Author name: rosslynchay

Saying no even to the kindest intention

Essay / By /

Yes, I’m telling you it’s ok, really. Perfectly alright to say “no” even to the kindest intentions of others. Because what they deem best for you may not always be best for you. It may be the truth in their eyes, but it may not be your truth.

Others are free to express their thoughts and concerns for you but it doesn’t mean you are obliged to take them on. What they are offering are perspectives and possibilities for your consideration, but at the end of the day, you have a say. I repeat, you have a say.

Don’t betray yourself because you feel bad rejecting their kind intentions. Don’t give yourself away out of fear that they may not accept you if you are not following their words. Don’t suppress your truth out of fear of hurting them. Don’t. You have power but you are not so powerful that you can make another feel sad or angry. Only our thoughts can make us feel that way. As you are learning to say “no”, they are also learning to receive.

One can reject suggestions, and still appreciate the goodwill of others. We can hold both at the same time, it’s not one or the other. You can pause to appreciate the relationship you hold with the other; the care and love the other has for you to be invested to want the best for you. You can choose to place your attention on the love you’ve received and express your gratitude. You don’t have to oblige to show you’re grateful. 

While those around you are invested in you, will you be invested in yourself too? 

If you pause a moment to ask yourself and listen, towards which direction is your heart pulling you? Perhaps it’s not clear initially, especially if you have not been giving your heart the attention it deserves. 

Slowly. 

Once it’s aware you are listening, it will show you the way. Also, when you slow down and pause to check-in with yourself, you can better detect any dissonance indicating you may not have been true to yourself. It may arise as a gnawing feeling, as though something is eating you up from the inside. It may leave traces of sadness or resentment, or even helplessness. Whenever you go along with something that doesn’t sit completely right with you, you will feel as though you have lost a tiny bit of yourself. And I’m telling you, all these tiny bits add up. Over time, you condition yourself to mute your voice and give your power away; you condition yourself to believe those things don’t matter. 

But those things matter. Your truth matters.
Because you matter.

And if you also care for the others, be fair to them. Give them a chance to hear you speak, to know you better.

So, my invitation to you, my dear, will you be courageous and show up, one step at a time?

Here’s a small exercise for you.

Part I:
Recall an event when you went along with someone’s suggestion/idea without acknowledging or revealing your true thoughts.

  • Write down in your journal, in as much detail as possible, your thoughts, feelings, and sensations that arose from that event.
  • Re-read your journal and consider one small action you could have done differently.
  • After that, consolidate your learnings by writing it in the format below:

“I appreciate how you care for me when you ______________________, and this is how I truly think/feel about this issue, ___________________________________.”

Part II:
Ready to push it further?
Try saying what you’ve written out loud. Have a conversation with a loved one or friend and express your truth to him/her.

On Being: Compassion

Essay / By / ,

An angel doesn’t always show up with wings. It glows in your darkest hour, whispering the divine messages meant only for you, once you open your heart to it. I met one and she gifted me a lesson on compassion.

When no longer separate from those around us, we experience a complete moment of compassion.

Mark Nepo

Daryl’s maternal grandmother passed away in September 2017. She lived till a ripe age of 92 before she was put on palliative care to relieve her suffering during the last of her days. It was a pity I did not have many opportunities to interact with her over her last three years. Her outward appearance, like most elders of her age, was an adorable Ah-Ma. Yet in her, I witnessed the embodiment of strength and benevolence. 

She loved flowers, and I enjoyed getting her flowers occasionally. To me, it felt like one little thing I could do to bring some light to her day. I was grateful for that chance. Whenever she smiled while admiring the flowers, it brought me as much joy as well, or maybe more, to know that my little effort could bring joy to another.

In Ah-Ma’s last three years, she was admitted into the hospital almost once each year. Each stay, lasting two weeks to a month, was a period of distress for her and her family. Her lungs had weakened and couldn’t work at a sufficient rate to expel the carbon dioxide in her body. Other complications like a weakening heart and kidneys added to the stress. She had difficulty breathing on her own, a mask was required to push oxygen into her almost every day and night. The mask would feel extremely uncomfortable if one doesn’t breathe in-sync with it. As a healthy person looking through it, claustrophobic, it was hard imagining how it was for her. Coupled with her dementia, there were moments when she woke up in delirium, frantically pulling the mask and tube off her. The nurses had to resort to tying her down, which aggravated her emotional state.

One of the nights before Daryl sent me home, I asked if he would like to drop by the hospital again. I wasn’t sure where that came from, but I had a sense the trip would put him at ease. So we went. Back in the ICU, Ah-Ma was having a difficult time sleeping, struggling to get the restraints off her. A painful sight, it was hard to bear.

Instinctively, I searched for the small pillow that Daryl’s aunt brought earlier, placed it diagonally over her chest, and patted her on the left side of her chest lightly. The Heart Sutra chant was playing softly in the background, and I patted her along with the chant’s rhythm. Ah-Ma calmed down gradually, my breathing too, steadied with the rate of my patting. It was as though everything with a rhythm in the room at that moment was beating synchronously. Our breaths, the rate of the air pump, my patting, the Heart Sutra all singing the same tune, matching each other’s beat. 

Breaths. In-sync? 
A foreign and new sensation. 
“I felt pain and suffering, was it mine or Ah-Ma’s?
“My hushes to comfort, was it for myself or Ah-Ma?
“Was I holding her or was she holding me?”

These questions raced through my head that night after Daryl had dropped me home. I replayed that scene in my head, attempting to comprehend what I had experienced in the ICU.

“We were one,” my soul whispered.
Warmth radiated from my heart. 

