Day One

In a new series we've started, recently my fav main character relapses and starts drinking again. His mates come collect him, take him home and tuck him in.

They tell him, "We gotchu man, we your Day One. We here. "

And all three friends stay, falling asleep awkwardly in chairs in the living room while he sleeps off his bender.

I damn near cried there and said "fuck what a beautiful thing to say - they must all be in the program too!"

(which was extra ironic cos they're dealers)

Then the next scene had them all partying (and drinking albeit more "responsibly") together. Which confused me, and clearly Erika too, cos she went, "I guess this means they're....aaall on Day One again?"

So OBVVY, cos we old, I went to urban dictionary thinking I'd missed something. And it's told me the obvious - that it's a commonly used phrase to indicate someone's been around for a person since day one/ day dot/ forever.

[Side note: this is the thing with new-old phrases and urban dictionary. Phrases get misused or their origins forgotten oor more recently, phrases get used as an overstatement or understatement, which deeply confuses our parents' generation, but then the more frequently they get used (sometimes ironically), the less people using it know what it was actually supposed to mean! But I digress.] 

I personally am pretty certain the phrase holds far deeper meaning. So even if Urban Dictionary never tells you this, here's what it means to me:

When you're in AA or NA, Day One is feckin' hard folks. It's hella scary, you're sometimes shaking and crying and not necessarily because you're withdrawing either - it's just confronting, you hate yourself and you want to tap out but clearly you've spent so much time tapping out you've now got a problem. 

It's the First Step you're taking, admitting you're powerless and walking into those rooms.

But it can take a while, and you can have many Day Ones. 

So in the context of the program, if someone's (there for me on) my Day One, which is the first day I have not used, they're often seeing me at my lowest and my most vulnerable.

And because Recovery is a day at a time, my sobriety today doesn't guarantee my sobriety tomorrow.

We can lapse/relapse at any time.

Some of us work hard to never have to do Day One again, and some of us, despite our best intentions, find ourselves doing Day One more times than we can forgive ourselves for. But the fact of the matter is, everyone else in the rooms has been there, we've all been on Day One and know how it feels.

But Whether it's my 1st Day One ever, or my last Day One - if I'm in the safety of the rooms saying "I'm on Day One", it always feels like I'm naked in front of a crowd. Yep, especially if you've had a few Day Ones just that year after months of being clean each time. 

So if I ever say to you:

"I'm here, I'm your Day One love "

Just know that I only ever mean it in the only context I know;

That I know what it feels like to be broken and vulnerable, to feel powerless and ashamed. To constantly feel like you're the Antagonist in the play, when you thought you were the Anti-Protagonist.

But on your Day One, whilst it might feel like you're all alone, wading through the aftermath of destruction you caused whilst in addiction, know that you're not.

And whether it's your first Day One or your last, and for all the Day Ones you might end up having, you'll never have to be alone again.

Plus, if you stick around long enough, you'll have a Day Two.

Day One

In a new series we've started, recently my fav main character relapses and starts drinking again. His mates come collect him, take him home and tuck him in.

They tell him, "We gotchu man, we your Day One. We here. "

And all three friends stay, falling asleep awkwardly in chairs in the living room while he sleeps off his bender.

I damn near cried there and said "fuck what a beautiful thing to say - they must all be in the program too!"

(which was extra ironic cos they're dealers)

Then the next scene had them all partying (and drinking albeit more "responsibly") together. Which confused me, and clearly Erika too, cos she went, "I guess this means they're....aaall on Day One again?"

So OBVVY, cos we old, I went to urban dictionary thinking I'd missed something. And it's told me the obvious - that it's a commonly used phrase to indicate someone's been around for a person since day one/ day dot/ forever.

[Side note: this is the thing with new-old phrases and urban dictionary. Phrases get misused or their origins forgotten oor more recently, phrases get used as an overstatement or understatement, which deeply confuses our parents' generation, but then the more frequently they get used (sometimes ironically), the less people using it know what it was actually supposed to mean! But I digress.] 

