can make it truly my hideaway. 

Sitting quietly at home, I look at my paints with exotic sounding names like Burnt Sienna, Cobalt Turquoise, Ultramarine Violet, Cadmium Yellow, Pale Olive and Permanent Rose... and I wonder what to paint that will do all these colours justice. A landscape? A seascape? A spacescape? It's all really an escape... into a magical world where you can create anything you want and make something out of nothing. What a privilege that is, to be able to have an outlet like this to do such exciting things in the relative safety of my home.

And I think of the many people unable to stay at home because they have no home. What does it mean to them to "shelter in place" if the only shelter they have known is a street corner or a park bench? What does "lockdown" mean when perhaps it sounds a lot like "lock up" and maybe many are struggling, feeling imprisoned in their homes, unwilling hostages to a ravaging pandemic that makes no distinction between castle owners or slum dwellers. Trapped, perhaps, with family members who are like strangers to them, with nerves fraying and social distancing an impossibility with one room and five people caged like angry bears at a circus. 

I think of those unable to stock up on food because they have no money, and a meal a day is a luxury while a week's food is a fantastical dream come true. Feeding their families is a daily sacrifice, feeding themselves is a daily struggle. What might it mean to some to have hindered access to shops and supermarkets, when they trawl through piles of refuse looking for scraps to feast on? I wonder just how much food a person needs ordinarily, and especially in periods of relative inactivity, and whether consumerism and overconsumption and overeating and just about over anything is so rampant that when we are asked to consume less we become afraid that we won't have enough, and hoarding happens, even as we are carrying around unshed kilos of our own. 

I think of the disabled, the ill and the elderly, overlooked and passed over in normal times as if they existed on the periphery of society, and at times like this, their lives seem even less important, as targets of a deadly virus that will likely kill them off first. Frontline victims, sacrificial lambs in creating herd immunity, dispensable people who have served their purpose in a throwaway society given to measuring our worth in utilitarian terms. They exist, here and now, and someday, you'll be disabled, ill and old yourselves... think kindly of them, sow wisely in your thoughts and deeds towards them because you will reap what you sow when your time comes.

I think of those who have no one to care for them, and possibly worse, no one to care for, and all their life's longing and affection hoarded up in their hearts has had nowhere to go. Their hereto lonely lives have become even lonelier, their small social circles have shrunken in further, and they sit alone in front of the telly, by the phone, wondering if anyone remembers them and regretting their bitterness in the burning of so many bridges that help can no longer easily reach them when they might need it most.

I think of the poor, impoverished and war torn societies around the world, especially the children, for whom a safe home with loving parents, a hot meal, clean drinking water, freshly laundered clothes, a seat in a classroom, a dream of a future, and access to all the wonderful knowledge and beauty in this world is a seemingly impossible goal. And I look at the extravagant wastage amongst the rich, the lavish spending of the wealthy, the billions poured into salvaging an economy and I know without a doubt that we have the resources to heal the world, to eradicate poverty, to educate every child... but it won't happen because the have nots don't matter to those who have. It's every man for himself in a selfish world demarcated by borders and boundaries, race and religion, policies and philosophies, when really all that matters is our common humanity. 

I find myself deeply saddened by the state of the world, guiltily grateful for all that I have, vaguely optimistic that many of us will pull through, and resigned to the fact that some of us will not. I think of the ocean and how much I love sitting and watching the crashing waves smash into rocks and feeling my place in the universe. There, in the face of certain and overwhelming majesty, power and raw beauty, I am tiny. My thoughts, worries and anxieties are many but really, they are tiny. In comparison to everything else, in perspective, and relative to all the suffering in the world today, my tiny, personal worries are miniscule. As I look out across my garden, holed up in my corner of Singapore, I am humbled, and almost ashamed, by all that I have. 

I think I'll paint a seascape.

Thanks for reading, 

Pav

Day 31 in a Month of Gratitude (31st October 2020)

Day 31 of A Month of Gratitude, #AMOG, and it's the last day today. Phew. It's been an experience, and I am #grateful for #gratitude. When I set out to be grateful for one thing in particular everyday, I hoped to develop a sense of thanksgiving, and a continued focus on what is in my life rather than missing from it by rewiring my brain through gratitude. 

