Previous posts have been about love lost. Sometimes it’s easier to ruminate over what we don’t have and forget to acknowledge the love we do have.

From my magic carpet ride in 2020 (two summers ago?!), I remember saying to R with wonder in my voice, that there is love all around us. Yet why are we unhappy, plagued by mistakes we committed, unable to detach from lost love, lost success, loss in general? We don’t realize that we have a choice in what to receive and what not to receive. Our human tendency is to run after what we desire and don’t have rather than to receive what is directly in front of us. Sometimes, what we don’t have isn’t what we’re meant to have. And sometimes, what is directly in front of us all along is what we need but didn’t even realize its value until it may be too late.

In my last new year’s resolution, I promised myself that I would try to build a relationship between two estranged siblings, Justin and Chi Ha. If nothing else has happened, I can say with honesty that I tried, over and over again this year. I’ve never spoken as frequently or as much with all my siblings than this year.

My birthday this year reflected the change in my relationships to family. It was the first birthday in years which I’ve spent with family specifically with the sisters who I’m closest to. Being the half life time mark, makes this birthday even more significant. My 30th and 40th was when I was still with Troy. In the weeks preceding my 50th birthday, I was feeling some self pity that I would be spending it without a life partner. I couldn’t think of how to celebrate such a milestone but the way it evolved, it was everything it had to be. I spent it with family that I loved and who I knew supported me and we did things that elevated my spirit – hiking at the beach, my spa afternoon, eating good food and sharing laughter and good energy. Though my mom chose my birthday to have her dramatic exit from the house, I chose to not react. I drew my boundaries and didn’t allow anyone or anything mar the spirit of the day. My birthday was a quiet yet grand entry into my next fifty years where I chose to take care of myself first before I took care of other people. That would be kind of unheard of ten years ago and I would have felt guilty had I did anything like that. Now, I’m actually kind of proud of myself!

I’ve been thwarted at every turn that I’ve tried to take this past year. My life as I knew it has stalled and I’m feeling it in my body. My legs from the knee downward feels stiff, achy, as though my circulation has been stymied. The emotional feelings of being frustrated has manifested in my legs, tightened my throat and chest.

When I was young around 5 or 6, I thought to myself that if my mom ever died, I would want to die with her. My whole identity was wrapped with hers. I couldn’t imagine what life would be without her. Like most children, I also thought she would live forever.

Now that I’m an adult and caring for her, I have some resentment that she didn’t have surgery earlier which would have given her a better prognosis to recover her former mobility and regain more independence. She always spoke so highly of herself, that she had the courage and the strength of mind to make a decisive and quick decision to leave everything behind, her homeland, her family, everything she knew and loved to come to America for a better life. At 81, she was so vital and active until her fall. After the fall, she was scared to have the surgery, dwelling, dwelling on the same questions, seeking different answers. Now, three months out, the doctor’s prognosis for her surgery was less ambitious, primarily for stabilizing and preventing any further decline or serious injury. When I heard my mom’s iterations of the same questions, I was so irritated. She was wasting everyone’s time, and dashing my hopes that she would recover enough to live independently. I was disheartened, embarrassed, irritated that I was once again witness to the same indecision.

I vowed to myself that in my later years, I will have the strength of mind and courage to do what I could to be less of a burden to my loved ones who would be taking care of me and to live an independent life full of value and meaning.

I would remember that my decisions would not only affect my life but those who were caring for me. I would remember that should I choose to not do all I could to be independent then my family should not be the ones who would carry the burden. I would not let them suffer.

Later, I study my mom’s face when she seems lost in thought. Without her dentures, she seems like a wizened old lady, sitting slightly hunched, her mouth slightly sunken, her white hair growing in like a crown. I can imagine her thinking the futility and value of life, wondering if there is more than what is in front of her. She’s in constant pain. Will I be any different? When I’m in a body that no longer functions the way I want it to, will I remember these intentions made so resolutely decades before?

I saw the underbelly of fighter jets. I was that close (not sure really how close). I was dumbfounded. How can they fly so close to the ground?

I live in Oakland and almost every year, I can hear the blue angels practicing. It’s more of a nuisance since they’re so loud. I’ve never considered going to see them in person. A bunch of jets in the sky…what’s the fascination? I didn’t understand till my brother took my mom and I to view them in HB.

Wooooooosh! It’s been forever since I felt this excited and full of wonder. To be witness to that kind of flying, to be that close, it was thrilling. Car alarms were constantly going off due to the vibration.

The speed, their flying in formation, all of it was nothing short of amazing.