I personally am pretty certain the phrase holds far deeper meaning. So even if Urban Dictionary never tells you this, here's what it means to me:

When you're in AA or NA, Day One is feckin' hard folks. It's hella scary, you're sometimes shaking and crying and not necessarily because you're withdrawing either - it's just confronting, you hate yourself and you want to tap out but clearly you've spent so much time tapping out you've not got a problem. 

It's the First Step you're taking, admitting you're powerless and walking into those rooms.

But it can take a while, and you can have many Day Ones. 

So in the context of the program, if someone's (there for me on) my Day One, which is the first day I have not used, they're often seeing me at my lowest and my most vulnerable.

And because Recovery is a day at a time, my sobriety today doesn't guarantee my sobriety tomorrow.

We can lapse/relapse at any time.

Some of us work hard to never have to do Day One again, and some of us, despite our best intentions, find ourselves doing Day One more times than we can forgive ourselves for. But the fact of the matter is, everyone else in the rooms has been there, we've all been on Day One and know how it feels.

But Whether it's my 1st Day One ever, or my last Day One - if I'm in the safety of the rooms saying "I'm on Day One", it always feels like I'm naked in front of a crowd. Yep, especially if you've had a few Day Ones just that year after months of being clean each time. 

So if I ever say to you:

"I'm here, I'm your Day One love "

Just know that I only ever mean it in the only context I know;

That I know what it feels like to be broken and vulnerable, to feel powerless and ashamed. To constantly feel like you're actually the Antagonist in the play, when you thought you were the Anti-Protagonist.

But on your Day One, whilst it might feel like you're all alone, wading through the aftermath of destruction you caused whilst in addiction, you are not alone.

And whether it's your first Day One or your last, and for all the Day Ones you might end up having, you'll never have to be alone again.

Plus, if you stick around long enough, you'll have a Day Two. 

                 

                                ;

"any reason to stay, is a good reason" 

It Starts With The First Step

I found an old video on YouTube of a couple blokes down at the pub, on the phone, lying about where they were and why they were running so late. 

It was hilarious. And four years ago, I completely identified. 

That was me to à tee. 

Yet as hilarious as this still is, it's also incredibly alarming to think how easily and naturally we lie is situations like this.

It's funny, but also, is it really? 

In the year of COVID the United Kingdom reported an alcohol intake increase of 500%.

"Tips" to blow on your mug during Zoom meetings so it makes you look like you're drinking tea and not wine, or suggestions of filling your kid's sippy cup with wine in case you get pulled over whilst driving -

If someone can't stop drinking even whilst needing to get into a car to drive, is that really healthy?

Is it still funny when there's a child in the back seat and you swerve?

I know the funny bits of it; I promise I have experienced it. It's hilarious and preposterous to hear about, drunken stories are the best to listen to at parties. Until you don't hear about it because the person isn't there anymore to tell it.

I was (mostly) functional drunk. But if I couldn't imagine functioning without it, was I really, technically, functional at all?

There must be a reason we're telling these lies;

Drinking out of 750ml wine glass so we can say "I've only had one glass", having a White Russian that's more White than Russian so we can have 20 glasses instead, or saying "I'll be right, I'm only having Cider tonight" even though you've had a case.

We're lying because some part of us knows something is off before we can place it.

We're lying because some part of us is downright envious of the stranger at the party you spot nursing a Gin and Tonic the WHOLE NIGHT (and doesn't even finish it).

We're lying because some part of us thinks that if someone else knew how much we drink, like *really* knew, they might think we have a problem when obviously we don't.

We're lying because we think it'll be easier for us to look ourselves in the mirror the next morning, makeup smeared and wondering how we got here. 

Today, I am 17 months and 3 days sober.

And I got here only because I took the first step, even before I knew it was a step I could take. I got here because no matter how much I tried to run, I could never outrun myself.

I'm not talking about the occasional drinkers or the one glass a night people- because I'm not like them.

But before the one glass a night people end up becoming a few bottles an afternoon - type drinkers, I might suggest that we need to step back from normalising lying and normalising "hacks to make people think you're drinking something other than alcohol".

I might even suggest that perhaps it's time we start normalising, and I daresay, celebrating sobriety.