I also wanted to be more open, transparent, vulnerable and honest, because I believe in connection through all of that. I wrote and waffled on, or I made videos and waffled on; in short, no matter what medium I chose, I had plenty to say about the one thing I chose to focus on. One might think that finding that one thing is an easy task, but it wasn't, really. I spent up to an hour over the course of each day thinking about people, events, feelings, experiences... and trying to find that one thing that jumped out at me and said, "Be grateful for this!" There were a couple of days when my mind drew a blank, and I felt a little numb, and the whole gratitude exercise seemed tiring, but on those days I kept going, keeping it simple, and not thinking too deeply about things. 

I found that on the days when I really stopped and thought things through, weighed things in my heart and chose to be grateful even if great feelings of gratitude did not appear at the surface or follow soon after... these days were especially vital, authentic, and important to me. Sometimes, I wept as I wrote about why I was grateful, and as I look back now, it was mostly about people, and the feelings they evoked in me that brought tears and healing to my memories and my heart. I chose to practice self compassion, and to be kind to myself in the midst of reliving pain, or a myriad of emotions that rose to the surface with recollections of moments past and their interface with the present. 

Even though the month is over, I plan to continue being grateful, and sharing occasionally with my dear friends who have been very kind, encouraging and inspiring, and who have told me how much they enjoyed my posts and videos. Thank you for reading and watching, I am deeply appreciative, especially since it's all rather lengthy, and a bit of a commitment on your part. It has been such a meaningful exercise and experience for me, to have been able to share my life experiences with others and find that they have found their lives enriched too in some way.

One thing I struggled with along the way was writing about things that were in my life that others might not have had in theirs, or had lost, and I was aware that I might hurt or offend some folks who might feel I was rubbing it in. I decided to keep sharing anyway, because I spent many years in the shadow of others who resented the good things in my life, and I felt that I could never find my voice and express my truth, and it was suppressed. So now, I speak it, I hope others see it for what it is... someone who is struggling, as we all are, to make meaning of difficulty in life and choosing to be grateful and hoping others will be encouraged along their journey. 

I'm not sure if it's FB's algorithms or an explosion of gratitude online, but I have seen so many others writing about things that they are grateful for, sharing their stories, posting videos, narrating their victories over life's struggles and rejoicing in all that they have been given in life. I rejoice with them, and I am so encouraged to be seeing others practicing gratitude in their own way. 

Gratitude leads to contentment; when we see all the good in our lives we can dampen the need or want for more to fill the emptiness of our hearts. If we look to the Giver of all good things, we rejoice because we know He watches over us, our days are in His hands, and we are truly the Beloved of God. I have been grateful for many things these past 31 days, but I think I have gravitated towards people, and feelings evoked by people, nature, and experiences in life. I have come to understand myself and my priorities better, my idiosyncracies and my thought processes too, and best of all, I have come to see how central gratitude is to my well being. 

Spending an hour everyday thinking and writing about gratitude has helped me see all the good in my life, and to remain focussed on it. I remain grateful for some not very good things too... because that's my way of integrating everything and looking for the silver lining helps heal my heart. I intend to keep at it, to remain grateful and to be content. I hope you will consider a season of gratitude, no matter how short, as a way to rewire your brain, learn about yourself, be open to the world, and be content. Share with others or journal it on your own, whatever works best for you. Be grateful! 🙏❤

A pix of us on second son's birthday in September 2020. Time to take a new one soon! 

#AMOG #AMonthOfGratitude #GratefulForGratitude #Contentment #RewireBrain #Thanksgiving #Meaningful #Enriching #Encouragement #Integration #WellBeing #MentalHealth #Authentic #Vulnerable #Honest #Healing #SelfCompassion #Kindness #BelovedOfGod #ContinuedGratitude #IMadeItThroughDayThirtyOne

Thanks for reading, 

Pav

Day 30 in A Month of Gratitude (30th October 2020)

Day 30 in A Month of Gratitude, #AMOG, and today, I am #grateful for my #daughter. After having 2 sons, it was quite a delight to have a little girl, especially a ray of #sunshine that brought her #cheer wherever she went, and for whom shadows vanished as she ran into a room, lighting it up by the sheer presence of a #radiant personality. Watching her run as a child with her hair flying in the wind, and laughing as she played, I was reminded of a horse... a beautiful, strong filly, born in the year of the horse. 