That moment in the ICU, there were just Ah-Ma and me in a bubble, glowing. Our glow enveloped the entire room. That moment, we were simply two souls, connected, breathing as one—com-pati.

There’s no you, nor me.
Just us, no separation, feeling into each other’s pain, suffering together.

What does it mean to show up?

Essay / By /

How many of us can say that we actually show up to life every moment, every day? Many of us hide behind masks and labels to get through life.
“I have to do/be… so that…”
“I have to do/be… if not…”
“What if they don’t accept me?”
“What if they think I’m …?”
Sound familiar? The list of excuses goes on.

What happens when we constantly hide behind those masks? What happens when we run away or suppress our authentic selves? We gradually lose touch with them and over time, we forget who we really are and what we stand for. And once the moment arises when we lose the reason to put on that mask, or circumstances force us to drop that mask, we can get disoriented. We can feel so lost, our world crumbles. That identity we fought so hard to create is no more than a temporary facade.

I used to hide behind my job. When I was in my role as a designer, I could call forth the strength and courage to introduce solutions or fight for my beliefs. I had no issue introducing myself as a designer, it was my pride. However, when I left my role, I felt empty. Who was I without my work? Who was I, truly, when I’m just in my own skin? That set me on a journey to find and return to myself.

How about you, dear one?
Tell me, who are you without labels?

Why do we not show up to life?

Because we are human and part of being human is the need for connection and belonging. We fear not being accepted by others. I know I do, do you?

It’s good to acknowledge the fear for it’s perfectly normal to feel it. It’s part of our survival DNA to ensure that we belong socially for safety and security. After acknowledging your fear, we can start to further examine the truth in our beliefs and actions. You see, belonging is different from fitting in; we need to discern between them.

Belonging and fitting in

When we fit in, we change ourselves and accommodate to be accepted. When we belong, we consider how we might find or create a community where we are accepted for who we are. You don’t have to hide the pieces that make you different. Instead, you can share your whole self to cultivate meaningful relationships.

True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.

Brene Brown

So, have you been fitting in or belonging?

Showing up means being who we truly are—in our authentic selves, our essence.

To show up can manifest differently for each of us. For me, showing up comes in the form of taking care of myself and my needs, standing up for my beliefs, sharing my voice when it’s called for (regardless of how it will be received), staying when anxiety prompts me to leave, leaving when fear cripples me to stay. Showing up means being true to myself. Often though, fear and anxiety still get in the way, but I keep going. Each day, I leave, only to return to myself.

Showing up can feel vulnerable. It takes courage and hard work, and it can be extremely uncomfortable initially. Like an underused muscle, the initial workout sessions will always be tough. You may experience flushes of anxiety, shame, or discomfort when you become self-conscious about how you may appear to others or how others may receive you. You may surprise people who have known you under an old label or mask.

Yes, it’s tough, that’s why it’s a form of self-work. And it’ll get easier, I promise.

As you continue to show up authentically, things change and others change. Your courage to show up will infect others. You, showing up will allow room for others to show up as well. This work—should you choose to undertake it every day for yourself—is special and sacred.

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.

E.E Cummings

So, are you ready, to join me in this battle?
Are you willing to show up, from hereon?

I see you and I want to see more of you.

…so don’t be afraid to let them show
your true colors
true colors are beautiful…

Life, without my mother

Journal / By /

Throughout my life thus far, I wished somebody had told me how life would be without my mother. Regardless of how good or bad, nurturing or annoying mothers can get, a life absent of one to love or hate, fight or resent, hug or hide from, still makes a world of difference.

Before 2018, my life was divided into two parts: before my mother passed, and after. Despite enjoying some of the milestones one can achieve in life—graduation, first job, promotion, women’s illness, etc, things are just not quite the same without her. On some random days, like an untimely or irregular period, the tap leaks and my eyes well. The memories of her would infiltrate, finding their way to the main projector for repeat screening; what follows would be an outpour, choking and drowning my heart.

I wished I was told I would be vacillating between various feelings:
of resilience and desire to include her share of life, missed, and burn boldly and brightly;
of joy and gratitude to have shared happy times with her;
of guilt, for moving forward and having lived till this day without her; and
of fear that I may forget how she looked and how she sounded.

I had been afraid the memories of her would fade with new memories made from each day of living. Afraid I was, to live, to make new memories. Worried, that like a computer, my storage would run out and I would be forced to overwrite existing data of her. Turns out our brains do not have this limit.

Each year of aging felt increasingly uncomfortable, especially after I hit my thirties. Birthdays are special but painful as well. I felt trapped, in this weird body, when I look at pictures of her. There were moments when I recognized her but not myself. She has not aged but I have. In another three years’ time, I will be looking at myself in the mirror and be greeted by a reflection who looks older than her. And even till that age, I’m certain there will still be moments I will be crying for her, crying for my mother.

I wished I was told the grief never really ends. This, I have seen in others too, who are in the same predicament. The sorrow remains, even when you grow to become a wife, a mother, a grandmother. That special bond; a spiritual cord binding mothers and their children, how can one get over it easily? It’s normal and it’s okay, there is nothing wrong in feeling sad even after decades or more of losing the one who brought you to this world. We can still grieve and not let it cripple us, nor suffocate and deprive us of living our own lives.

It’s still amazing at times when I reflect and appreciate how far I’ve come, how I’ve managed each day without her. Truth is, I did. Unimaginable as it gets, I’ve come to know the undying spirit in me to live. Almost instinctual. Have you felt a life force within you before? One that strives to go on even when the body or the mind disagrees. That, my dear, is a result of divine blessing, honor it.

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