Normalise having the courage to deal with life on life's terms.

Celebrate being able to one day look yourself in the mirror, knowing exactly how you got there.

The World In 2020- People taking personal offence to help being offered to a community that does not include them

Most days I am generally resigned to the state of the world and the overwhelming sense of entitlement most people seem to have.

They're everywhere. This is not limited to one Country or State.

Today was one of those days I decided I had to say my piece.

Context:

Someone offering a place / sanctuary to victims of domestic violence in the Indian/Pakistani/Bangladeshi/ immigrant community in Australia.

Who could possibly find fault in that, you ask? 

Uh.. These. People.

People who basically have not been included because there is a Nationwide Government-funded Safety Net for the majority of them already. And I'm not saying there aren't people who fall through the cracks - I'm saying that this offering to a community in need somehow managed to be taken as a personal afront. 

So here are my thoughts:

As the author said (politely and patiently I might add) , 

"no one person's pain or suffering is comparable, but we must acknowledge the disproportionate number of South Asian / immigrant women who face abuse in their homes."

The responses to the post raising issue about the community she has chosen to specifically support are disappointing to read.

If only people could acknowledge that all our cultural backgrounds and differences play a significant factor in our perspectives.

Helping one community is never intended to negate the needs or traumas of another.

Yes, it would certainly be nice to have something like this available to all the different communities of different genders/race/sexual orientation who suffer from domestic violence - and there already are for a lot of these.

What the author of this post has burdened on her is a need to help à community she feels deeply for and where her insight has allowed her a deep understanding of the extent of trauma rippling through this community.

Again, there is so much that is specific to the South Asian Community that those outside of it cannot begin to understand. Again none of this is being said to negate anyone's traumatic experiences, wherever you come from.
Already I write this response almost certainly expecting backlash and responses from many who take offence. Yet I am hoping that in writing this, people learn to understand that one person's call to help a specific group of people does not equate holding their worth or their traumas above another group or community.

It's like the whole counter-Black Lives Matter movement (all lives matter) . Black Lives Matter was not created to mean Black lives matter *more*. And until you are a black person who has to raise your child in a world where they can be shot for the colour of their skin, you cannot imagine to understand.

Again, it's like people raising issue with Breast Cancer Awareness because "what about all the other cancers".
An awareness of one issue is not to demean all other issues.

So, we can sit here behind our screens and voice discontent at someone who is doing something to help her community (because it doesn't include all the other communities)...

Or maybe.. We can ourselves do something about it and do something to actually contribute to all these other communities that we feel need help. 

Fall

I used to dream about this.

All the time. 

Comfy couch, chilly arvo, her falling asleep in my lap; Time at a complete standstill.

It wasn't even something I needed to imagine - we had wintery lazy afternoons in Perth and I knew, that was everything I ever needed, right there.

I'm proud of myself for getting us both here, for doing exactly what I wanted or needed to do instead of spending a lifetime waiting for someone else to help get us there.

An entire childhood of feeling like you're left hanging does do that to you - fill you with this constant inexplicable desire to actually DO things and GET SHIT DONE.

If I want to go back to school - I'll make it fit with what I need so I can juggle work and studies. I'll pay for it, no one else owes it to me. 

If I want to be a mom - making sure I'm financially stable and able to give it the life it deserves. 

If I want to perform at a bar, or do a painting or have a showcase of one-person plays over the span of an hour - 

If I want something, I'll get it. 

And I guess it seemed more like an accidental by-product of circumstance that I never stopped to give myself credit. But here, now, six months in our new home, together and filled with a happiness I thought I had long forgotten - she crawls into my lap, dozing off as we watch telly and I run my fingers through her hair. 

She is so much more settled here. So much more sure of herself. 

And I... 

I keep taking it all in. 

For once, not second-guessing this happiness. Not wondering if I'm fooling myself into thinking that I won't eventually lose it. 

My favourite season is round the corner. 

And, just like leaves start falling in love with the ground, 

I find myself falling in love with life, 

All over again. 

You've got me slightly disappointed..

Just a bit. 

And just enough... 

