Sunday, August 09, 2009

Holding my breath... again

The weekend has been action packed which started with losing my phone, dove into having to perform with the rest of the chambering students in front of the entire Firm, climaxed with horse riding on a beach in Feringhi and ended with waiting for the next working day.

Losing my phone made me damn pissed to use speech of such eloquence but resulted in one main thing; because I couldn't call my usual circle of friends when my mood swirled into familiar dark waters, I could only seclude myself from the crowds and depend on God. I spent many moments looking into the sea and talking to God this weekend. It wasn't exactly rest, but it was a start. Talking to God hasn't instantly solved my problems and in the work environment where problem solving is the ultimate achievement, speaking to God may seem at best a coffee break and at worst, a waste of time which breeds inefficiency. There is a want I cannot identify and cannot name and yet it's there and it frustrates not to be able to articulate what it is that I really want.

As I struggle to forgive, rebellion kicks out angrily damning everything and everyone around me I find myself getting angry at the tiniest, most insignificant thing, despising people who care for me and scorning people who don't. I have gotten to a stage in work where people no longer matter; results do; winning does; and I loathe it. I hate that people see time spent helping others as time which could have been used to help themselves and use that as an excuse not to help flailing comrades. I hate that lunch break appears as a bestowed benefit instead of a right to drop everything and pursue what I want for that brief hour. I hate that people push the blame round and round but scoop praise all for themselves. I hate that being part of a professional body seemingly means sacrificing your personal obligations in the name of being a professional. I'm waiting to be proved wrong because I feel that I might crack again very soon. The overwhelming tides of pent-up uncertainty is burdensome and is bearing heavy on the dam of my sanity. It numbs the mind and weighs the heart down. What I really need most and often is a good hug but damn it, apparently it is not 'Malaysian' to hug. I'm in the freakin wrong country!

I told a friend the other day that my working experience in the last 2 months has flushed out the worst in me to full view. He said that perhaps it was God's way of dealing with the crap inside (Okay he didn't say 'crap') and that perhaps my rough edges could only be dealt with when it was out in the open and not suppressed.

This weekend, I saw members of my Firm party the night away and the ones who seemed to enjoy themselves the most were the ones who to me, slogged the hardest at work, the ones who seem unappreciated, sidelined and overlooked; they were the real party people that night. For a brief moment, I saw their struggles and mine seemed pathetically petty next to theirs and yet, whilst I always feel the need to lick my wounds whilst trying to establish who I am, these veterans give a glimmer of light and a flicker of hope that there is still a soft glow of humanity embracing the grey carpets at work.

1 comment:

voon said...

hey.. *hugs*!!!