It came as little surprise that she eventually gravitated towards horse riding, though it was first her love of animals in general that drew her, like a magnet, to the massive beasts. She learnt to ride, and compete, had a few tumbles and eventually had to slow down because of the pressures of exams, but watching her interact with the horses, care for them, feed them and love them revealed her deep love for animals. 

Nobody loves our dogs, Frodo and Sam, like she does, they are practically her babies. No one knows them quite the way she does, and it's true, we simply don't. When you're a natural born animal lover you gravitate towards creatures big and small, and you have an affinity for them and they sense it, and they bond with you and love you in return. When she was younger we had rabbits, hamsters, stingrays, fish, dogs... a regular menagerie, and I felt like I was a part of My Family and Other Animals, my fav book by Gerald Durrell. The day her stingrays died due to a malfunction of our pond pump and their extreme sensitivity to changes in water quality, she was away on a Gr 5 school trip overseas. I went to the airport to bring her home, and I told her about their passing, and she wept so sadly. We never replaced the stingrays, partly because their care involved my breeding an aquarium of fresh tiny shrimp to feed the finicky eaters, but partly because we couldnt bear the thought of them dying again. 

When our labradoodle, Frodo, nearly died from eating snail bait poison sprinkled around the garden by the gardener, we rushed him to A and E and found ourselves in tears, though she was utterly devastated at the possibility of him dying. The narrow escape with Sam's intestinal blockage due to her gobbling a chunk of corn on the cob, both the dogs narrowly escaping death by cobra, and Frodo's impending blindness due to a cataract, now rectified... all of these incidents troubled us greatly, but no one felt them as deeply as she did, and she did the most to help and to care for the dogs out of her great affection for them.

They say you can tell the depths of a person's or a society's compassion by the way they treat animals, in which case she must have an endless depth to her compassion. The baby birds that have fallen from the nests in her bathroom planter that have needed rescuing, the cats in the street that needed feeding, the squirrels in the garden that looked hungry and needed food, they all drew her attention. Everywhere we travelled she found animals to love, and at home we had a constant stream of little creatures that she found herself enamoured of, and with whom she felt she had a bond. It was a delight to behold, even when it was a snake, caught and kept in a tank for a few days observation. In all these things, we have been united in our love for animals, and each other. 

She wants to study Zoology, and perhaps Marine Biology as well... and some days I think to myself that I wish I was her. On the brink of great adventures, her life before her, the world her oyster, and so much to look forward to in every way. Of all my children, she has been the one to seize life in her hands and capitalise on every opportunity that has come her way. We dived together on her first SCUBA dives off Cairns, and now she's trying to get her Advanced qualifications and learn to free dive too. We share a love of the ocean and marine life, and diving with her and watching her come alive in the sea is a #joy, something that we share and treasure. 

One of my fav things to do with her is to watch psychological thrillers together. A touch of mystery, an exploration of the human mind, a whiff of horror, a possible murder, maybe some romance, lots of laughs... we  love it all. Snuggling up with her at night and watching a series together is the highlight of my day. We keep finding something to watch together, and I cherish the closeness while it lasts. Exchanging stories of our adventures, our ups and downs, and cheering each other on has been special because it's two women interacting now, and while I am still Ma, she's no longer a child. 

Having a daughter has been a privilege. Loving and being loved by her has been special. A real blessing to have seen her grow up and retain so much of her cheerful sunniness despite clouds coming and going. Mothers and daughters do a dance, and underlying it all is a deep affection and companionship. I try to love her deeply, hold on lightly, let her go, all at the same time. I see so much of me in her, and yet a lot that is not me at all, and I am glad that she isn't a clone of me but a better person in many ways. Glad that she has a strong voice, a deep sense of self, a clear idea of what she wants in life, and a heart of compassion and love. Beauty of soul and strength of spirit rolled into one, like a lovely horse that is a delight to behold. 🐎🐎🐎

I love you more than you can imagine, and than I can ever say or show you, but I know that you know. ❤

Some of my fav pix of my only daughter.  

#AMOG #AMonthOfGratitude #GratefulForDaughter #Horse #AnimalLover  #Strength #Beauty #Compassion #Treasure #Sunshine #Privilege #Companionship #Snuggles #BeautifulSoul #StrongSpirit #Delight #Radiant #Joy #IMadeItThroughDayThirty

Thanks for reading, 

Pav

Day 29 in A Month of Gratitude (29th October 2020)

Day 29 of A Month of Gratitude #AMOG, and today, I am #grateful for #eldestson. He's the #pioneer who paved the way for his siblings, and made a mother out of me.  I still remember how excited I was at the prospect of motherhood, and how I read every help book, attended ante-natal classes, and was overjoyed to see him growing on ultrasound scans. 

Of course, giving birth isn't quite like the books say it is, and nothing really prepares you for it or for motherhood. What a wild ride it has been! Eldest son was the most cheerful of babies though, fairly easy to care for, very active, and such a bundle of joy that we happily had more kids. Why not, when eldest son was so much fun? 

I remember one fine Saturday evening, when he was a few months old, he started screaming his lungs out, and I thought he was going to burst his gut or something scary, so we bundled him off to the GP down the road. As soon as we left the house, he cheered up, smiled at everyone he saw, and was happy once again. In fact, he was totally healthy too, as the GP told us while charging us $40 for the consult. As first time parents we had no idea which cry was the "I want to go for a walk, just being home all day with you two is rather dull!" cry. We received an education that day. Eldest son needs so much more of a social milieu than just his parents. 

Another early lesson we learnt was never to entirely trust junior doctors. We took eldest son for his 3 month baby check up at a polyclinic, and a junior doctor decided to test his eyesight. She moved a pen in front of his face as he sat attentively on my lap, and suddenly, her face fell, and she said, "Your son may be blind, let me consult my senior doctor", and she scampered off, leaving us bewildered. Our son may be blind?! What? I looked at him and was sure he looked right back at me, and our hearts pounded in our chests as we wondered if our son hadn't been seeing us for 3 whole months and we were clueless! Senior doctor came back, ran a test or two and established what I had always known... he wasn't blind! Oh thank God, eldest son just didn't think junior doctor's pen was worth his effort and time. He preferred human faces!

As a toddler, he loved running everywhere he went, and engaging in conversations with everyone. Active, and chatty, he made friends easily, and had a group of admirers at the playground who enjoyed playing with him in the evenings. He also had a deep sense of perceiving injustice and unfairness at an early age. I'll always remember him offering part of his lunch to the helper at the table next to us at a restaurant... she wasn't allowed to eat while her employers enjoyed a sumptuous lunch, so eldest son offered his food to her. She smiled and declined, but in that moment, I saw his #generous and #compassionate heart, and I knew he felt for the oppressed. 

I've learnt a lot about eldest son over the years. He's #smart and #charming, loves activity and company and has friends from a wide range of backgrounds, is a very loyal friend, is street smart and savvy, and he doesn't do things that are a waste of his time and effort. He will side with the underdog whenever he can, and has a keen interest in human rights, being quite unable to stand by and see others suffer. He can also see right through people and ascertain the truth of situations quite easily; he isn't blind at all. 

Whenever good opportunities come his way, he brings his friends along for the ride. You can count on him to come through for you, to be there in your darkest of times, and to be generous and genuinely loving of those he calls his tribe. Watching him grow and evolve over time has been a treat. An open heart and a loving soul who truly cares and gives of himself despite his own struggles, he's always there when others need him. 

My fav thing to do with him is to watch something together because we have similar tastes, especially with science fiction, war movies, historical series, human rights stories, social justice and civic movements and all their struggles... these sorts of things are a shared connection that we explore from time to time. A recommendation of a movie from him is always worth considering because he recognises a quality production that usually resonates with me. A discussion about it segues to chats on current affairs, affairs of the heart, and a general check in with how we are doing. Precious moments, and cherished memories. 

A look from eldest son when I am down is all it takes for me to cheer up. His look says either, "Are you alright, everything okay?" or "Are you alright, please be okay!" and in both cases, I am okay, because he wishes it, and because his well being is wrapped up in mine and vice-versa. What a privilege it has been to have had eldest son show me the ropes as a first time mum. I have often felt so inadequate, and wondered if I was doing enough as a chronically ill mother. I look at eldest son, and the lovely person that he is today, and I am happy and grateful. 