To keep me up another night 

Waiting 

For 

Another 

Day 

I think I know now,

You're not home 

Santa Monica Dreamin'

I haven't talked about it, how excited I am in this flurry of new things and plans but also overwhelming loneliness.

Because isn't it insane, how many conversations you can keep having and how many opportunities you keep creating to talk, but you realise you're not really saying anything anymore.

It's funny, how you keep running around doing all these other things for everyone else but you feel like there's nothing left for you.

But it's also sad, how you feel like it's something you've talked about, and tried to talk about except there's stopped being a point.

So.

So in a roomful of people, you post an old picture of being out at sea and wonder if maybe you'll fall into bad habits again of leaving messages for strangers

And, 

wondering if those bottles will ever find their way to shore.

Notes From A Teenager, A Decade On

It's been years since I've gone on one of those highly opinionated endless rants, raving at the injustice of the world. Or the education system.

But today, on Facebook no less, there was a prompt to share a memorable one-liner from our teachers.

Someone answered it, and in the comments were an endless stream of similar stories. 

Belittling, horrible mean things that were PERSONAL ATTACKS to these individuals when they were kids. 

Including someone who was referred to as an "Ang Moh Pai" (White person wannabe) who would never excel at the Chinese language.

(ps, said person now regularly works with suppliers and manufacturers across the China border) 

All of which are basically things I've had firsthand experience of, growing up in the education system in Singapore.

My shared post became a rant that I thought deserved to be published alongside all my other rants and rails against the world. 

This, but also the stories in the comments is what gets me. Being raised in the eduction system here - we all have those stories.

From being yelled at across the rooftop gym

"CHARIS NG DO YOU WANT TO BE FAT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE"

to

"Your parents must be so disappointed in you" /

"Girls you don't want to go to EM3 that's where are the kids from broken families go." /

"(snide scoff) and who, might I ask, has faith in - you -?"

Even, get this:

"But you must know, I am right because I am your teacher and I am older than you." 

If you ask me why I deliberately went back and spent 9 years teaching in the Singapore system, it's because in a world of

 " No" and

 "You'll never be good enough" and

 "Class, just leave him alone - he's autistic, he is always going to crawl around the classroom like an animal. Just ignore him."

I wanted every kid I ever taught to know that they're worth it, and that there's something they can be good at.

During introductions, at the start of every single one of my programs, when kids mumble their names and say they don't have a hobby and that they "have nothing to say",

The first few things I tell every single one of them is:

1) they deserve to be heard; I want to hear what they have to say 

2) there's no right or wrong answer in my class.

If they wanna make Roméo & Juliette a tale about intercultural romance, or a gay love story where their parents come together to persecute them - go ahead.

And every single piece I've ever seen in all my classes over 9 years, has been successful and amazing and something they can be proud of. 

----

My youngest sister at 8 years old, came home from school one day to tell me about à classmate who

"Isn't very blessed".

"What?!" I asked, "I'm sure she's 'blessed' in ways that are different from what you can see."

"hmm. No" she told me definitively.

"My teacher told my class that's she's just not very blessed. She comes to school and her uniform isn't ironed and her shoes are kinda dirty."

"Well maybe she's blessed with talents like art or math or..."

"No, she's not good at maths or Chinese. I mean Chinese she's okay. But my teacher (WTF RIGHT?!?!) says she's just not very blessed. She only lives with her father at home, she doesn't have a mother."

To which i had to say,

"Well, when I was your age in primary school, (our) daddy didn't live with jiejie either. I only had my mummy. Do you think I'm not blessed?"

Because seriously,

If this is what I'll get, putting my kids into local schools, and local methodist schools at that,

Then honestly,

Fuck you.

Fuck you because I'd rather my kids get arrested starting protests for something they believe in, than graduate with top grades and zero humanity.

----

When we were in school, my best friends and I were the subject of lots of blog trolling by the disciplinary committee. 

One, because lots of us were gay and if we were doomed to eternal damnation the school thought we deserved to have a taste of that damnation in our youth, whether we did well in school or not. 

But also, presumably, because we wrote and had mouths on us and teenage life is the best time to teach kids the meaning of defamation and the charges they can bring.