I finally won the biggest payout for Powerball. Eight dollars! I saw the first three numbers matching. Oh what a rush of adrenaline!

I went to cash it out the same place I bought it, at Vietnamese to-go deli near my mom’s house. For some reason, after running the slip through the machine, the attendant told me there was something wrong with the machine. She look quizzically at me. I was disappointed but I resolved to come back. The next day, I was back to get my winnings. Same thing. This clerk looked puzzled too but claimed that the machine was off. A little more frustration this time on my part. This 8 dollars seems especially hard to claim.

A few days later at a Vietnamese market, I attempted again to cash out my ticket. Waiting for the employee to check my numbers, I waited patiently. “Your ticket has already been cashed”. As I looked on dumbfounded, the clerk printed out a receipt like note that informed me that the winnings had already been distributed.

It’s 8 freaking dollars! I know it’s 8 dollars but I can’t turn the other cheek and not collect my 8 dollars.

So I went back to the original shop. The supervisor didn’t know what to do. After consulting with someone on the phone, she gave me the eight dollars. But first she advised me to notify their employees if it happened again. How would I know? I reiterated to her that I did nothing wrong. What could i have done differently except what I was doing now? I let it slip that my first instinct was that the shop swindled the money from me but I gave them the benefit of the doubt and wanted to inform them of the situation. I didn’t mention that I was prepared to notify them to the CA lottery board and seek my winnings. 8 dollars is not nothing. It’s a mocha with a cookie. It’s a carton of pastured eggs. It’s money that I earned. It’s a winning lotto ticket.

I was so invigorated at the end when I claimed my money. I hadn’t let myself be intimidated by the language barrier, by being perceived as being petty for collecting $8 dollars, by facing the possibility of a confrontation. It was $8 dollars but it was a good exercise for baby steps towards increased confidence, self assuredness. I had the presence of mind to end the conversation amicably, empathizing with them about working with difficult sometimes, unscrupulous customers, and finally wishing her in Vietnamese a day fully of happiness.

It was good that I didn’t burn my bridges to claim my modest 8 dollars. I don’t want to feel embarrassed to step into the store again. The food is quite good there and more importantly, I do think they work ethically and follow good sanitation protocols, which isn’t guaranteed at these humble little shops. But I didn’t realize how important our resolution was until I realized half an hour later that I had forgotten my phone on the counter of the shop. Had there been any unpleasantness, I doubt if I could have retrieved my phone or that there would have been a phone left to retrieve.

moral of the story: be kind but firm. Don’t get taken. Fight for your deserved rights.

Back in June, I was scheduled to go to my first Goenka silent meditation retreat. It was a few years in the making after R first suggested it. Finally, I made the commitment to wake up early to sign up online. I suspected that the demand would be high after the pandemic put a pause on in-person retreats. But the morning I woke up, I laid in bed and decided to ignore my intuition. I signed up half an hour after enrollment opened. Of course, I got waitlisted. I was very disappointed in myself but wasn’t surprised. A few weeks before the retreat, I was notified that I was confirmed to attend. A rush of relief and gratitude flooded me. I felt like there had been divine intervention and I was given a second chance. I wasn’t going to miss it for anything!

I looked forward to the retreat believing it would transform my life. That’s a tall order for one single event but I was motivated. Whatever I learned at the retreat, I was resolved to apply the skills and knowledge. I believed I would learn to not just hear my intuition but to act on it. I believed that I would learn to fortify my sense of self, so that I could never waver from a decision, that I would become a fighter first for myself and then for others. I don’t know why I had all these preconceptions and expectations, except that these were aspects of myself that I had long wanted to improve upon. I spoke excitedly with my friends my plans to attend the retreat and what I hoped to gain from it.

A week before the meditation retreat, I got the fateful text from my brother, K. My mother had fallen and was in the emergency room.

Ever since then, life has been upended and regressed. I’ve returned to my priorities and values of the past. My priority has reverted back to my responsibilities of a daughter and a sister and my home is now split three ways, between my sister’s house, my apartment in Oakland, and my mother’s house. Each home has a different wardrobe for a different persona. It’s been a refresh on my personal appearance and image which is a needed change after what I’ve gone through in the last year.

It’s a return to yesteryear because in order to start afresh, I had to clean out the old. I had to clean up my old relationship dynamics and establish new healthier ones with siblings and with my mother. I have to say goodbye to my former self and commit to the current one that I would listen more and apply more wisdom to my decisions. I’ve been literally and figuratively cleaning out the closets, dark corners, and all other areas that have been neglected and forgotten.

This year is a pause in my life to really clean out the old, and plan for the new to arrive.