Thank you for being you... you are a joy to my heart. I love you more than I can ever express. 

Pix of us in May 2016 when he commissioned as 2Lt, and on holiday in Melbourne in 2018. 

#AMOG #AMonthOfGratitude #GratefulForEldestSon #Pioneer #MadeAMumOutOfMe #BundleOfJoy #Smart #Charming #Active #Chatty #Cheerful #LoyalFriend #Generous #Compassionate #StreetSmartAndSavvy #ChampionsUnderdogs #HumanRights #SimilarTastes #SciFiFans #JoyToMyHeart #IMadeItThroughDayTwentyNine

Thanks for reading, 

Pav

Day 28 in A Month of Gratitude (28th October 2020)

Day 28 in A Month of Gratitude, #AMOG, and today I am #grateful for my #Mother aka Ma. My mother was born in Singapore in 1941, and left shortly thereafter for the Punjab, to hide out in her father's village, Mugal Chakh, during WW2 with her mother and brothers and cousins. Once the war was over, they returned to Singapore, and began their formal schooling. My uncles went to ACS and then to the University of Malaya in Singapore. My mother went to RGS and then went to Teacher's Training College (TTC) in Singapore. My father, from KL, and my uncle were uni mates, studying History, and that's how he met my mother and romance blossomed. 

My mother graduated from TTC at the age of 19, got married, and left for Malaysia with my father, where she taught in schools in KL and Penang. Eventually, she returned to Singapore with us for a few years, and I remember her zipping about in her jaunty Datsun, attending meetings at the Istana to organise fund raisers for Children's Charities, and being the life of the party wherever she went. 

My mother's cooking is legendary. Her curries are especially a delight, and anybody who has eaten her cooking never forgets it. Her hospitality and generosity of spirit are such  that anyone who visited us was often back again. Dinners with her famed mutton curry, chicken curry, mixed veggie masala, dhal, salads, vadais in yogurt, chapatis... all lovingly made by her, have fed many who came through our doors, and it was all washed down afterwards with her milky, spicy masala tea. 

My mother has a witty sense of humour, and a way with words. Her old school style of writing, and in perfect cursive script, belies her schooling, when English was taught grammatically, and handwriting reflected personality and character. She speaks multiple languages fluently, and has a warbling soprano that reminds me of a nightingale. She loves God with all her heart and graduated from Bible School at 62 years, so she could be a better equipped missionary in Nepal, having braved the jungles and wild boars of Borneo years before on mission trips. Her faith has sustained her throughout her life, and she has a fierce love for God. 

She taught me to swim when I was tiny, at the Singapore Swimming Club, where we swam on Saturdays after watching Sesame Street and munching chicken wings at home. She was a pioneer in her own way, boldly blazing a trail where many women had not yet gone. As a trainee teacher, she went on swimming trips to the coast and islands with colleagues, returning late and causing her father so much concern that he almost called the police once. She is, in my opinion, a beautiful soul ahead of her time. 

Her strength and courage in facing life's struggles and challenges have inspired me. It was really only after having my own children that I really appreciated what it meant to be a mother, and how much I loved my own mother, and the great debt that I owed her. And how many times I had unknowingly broken her heart just by being insensitive and uncaring. She did so much for us, on her own, and for her many sacrifices and her unconditional love I shall always remain grateful.

My Ma turns 80 in January, and we had hoped to gather in KL to celebrate this milestone. It looks like we might not make it. I miss her laughter, her hugs, her chats and her cheery outlook on everything despite her difficulties. I can't wait to see her again and bask in her love and affection and love her back in person. I miss you, Ma. Stay well and stay safe, and see you soon. We live in hope! ❤

Pix of Ma at age 19. Graduated, Married. 

#AMOG #AMonthOfGratitude #GratefulForMother #Ma #UnconditionalLove #Teacher #Linguist #Songbird #Legendary #Hospitality #Generosity #GreatCook #BeautifulSoul #Cheerful #Witty #Strength #Courage #Sacrificial #Hugs #AheadOfHerTime #RGS #TTC #BestMaEver #IMadeItThroughDayTwentyEight

Thanks for reading,

Pav