So imagine that, whether online or offline, everything we wrote or said or even hinted at came under scrutiny. Our opinions could, and would get us into trouble.

And guys, I'm not even being dramatic here okay, because we've been hauled into discipline offices, had our parents called in, been made to take down posts - you name it. 

So, now here we are. 

Close to two decades after that period of time with pseudonyms and delicately phrasing what we wanted to say, or not saying it at all. 

And this time, 

I hope my old teachers find it. I hope it makes for a lovely weekend read for them.

Because this isn't me, being a sullen vindictive teenager trying to flame the system. This is me, the same individual, still heavily scarred by all the things that system was. 

This is me saying, openly, 

That every day that I woke up and went to school (on the days I fought it off lone enough to get to school) I wished desperately that a car would hit me. I crossed the road slower, I stepped off the curb too early all the time, and I cut myself up in the toilet in between classes since I was 13.

I wished so fervently that I would be either dead or stuck in a hospital, because that would be better than bring caught in their endless cycle of bullshit. 

And now... 

Now I have kids, until I stopped teaching, I had kids, who sit with me, trying to find the words for the intense migraine and the suicidal thoughts that play on loop in their heads -

And they ask me why. 

Well, that's the million dollar question isn't it?

Perhaps that is one question they will be able to teach us all in class. 

New Beginnings, New Learning Curves

But always the same shadows that hold you back and weigh you down

At some point, after nine years of teaching and creating drama-based learning programs, after 20 years of theatre being all the things I knew myself to be,

after always finding my way back home to the stage - the most honest and real space there is- 

I decided to leave.

Well, no, not leave entirely. I think about it more like a time-out.

What I did want to do was leave the teaching behind.

There are so many beautiful moments I have collected along the way, and hours of stories that I have with the most talented teenagers I know; But you can't just stay in a happy bubble all the time.

Politics aside (which was a huge push factor), I also believe that you can't stay stagnant for very long. If you're not moving forwards, you're moving backwards. I still love a lot of all the things I used to do; But I also knew that I wasn't opening myself up to different challenges that would grow me in different ways.

So I left.

And it has been a year now.

2017's SYF was my wrap up project, and here I am. Almost miles away from that life and all the things it meant.

And boy, I don't know if I knew what I was signing up for.

I mean, of course I knew. But I don't know if I really knew, d'you know what I mean?

There are all these very new and nice moments that I like, but also a lot of truth in the world of headhunting that I am coming to terms with.

Like how a desk is never really warm. It's a brilliant company, where all the desks are supposed to be warm and where you're supposed to be able to get a decent start.

I don't know if anyone knows how much that applies to the Digital Space.

If you're a digital native, reading this, you very likely get it.

If there's been a trending topic on Twitter all day, and then you check in at 6.10pm and try and hop on to that, it's already pretty cold news.

Things move incredibly quickly. But also growing up in that age has birthed startups and young companies who also function like that.

Like what?

Like fluid and agile, all the time. Openly admitting that there's no point planning for anything beyond three months because those plans could and probably will change. Learning (sometimes the hard way), how to develop slightly more structured lines of communication.

How every non-micro-manager is actually a little bit of a micro-manager in their own way. Whether that works or doesn't work again depends on the environment and the team dynamic and the culture and the...

Throw in a headhunter into the mix; you're going to need someone who is patient and who wants to grow with you and the company. Who's not in it for a quick buck; because if they were they would be sorely disappointed. 

I want to be that person.

And I have managed to be, for some people I'm working together with.

Things like these can move incredibly fast, but it could also... not.

Poor visibility, lack of funding...

It's going to make a lot more sense to target the massive conglomerates. The ones who you already know leverage off the help and expertise of recruitment agencies. But getting your foot in there, educating those who are behind on the digital landscape, knowing the fine line of difference there sometimes is but then having to explain that to people who don't.

Or who's online marketing plan is to set up a LinkedIn account and share posts.

I'm not tired yet. Not yet.

I'm a little bit emotional drained, only because of the realistic, number-driven, KPI-expectation side of this job.