My new year’s resolutions to cultivate deeper and more loving relationships with my siblings especially the ones with whom I was estranged with started with the family meeting in January and then accelerated after my mom’s fall. I wasn’t prepared nor had any desire to be the group leader but I’ve been told that given my temperament of patience and diplomacy, my siblings look towards me for direction, for peacemaking, for planning, for organization. Besides, if I didn’t take the role, nothing would get done and I couldn’t live with the consequences. I’m not sure how well I’m handling everything but I’m doing my best.

I was seeking 10 days of inner work at a peaceful, quiet, and tranquil nature setting in the mountains of San Bernardino. Where I found myself instead was in the middle of a messy, chaotic, tornado of my family in a house that may or may not be inhabited by ghosts. Is this the message from my guides that I need more incentive to get going with my life plans? That if I don’t help set my family up for success with my mom and a more cooperative dynamic that I will be stuck here doing it on my own? Whose responsibility is it to take care of mom? Not just me. It’s all of us. It’s my brother’s and my responsibility to take care of the house but our mom is the mother of nine children. I have 1/9th share of the responsibility and I’m the sixth in line to boot! I can’t ask anyone to do anything other to look deeply at their relationship with our mother, see what and if it could be changed. Ideally, everyone takes turns spending a few days with her. Spending time with her can be the torture they’re avoiding or a lesson in patience, loving compassion, and forgiveness. Forgiveness starts with ourselves first before we can start healing our relationships to others. We can’t change our mother but we can learn to change our response to her.

It’s up to each of us to decide what our experience will be.

“All healing is reinterpreting what you believed has happened to you”.

Since my divorce finalized in 2017, I’ve reflected on my past relationships, and what I’ve learned from each person that I’ve had the grace to have touched my life. Following each relationship is the inevitable sadness, guilt, shame for the mistakes that I felt I was responsible for. Then there’s the inevitable regret of what was and what wasn’t. For me, it’s the time also when I wonder if our relationship can be reconciled. Can we move on from the pain and hurt of the past? Reconciliation never works if it’s a simple rehashing of what happened.

Humans are not static. We can grow and learn if we choose to. Each day is truly new. We are reborn with new potential for the day to turn out differently than the day before. A good indicator of future actions is reviewing past behavior unless there is a commitment to improve. We can refuse to be defined by our past, if we work towards changing and transforming ourselves.

Perceptions, emotions, and communication are the three problems which contribute to the human dilemma. We have memories that are buried deep, so deep that we may not remember, from this life time and lifetimes before. Most of our actions are habituated and driven by past conditioning and we sometimes don’t know know why we behave as we do. Awareness and mindfulness of every action we take is the practice we must cultivate in order to live in the present. Otherwise, we are just corpses that live out the days without significance, guaranteed to repeat the same mistakes.

We must close one chapter of our lives before we can start a new one. But life isn’t always so neat as closing a book when we’re finished. We are humans with emotions and memories. I think that’s why it’s so important to celebrate milestones. We should mark occasions that are worthy of celebrations and worthy of reflections. Birthdays, job and career changes, job losses, new jobs, relationship break ups, all of it. Nothing is a waste of time if we can learn wisdom from it.

I’m a terrible planner. I have a lot of ideas but I fail to execute a majority of them because I don’t plan. I also tend to procrastinate but I think that stems from fear of failure. If I don’t start something, I’ll never fail at it. It’s a sure way to succeed at failing. That I’m really good at.

I used to always be too much in my own head. Maybe “used to” is being a little forgiving. I tend to do that still. It’s a bad habit that I’m working at breaking. I would perseverate which ultimately means I waste a lot of time overthinking without taking any action. It’s also called paralysis by analysis and something that my previous romantic partners would be unhappy with and remind me of. I dismissed their observations in the past as them being unforgiving but now I realize how wrong I was. I’m also always late for everything I’m scheduled to be at. Being late occasionally is forgivable, being late all the time, is simply an indicator of poor planning.

The only upside is that I’m really very patient when I’m the one waiting. I could wait for hours and not be upset so long as I’m informed of the lateness. It’s my ability to emphathize with why they’re late that allows me to be patient, because goodness knows, I’ve had a lot of experience being late and then feeling guilty for it. But at some point, even I start getting crabby. I am after all human.

But it isn’t just my own inclination for tardiness that makes me more patient. I have accepted that nothing hardly ever turns out the way we predict. And even when they do, it’s never quite like we imagined. Our happiness then really hinges on our perspective. The classic half filled glass scenario. Is it half full or half empty? The former phrase reflects a perspective of abundance and the latter of scarcity.

Tonight, I was looking forward to going to yoga after a week of not going but I also wasn’t sure if I could or should go. Being with my mom, I feel very responsible for her. It’s not dissimilar to how I felt before her fall. Back then, I tried to compensate for my other sibling’s lack of interaction with her by being with her more frequently. I did it because I felt that I could help her feel better, in other words, I felt responsible for her happiness.

So I wavered in planning. I didn’t have my bag packed until the last minute. I asked Justin to be home with her and he agreed with some reluctance due to the short notice. I felt a little guilty about asking for time away and I didn’t think to inform mom until I was about to leave. I should have known. She asked me to observe and assist the caregiver in cooking and while I did tell her I would be late, I continued to stay and help with the cooking. When Justin finally came home, I jetted off. Along the way to yoga, I speeded but unfortunately, the gods decided to give me a lesson. Studio was locked by the time I arrived for the 6:30 class. I was so bummed and ticked off. My chest was feeling the heaviness. I started blaming my mom for holding me back a few minutes which could have made all the difference in making it on time. Instead of going to yoga, I headed to purchase water at Whole Foods. Mosquitos made me into a pin cushion as I was waiting and my itchiness only added to my bad humour.

Who’s the culprit/who’s to blame? I am, of course. It was disappointment in myself that I allowed myself to miss class that made me most unhappy. I have the responsibility to care of my own happiness. If something is important to me, I need to make it happen. I could ask others for their help but ultimately, it falls on me to accept the responsibility for whatever happens.

Had I set my mom’s expectations earlier that I was going to yoga, I would have felt more comfortable saying no to her request for me to stay back. Had I set expectations for myself that I was going to do my best to go to yoga, I would have given myself fifteen minutes buffer time and would have made it in time to spare. Instead I was stingy with her, projecting my own guilt and incorrectly inferring she would be unhappy that I was leaving. I was stingy with myself for not doing enough to ensure that I would practice knowing that it was healthy for me physically, mentally, emotionally.

Someone told me that he believed that the secret to happiness is just accepting the state of reality and having no expectations. I disagree. I think half the joy in life is being able to look forward to something and dream a little. Fantasize a little. Imagine what your ideal life will be and seek to manifest it. Just know that life doesn’t always work out the way you anticipate and be ready to adjust as you go. Let go of what you think should happen and embrace what shows up. Therein lies the beauty of serendipity.

 “Now we’re worse than exes. We’re friends.” -Anne Elliot 

I thought I was ready to hear from him. It’s been five months, or six months since we ended things and we went our separate ways. I don’t know when exactly things started unraveling. Maybe it was in October 2022 when we had our first conversation and I expressed doubts to him. But since we came together again after Christmas for our COVID quarantine, I would use March 2022 as a fairly good midpoint as our approximate end date. We kind of slid into the break up phase and had one really long and tortuous slow breakdown.

And so I thought I was ready. But I’m not. Reading that he was seeing someone and that it was a committed relationship was hard. I laid in bed after reading it first thing when I woke up. I should have waited. I let the information sink in. As I laid there, I felt the pressure slowly move across my chest. If there was an infrared picture that could be taken, I swear there would have been a shade of red spreading across my heart. Sadness and disappointment.

“Have a little pride in myself!”, my inner lioness whispered (it is after all morning and the household is still asleep). Who is this woman who’s claimed his heart or at least his attention? Knowing him, he’s already full on head over heels for her. I don’t really want to know, maybe not ever. Of course, I want him to be happy…with me. If not with me, then happy in a parallel universe.

In consoling me a few months ago, my cousin theorized that the conditions were not met for us to stay together. I loved him and I still do. Of course, love wasn’t the problem. It was the first adult relationship where I felt I could be myself, totally and honestly and I felt so loved and heard and understood until things started unraveling. The end was confusing and sad. We couldn’t decide who could have given more and didn’t, there were my growing pains away from my sister, and we were keeping mental tabs on all the deficiencies. I say “we” to be charitable but I don’t feel like I did. That was one of many problems afflicting us.

If life could be like Jane Austen’s Persuasion, we’d meet again in 8 years, and have a confusing reunion, realize that neither of us were truly happy without the other, and we’d make the commitment to be together against all odds. We’d make it work because we had to be together. There wouldn’t be question of if but how.

Life is not a book, sadly. Otherwise, I’d rewrite the ending of this relationship or rewrite it altogether and make it a romantic comedy. I’m tired of being sad and melancholy. The only thing I can do now is to let go of the past and see what we can build now from here. Wow, that sounds so grown up!