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Thursday, March 13, 2008

one year from now

According to Dr. K's diagnosis of me I should be off medication in a year's time, even though I have been depressed for 'a long time' - his words.

In one year from now, I will be 30.

I would have sorted out my plans to go to an Indochinese country for a mid-term stay, three to six months long thereabout, not including reconnaissance trips there before that.

According to my doctor, for me to be 'rooted in reality' I have to prove, or disprove, the relevant core skills and strengths that I have. So that when people tell me, "You are so talented, E!" or "E is very good at (insert task/activity/ability)," I no longer feel traumatised by their perceived value of me. Yes, I hate it whenever anyone praises me for being good at something, for having a lot of potential, for being talented - because I truly, truly, feel I am not. The thing is, I am 'good' at almost everything I have done with everyone. I don't know why I am 'good' at that thing with you. I am not genius like Sylvia Plath or Jackson Pollock, I just have the same sickness as they did, without talent. But people keep telling me otherwise, which stresses and upsets me, because deep down inside I feel these things people say are grossly untrue.

So, I have identified three core things I should prove that I am good at, ever the cooperative client that I am. I already know I am good in managerial-related roles. And it is what I have a B.Sc (Hons.) in - Management, with a capital M. So for that, I will stop hating every comment that comes my way telling me I am good at my job. Doctor says managerial and administrative skills are lacking badly in most NGOs, missions agencies and other aid-related organisations. This might tie in my passion for missions, in some way, down the line.

The second skill I need to prove or disprove in me, is writing. D W says "only you and Emily Dickinson deserve to be published in print, not people like me." This statement muddled me and caused tears to flow, and it only means one thing: I have to prove that I can write. I am still not sure if I am a novel writer, a short story writer, or what else. I know I can write well on this blog, but that is useless. I know I make a good copywriter for marketing communications - business-y stuff. But I am not a published writer. I need to be published to prove or disprove that I am good at writing. This skill is the scariest one to prove.

The third core thing, is my usefulness in humanitarian-related work or missions work in Asian countries. Pastor Brian says I am a very good person to have around on a mission trip (I don't know why or how, to be honest). Some people tell me I inspire them towards missions. I don't believe any of these comments whole-heartedly. When I think of humanitarian work I think of how under-qualified I am. The disparity between wanting to be involved and not being able to, tears me apart and has broken me many, many times, since I left H to run the business alone, since I left the Y because I was not gaining anything and yet losing so much. I decided that, to prove my relevance in the humanitarian industry or in missions work, I need to be more present in the countries that need help, and not just do a short mission trip a year, which was all I was doing since 2001, except for last year, where I didn't even go for any.

Hence, the reason for my plan to work and serve in (most likely) Cambodia in a year's time. This was one of the main factors why I left C: it wasn't just his lack of empathy and his abandoning me alone that led me to leave him, it was also because I knew that if I had stayed with him, I would never make this step to live in a developing country like Cambodia for half a year. And my Mom even agreed that if I could find something for her to do, she would come with me.

One year from now, I will stop crying for no reason.

One year from now, I will love life.

One year from now, I will no longer be sad.

One year from now, I will know where my strength and beauty lies.

One year from now, I can truly say, I lived my twenties with no regrets.

I just need to survive the year. Two steps forward, the occasional step back, but forwards nonetheless. Technically I have a little more than a year, because my birthday is in November. But when I am finally thirty years old, I would have re-engineered Elaine, into someone even better than I am now.

Cry with me, celebrate with me. Stay alive with me. Exciting times are ahead.