But I believe in sowing seeds, and talking to them everyday as they take root beneath the soil and grow in place we cannot even see yet.

Surely, there will be a time and a season for harvest.

But,

It is not right now.

Flashback

Isn't it funny- The many pieces of ourselves we leave behind with others. And lifetimes later, we see each other through pièces of glass; these distorted versions we barely recognise,

Holding distorted pieces of us. 

Blink and you'll miss it

There are days I am afraid to go to sleep because I am so sad

Look at the stars

And how they shine for you

But the ways words fall to pieces In our hands, and tears swim in front of our eyes and suddenly

We're bursting at the seams. 

I talked about the time I had you, and I laugh but then
There are parts of me that still break a little bit inside.

[My sister. My best friend. And everything else. ]

"She's not coming" you say, throwing your phone across the sofa

"Neither is she" I respond, impassively. 

"So"

"So."

"Kawfee?"

"Kawfee."

My grandmother's stories (part I)

"I'm sorry, I missed a step."
"That's okay, I think it was me- I wasn't thinking straight"
"We're old, it happens. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, it's okay. We can take it slow. We're old, we've got time."

Dear Singapore

It's one of those days again:

I'm on my way out the country to a destination frequented by Singaporean folk. We're still in the country and we were just having a discussion on multi-culturalism versus interculturalism. What also came up was the attacking and general resentment of foreign immigrants- whether blue collared or white collared. The family and I were just relating our own tales of being subject to behaviour of this sort. (Of course not leaving out moments when a Singaporean HAS come to our defensive and such)

The table next door seems to have overheard us and has proceeded to switch to mandarin and begin speaking horribly of us- presumably because they figure we can't understand.
"她们la-那个angmoh 的"
"都是这样的lor."
They have also proceeded to (in a failed attempt) discreetly take pictures of us.


I guess I'm really sad. Just really, really sad.
Despite never having felt at home in this country, there is still so much I have grown to appreciate and love immensely. And there are so many people who I've met here, spent most of my life with, people who have Contributed to making me more of a person than I could've ever hoped to become.
There are so many good people here, so many genuine and friendly and loving Singaporeans I could never imagine doing life without.

But then things like this happen and I realize:
It doesn't matter how much I love what I have here or how sincerely grateful and blessed I feel to have gotten to live and and spent time in Singapore. Sure she's got her shortcomings- but name me a place that doesn't?
Yet despite that, it doesn't seem enough.
Never mind that I contribute to the society (I'd like to think), and the economy. Never mind that I teach in local schools and Strive towards igniting a love for the English language and literature and the arts. Never mind that I am burdened with continuous want to remind teenagers here that they are enough, that they are talented in their own ways and that I want to be a source of encouragement where they often feel like they only ever do things wrong. Never mind that some part of me (I have come to realize) truly does care about this society and the people who've been ostracized...
Moments like these, or incidences where even now, in the year 2015 I still have been told to my face,
"Stupid foreigner go back to your own country"-
It just makes me realize
I'm not welcome here, am i?
We aren't welcome.

And so,
When my kids ask me
"Ms C but why? Why Singapore..? Why would you want to live here?"
And I smile and say,
"Now isn't that the million dollar question, hey?"
I'm not saying it with resentment or any amount of snark. I'm saying it with a very special level of sadness and heartache that was formed and only belongs here.

Having said all this though, I refuse for my posts to sound so bloody tragic. So I'd like instead to take time here to say thank you to all the amazing Singaporeans I have come to know and love here. So many of you are my go-to people and I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for you. And even when I go off on rants like these, please know that whenever I am asked why I'm still living here,
I think of you.

Once upon an August 26th-

You would've been just a little over six now,
And life would've been unfathomable without you.

Do not stand at my grave and weep 
I am not there. I do not sleep. 
I am a thousand winds that blow. 
I am the diamond glints on snow. 
I am the sunlight on ripened grain. 
I am the gentle autumn rain. 
When you awaken in the morning's hush 
I am the swift uplifting rush 
Of quiet birds in circled flight. 
I am the soft stars that shine at night. 
Do not stand at my grave and cry; 
I am not there. I did not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye