the last thing on your mind.

last seen at ... 5.06 p.m.

Last message I read had a timestamp of 5.06 p.m.

I may already be 30 but I've discovered that I still find pleasure in all the simple pleasures in life 

-- like knowing that I was the last thing on your mind.

oh yes, I am OK.

The other day, my mother in law dropped me a one-liner, which got me thinking. It was in relation to her question of whether or not I was okay, which, honest to God, is a question I try answering honestly to myself first, every single day. 

I ask myself the question every single day, because it seems like alot of other people around me are curious about the same as well. 

Why is your blog private? 

Why is your Insta feed so quiet?

Why is the tone of your posts so different?

Why are you so different?

And although most days I feel OK, the rest of the world seem to feel otherwise and whether or not I care about what they think or feel, I know that those who have taken the time to ask me personally are those who really, truly care because they made the decision to not gossip about me and my so-called change, but thought it would be better to ask me directly instead. 

So, anyway. When I told my mother in law that I was "OK je. Biasa lah stress sikit-sikit.", she then asked me again what I was stressed out about, to which I answered... "Sa tak tahu lah, Mak..."

And then, she dropped it, 

"Stress tak tahu punca ni lah stress yang paling bahaya."

So, it got me thinking about what it was that I was actually stressed out about because I've been told that unidentified sources of stress could lead to that thing we all know as... depression. 

And although I am pretty sure that I am not depressed because there's really no reason to be depressed, I do know that not many people (probably myself included) are willing to accept and admit that they are suffering from such condition. 

In my attempts to ensure that I am of optimum mental health, I went through my blog posts (thank God, I love writing crap) to find a lead of some sort and my discovery shocked me.

This year has been a year of too much self-loathing. Too many meltdowns. Too many regrets over "failed attempts at perfection". Too much drama. Too much inner conflict. Too much negativity. Too much change. Too much bottling up. Too much caving in.  

This year in a nutshell has been a year of too many too muches, if there is such a thing. 

Be that as it may, since I woke up this morning with a spring in my step, I've made a mental pact with myself to acknowledge and celebrate each day that I wake up happy, just so the final quarter of this year doesn't go to waste.

Sure, I've been feeling a little sucky (a little, yeah right bahahaha) in 2015, but in sha Allah, I'll be OK. 

And just for the record, today, I am OK.

beautiful soul.

It was a Saturday night and we were driving back from my Aunty's house after buka puasa. Luqman (the radio-hogger) was in another car so we had the radio to ourselves! Yippee! Since my car battery went dead on me a few weeks back, we lost all our favourite radio stations so my husband was unable to find LiteFM (yes, LITEFM). We finally found the station and a few minutes after, Jesse McCartney's Beautiful Soul was aired. 

You should have seen how happy we were to finally hear something decent (and familiar) on air! Jesse McCartney was playing! On LiteFM! The station that plays Classic Hits All Day... (!!!) Ok... 

Then it hit me -- we're old. I'd like to say that we're just older but no (please, Beautiful Soul is considered classic ok), we're actually old. 

And we both grew older together. 

I started dating him from about a decade ago.

We planned on getting married, almost didn't get married, and then we got married.

We had a child together. And we want more together.

We survived a 6-month long distance relationship. And we both had to relearn how to live together again, together.

We bought a house together. And we now live in it together. 

And despite all the togetherness, we still argue and fight and cry (well, I cry) to try and figure out what's going on in each other's mind; or what we both feel; or what's making either one of us happy or not.

Even after all this while. 

And then, it hit me again -- of how much our relationship has changed (or evolved, more like) and how that has changed him, changed me, and changed us. Or is it really that he changed, and I changed and we changed, and that's why our relationship too, has changed? I can't quite figure out which is which and what came first. 

All I know is that we're somewhat different than when we first started. 

And although I know that we can't be 15 or 25 forever (and I don't want to be 15 forever) and growing up and living this journey called life just has to be done before we are called to meet our Creator someday, I can't help but miss... us. Yes, US. The goofy couple who walked through the rain to get me my Theodore. The crazy couple who surprised each other by getting on a bus just to spend a couple of hours at the bus station eating KFC. The simple couple who used to make some random 45 minutes in the week the best date in months. I also miss those times when smartphones were a thing of the unknown and that when we were together, we didn't have anyone else "third-wheeling"-- just us.

Of course we had a kid, and that changed us. Of course, we moved house and that too, changed us. 

But I can't help but miss the US that I once knew. 

And that tiny glimpse of us on that Saturday night made me realise that deep down somewhere, both of us were still there, albeit (majorly) altered. We just have to work harder to fall in love with a different version of the same person, I guess?

Because beneath all our alterations, I'm pretty sure that there is still that beautiful soul we once knew (plus of course that guy and girl who still loves to sing along to Beautiful Soul and every other classic hits we grew up listening to, of course). 

Maybe we'll live and learn, maybe we'll crash and burn
maybe you'll stay, maybe you'll leave,
maybe you'll return...
maybe another fight, maybe we won't survive,
maybe we'll grow,
we'll never know,
'cause baby you and I,
we're just ordinary people,
we don't know which way to go. 

 

there are way bigger priorities past 530 pm.

Everyday at 530 pm, I wonder how to explain (to insert black space _________) that I've been up for a good 13-14 hours and that I've been working round the clock since hence the pressing need for me to head back home. Wait, scratch that; explaining is not the problem, making people understand is.

At a work place where the hours or rather after hours are the determinant of one's productivity, I find myself treading on eggshells as 530 pm approaches and planning escape routes has become one of my biggest agendas on a working day. Though pretty amusing at first, I really am starting to get a little agitated over the fact that I'm made to feel guilty or worse -- incompetent just because I don't function too well past the prescribed working hours. 

Thing is this -- apart from having to keep my job, I have a kid to raise, a husband who needs and deserves love and also a home to maintain. I know I've got to juggle but what is there to juggle if I'm not actually given the opportunity to juggle anything since my hands are already full of one and the same thing (work).

Don't get me wrong, I really do not condone people using personal reasons/problems to wriggle their way out of their responsibilities at work because once we make the decision to work, we must learn to earn our keep. So my issue isn't at all about the work itself but rather the ridiculous fact that I have to justify (and feel guilty) going back home on time because it's considered as too early.

But how much longer does Luqman have to bear being the last to go home from school EVERYDAY.

How much longer can I bear sitting round being unproductive just to please the powers that be. 

What can I do to make people understand that the after hours don't mean a thing to me and that I'm not in this to compete with anybody's accumulated monthly overtime. 

Because honestly, there are wayy bigger priorities past 530 pm, such as this - 

Spot the star - he drew it on his own. And oh, did you know -- he's ambidextrous!

On that note, I really miss my old work station, which had plenty of natural light, far away from surveillance, where I did more work at my own pace and convenience (and got them done) with very minimal supervision. 

*Sigh*

it was all in my head.

 "Dimulakan dengan Bismillah, diakhiri dengan Alhamdulillah."

 -Raihan

 The above is so basic. But basic may not always come naturally to everyone.

In this time and age, I find that we are quick to critique and slow to thank.

And of course, I am no exception to this general rule.

But then again, it's not that I don't try to. It's just that on some days...

Some days, like the other day on 155/365, I lost it, just.like.that. At first, I was just fuming and babbling to myself, then, I went into full-on rage mode, yelling and scolding my son (the obvious victim) and while he cried his heart out for the the first 2 times I yelled at him, the third time it happened, he just stopped crying. He stopped responding to my yelling altogether and just looked up to me with eyes full of wonderment; most probably wondering what on earth did he do wrong this time.

Truth is, he did nothing wrong. He was just being his own clingy, manja self and all he wanted was his Mama. And I? I was just wondering why there seem to be no end to the string of things I had to do. I felt alone in a room full of people, I felt like I was alone in everything that I did. I felt like it was all on me, me and me. For no good reason, really.

After I realised what I did, I knelt down to his level, hugged him and apologised profusely for what I did.

And you know what he did?

He hugged me back, and said,

"It's okay, Mama. Jom semayang sama-sama?"

And laid his mini sejadah next to mine.

Next thing I know, I was crying. When we were done with our prayers, he sat on my lap and looked right into my eyes.

"Mama nangis ke?" he said while he wiped my tears.

"Mama tak sihat ke?" and he continued to hug me tight.

And he said all of this, in the pitch-darkness of the room.

All waterworks broke lose. 

At that time, I came to the realisation that all this while, I was never alone. Allah had sent me this little angel from heaven, put him in my womb so he could hear my heart beating from the inside, so that he would know what it feels like, even when he was on the outside--- looking in.

I was so busy getting things done, and being so obsessive about putting things in order, that I forgot to say my thanks, especially to Allah, for all the things I have been blessed with; for the roof on top of my head, for an amazing husband, for a wonderful child and an overall very blessed life, which many can only dream of ever having.

Thereafter, I tried my best to be grateful for all the little things, all the big things, all the right things, all the wrong things. And I tried my best not to bottle things up too much, too long. Because I now realise that it was all in my head. And what's in my head can really get to me, like it had previously gotten to me.

But like I said in my previous post, I am a work in progress. I guess to a certain extent we all are because though we sometimes think that we've got it all figured out, we really don't. Indeed, Allah is the turner of hearts. So we should never be so sure.

What we can be sure of is -

 that Allah promises, "Verily with hardship comes ease." (Quran, 94:5).

So, look for a good in every bad. And be thankful, no matter what the situation.

And most importantly, don't let your head, get to your head because get this -- life isn't perfect, for anyone.

"We say this life isn't perfect. And it isn't. It isn't perfectly good. But, it isn't perfectly bad, either... [..] I think the trap we fall into is rooted in the belief that this life can be perfect -- perfectly good or perfectly bad. However, that's not the nature of dunya (this life). That's the nature of the hereafter. The hereafter is saved for the perfection of things. Jannah (paradise) is perfectly and completely good. There is no bad in it. And Jahannam (hell - may Allah protect us) is perfectly and completely bad. There is no good in it." (Reclaim Your Heart, Yasmin Mogahed)

that time of year.

Bismillah. 

After almost a month of disconnect from this space, I am happy to report that I am almost whole again. Only almost, but Alhamdulillah, I am getting "there", wherever it is.

Just one more sleep 'til Ramadan comes (well, technically it starts after Maghrib tonight, I know) and the office is already buzzing with excitement for the arrival of the most-waited, most-anticipated, most-loved month of the Islamic Calendar. 

Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, just thinking about the strange (but nice) tranquility that comes with the early mornings and late nights and everything else in between that makes it all the more special.

I am sorry to all my readers if I've disappointed or hurt or caused any harm through my posts whether intentionally or not and I hope that my sins to all of you will be forgiven (and hopefully forgotten). 

May this Ramadan be better than the best ones we've had so far, may we be steadfast in prayer and may we be given the chance and opportunity to make full use of all the blessings that this month brings.

Amin.

untuk apa (siapa), sebenarnya?

It's been a while.

Before I continue, I'm going to forewarn you that this post may make my previous post sound like a total fraud. But this is necessary because each time I think about writing about all things good, I always come back to this particular part of my life, wherein I feel like THIS; this indescribable emptiness despite the rainbows and butterflies in my life

And to be honest, I think it's contributed by my not feeling fulfilled at work, where I spend most of hours in a day.

xxx

 

When I was working with my former boss, I used to question her alot on the reasons behind the things she did, out of sheer curiousity. And most of the time, she would tell me that she does the things she does not just to please her superiors or bosses, but rather because that's just who she is.

She always told me that we've got to be proud of our work, no matter how little the work is; and that our work is a reflection of ourselves. It doesn't matter that our friends think our job scope is the least exciting out of all the fields of law or that we aren't real lawyers because we don't go to court. What's important is that WE do the best we can do with the work given and that WE KNOW we have given it our all.

And for a long, long while, it made sense. It made me work real hard. It made me exceed my own expectations. I was doing it for me and it felt good, no matter how much it seemed like I wasn't being recognised for all the things I did and that my disposition seem to have been misinterpreted (rather grossly if I may add) by those who didn't work with me.

It kept me going, even after I stopped working for my former boss.

 

xxx

 Until recently, something broke me. Or rather, something in me broke. 

I started asking questions which I never asked. I started counting hours which I never counted. I started wondering whether there was anything in all of this for me at all. I started wondering if any of all of this was worth it. I didn't know if all my efforts would be paid off, some day, some how.

And I hated myself for being so calculative. I hated myself for being so unlike me. 

xxx

I wish I could tell you that I'm now out of the dark, but sadly, I'm not. This is probably one of the longest periods of time I've been deflated and demotivated over things which are beyond my control (which I'd rather not elaborate) and I'm honestly trying to climb out of this hell hole so that I can say hi to the old Hanisa again.

And so that I could continue to blog about my everyday mishmash to my heart's content (hopefully this out of the blue post would start the ball rolling).

Until I pick up my broken pieces and fix myself up again, watch this space for me (I really do miss blogging). 

♥

some kind of wonderful.

Five weeks after the Big Move, I have finally come to terms with the fact that the transition from one white empty space to the other wasn't ever going to be as smooth sailing as I initially thought it would be. Don't know why the "perfectionist" part of my brain tricked me into thinking that the whole move would be seamless, but I've had to wrestle with it a little to convince it that "otherwise" was just as okay. Hehe.

Now that we've gotten used to our new morning routines and the unpredictable traffic and our packing-unpacking-repeat activities are coming to an end (like, finally!), I can finally actually feel with all my heart how grateful I am for everything I have been blessed with so far.

It's some kind of surreal, if you ask me. And some kind of wonderful too.

 Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah for everything.

 

go like never before.

101/365 was a couple of weeks ago.

Apart from the Big Move, I have got to admit that it was THE most anticipated weekend of 2015 because it was the only weekend that we or rather I knew what I would be doing; running my first 11.2 km for the year. Wait, scratch that; running my first competitive run, ever.

We made a pact; we would all sleep, even if we didn't feel like sleeping. I had a run that night and my husband had a basketball game the following morning. After all the packing-unpacking-repeat episodes we've had for about 3 weeks prior to 101/365, SLEEP really was the one thing we were lacking. 

So, sleep we did. 

When I woke up, I took a bath, waited to perform my Maghrib prayers and got ready for the Run. 

And just. like. that. came the rain, complete with lightning and thunder and all. 

I kept asking my husband for his opinion on what I should do. I knew what I wanted but I couldn't do it without knowing what he wanted. So, he told me that he would rather if I didn't run. Not because it was raining, because that was pretty normal... but because there was lightning and thunder and all. He said he would rather if I didn't. And my heart dropped.

Thing is, he knew that despite all my previous doubts and anxiety, I really was looking forward to that particular weekend. So he sent me to the venue anyway and told me to promise not to run if things got real bad. And by the look of things, I knew that I wasn't going to run that night. 

I kept of scrolling through the Twitter and FB updates from the organisers and at some point, I was already queuing to get my goodie bag and medal... when the rain STOPPED. And they announced that the first flag off would be at 8.45 p.m.

I got out of queue and stepped behind the Start Line.

Alhamdulillah, even though I didn't go as fast as I could have, I managed to run 8.2 km without stopping (only because I got a stomachache at the last 3!!!) and somehow managed to sprint the last 200 metres to the Finish Line.

I proudly finished my "Quarter Marathon" in 1:43:45 (net time). 

And I think it's somewhat contributed by the words of wisdom I found at the very last minute when I was still doubting myself- forever asking if I could - 

"I'm a runner because I run. Not because I run fast. Not because I run far."

Of course, I'm also ever so grateful for 2 of my biggest cheerleaders for cheering me on.

Already registered for my next competitive run (TMFR), so yeah... bring it on!

at least we tried to have it all...

There's a Whatsapp group in which both my husband and I are participants. But the rest don't know that we're married. 

Just a couple of days back, as we were discussing some issues, I volunteered to take on a task, which the others seem uncomfortable/unsure of taking on. For that, I received multiple thank yous, including one from my own husband. After he expressed his gratification and offer to help, he gave me a wink (yes, the icon!). And I let out a giggle, like a little girl who had just been flirted with. 

All in the Whatsapp group which didn't know that we're husband and wife. 

The whole situation really is a funny situation, you know; people treating us like we're not married, like we're not even friends, like we're perfect strangers who are just helping each other for the common good. Maybe when the rest find out that we're really a couple (married some more), we're going to get it, but for now, we kind of think that this flirting in the group thing is cute. 

If you ask me, I do think that all this playfulness is actually pretty timely.   

Lately, we've gone through huge changes in our lives. Big move, bigger space, bigger expenses, less money, less time and the list goes on. With so many changes going on, you can imagine the toll it takes on an otherwise perfectly healthy relationship. And the amount of strength it takes to persevere and soldier on in all attempts to make things work. 

Speaking of which, we've also been talking about how couples (some of which are our own acquaintances) have gone back to each other after a huge fight (whether due to money, abuse or cheating, among others) and make things work. I don't care to find out for myself (harap simpang) but I'm too chicken to ask them because seriously, who does that... but I do honestly, genuinely wonder. My husband and I have theorised about the many reasons why people make or break in all our resolve to not fall into the same boat, but we've also concluded that nothing is certain. 

So, at every opportunity we get to lighten things up between us, we do. Even if it seems really silly or funny. Because in the event anything does go terribly wrong (I hope never), at least we'd know that we tried to have it all.

 

don't know if I (still) can.

I don't know why I thought I could in the very first place, but I at the time I signed up and paid RM60 to join the Shape Night Run, I knew that I could. I also thought that the renovation works would be over and done with by CNY and that we would now be staying at our New Place. But in reality, we're still tying up so many loose ends and have yet to pack a single thing in our current home. 

On top of that, Endomondo has been sending me motivational emails to encourage me to carry on with my training. Dalam bahasa kasarnya, it's telling me that it's time I get off my lazy butt. 

Thing is, I am far from lazy. I am just fatigued. To the core. And I swear I'm not even exaggerating the truth. I never understood why my mom used to feel so tired all the time when they were renovating the Bangi House but having gone through the experience of dealing with so many people and so many unmet timelines (yes, unfortunately), I totally get it now. I just don't feel like I'm up for anything. At all.

  I told this to my husband and told him of my intention to pull out from the Shape Night Run. So he told me to think of the many things I could have bought with the RM60 which I paid earlier and after spending so much money on the house, I for one, would really hate to waste that RM60. That, and the fact that I am not a quitter... so pulling out is so not me.

So, I went for my training last few days and it wasn't so bad--stamina-wise. The only thing bothering me right now is how badly my calves sting after I hit the 5 km mark and I need to go beyond the 5 km mark because... when I signed up earlier, I just had to challenge myself to join the 11.2 km since I thought of all the things I thought in first para above. 

I'll be needing loads of luck now. 

That, and a whole lot of training too. 

I really don't know if I still can. But I know that I should. Coz I'm a survivor, I'm going to make to it, I will survive, keep on surviving! 

#tibetibe