tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3892171806899998522024-03-14T12:59:51.467+02:00Serenity in ChaosAmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.comBlogger233125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-87950942196692322892019-07-26T12:12:00.000+03:002019-07-26T12:12:17.218+03:00From Disconnection to Connection<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's been so long since I last blogged or blog-hopped. I thought to myself a while back that I probably wouldn't start blogging again, but this week I feel compelled to write again, because I've experienced a huge moment of shift and I need to record it somewhere so that I don't forget. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shortly after my mom passed away out of the blue last February, I had a strange feeling in my chest/brain. You see, my mom has always been my bridge (communicator) between worlds. She was the one who kept me updated about my sibling and his life as well as our relatives. I suddenly had an image of a cut off phone line upward in my family tree (imagine it in 3D) and my phone line downward is dangling in the air as I have nobody to "call". No more direct connection upward, no direct connection downward ever. I didn't feel depressed, but it felt strange. Hollow. I felt like floating in the air, though it wasn't my intention to do so. I was uneasy, still in the process of figuring out the new configuration and how I felt about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then after a while, images of all those people who had come before me in the vast family tree (whose names I don't even know, so they were simply imagined faces) flashed through my brain. And when family trees upon family trees upon family trees kept on branching or stopped branching, it wasn't hard to notice just how small (or even tiny) one life is when you think of all those histories. My lifetime is but a short breath in the vast ocean of life, and one important thing came across my mind when I thought of the rows and rows of people and family trees with cut off and dangling and connected phone lines. It's the realization that in the grand scheme of life, I'm connected to many people in my lifetime (including those I may never meet in real life, including those who may find my written texts long after I'm gone). Therefore, it's impossible for me to know whose lives I've touched and how meaningful one interaction can be. Heck, a meaningful encounter may also mean that some people learn from my mistakes. How can I possibly know whether some other people have learnt from my mistakes (unless they tell me directly, that is)? My point is that the more I think about meanings in life, the more impossible it is for me to pinpoint exactly what makes my life meaningful (especially since my job doesn't involve changing/saving the world and I don't have kids). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That moment made me feel free. I don't need to wonder about what makes my life meaningful since my life journey is so connected to so many people around the world (through this blog and other social media outlets as well).<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"> <b>I just need to be me as authentically as I can be. With all my warts and all.</b></span> That's it. I'm free to just be me. My life is meaningful enough as a teeny tiny drop in the huge ocean of life. I am enough. Funny how one moment of feeling disconnected can make me feel so much more connected that I ever felt in my life. </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-56399041341264550262017-04-27T14:01:00.000+03:002019-07-26T11:28:54.736+03:00Celebration! <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I haven't been blogging or blog-hopping in a long while. Been busy focusing on other stuff and my blogging muscles have atrophied (in some ways). Plus I don't think I have that much to say anymore about my infertility journey, so I may be writing about other stuff in this blog from now on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've mentioned here last year that I entered a <i><b><u><a href="https://serenity-in-chaos.blogspot.fi/2016/03/">writing competition</a></u></b></i>. I knew I wouldn't be able to win because my Finnish ability was still basic (compared to Finnish writers), but I had a story to tell and there was nothing to lose. A few months ago I got a letter that stated that my piece was in the top 30, so my story made it to the anthology. <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>YAAAAAAAAAAAAYYY!!!!</b></span> It felt too good to be true, so even though I was happy, I tried to hold my horses. Then afterwards I had a call from the organization that held the competition, saying that my piece was in the<span style="color: #d5a6bd;"> <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>top 20</b></span></span><span style="color: #c27ba0;"> </span>and I was invited to the gift-giving ceremony. Unfortunately it was held in Helsinki, so I couldn't come due to my work (plus it's not that cheap to go there). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Two days ago they had the ceremony and the published the list of winners. Six winners received money, whereas the other fourteen finalists will receive copies of the anthology. I'm one of the latter. I can't wait to get the anthology! Now I can truly celebrate and know that this isn't a dream! :-D </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Must admit, though, when I read the list of winners online, it was <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>bittersweet</b></span>. I felt like saying to my deceased dad, "Dad, even though there's no child carrying your blood through me, I've etched your (sur)name on a book." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You see, even though in my birth certificate in Indo and all my previous legal documents there I don't have my dad's surname, all of my legal documents here carry my dad's surname.* </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyway, will you celebrate with me and dance along to this song? :-D :-D :-D</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">* This is because the crazy Indo officials wouldn't let my dad add his surname to my birth certificate. This doesn't only happen to me, but it happened to my brother as well as all the kids born during those period of time. However, when I first applied my passport, the crazy Indo official decided to add my dad's surname to my passport. FYI, nobody in Indonesia (none that I know of) changes their names when they get married, so they retain their birth names. I was planning on adding my husband's surname before infertility...but after infertility, I decided to keep my dad's surname. Nowadays I keep my dad's surname just because <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">it</span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">'s such a hassle to change all my cards/passport etc., but who knows maybe someday I'll change my mind. </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-75621596392969538792016-07-31T00:04:00.000+03:002016-07-31T00:04:02.106+03:00The Beginning of a New Era?<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My period has started getting weird. I remember skipping a month before we got married (not sure which year), but other than that my periods haven't been so weird until this year. My periods range between 31 - 43 days. I remember a few years ago it arrived on CD (calendar day) 45 and at that time I was scared of getting pregnant, so I was relieved when it finally arrived. At the beginning of this year, I had another period on CD 27. It had never happened before. Then this summer I didn't have any period for 65 days. Is it the start of <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><b>peri-menopause</b></span>, I wonder? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the beginning my period lasted 7 days and there was so much blood and for many years I almost always dirtied my uniform with some blood (ugh!), then for a long time now the length of my periods went down to 5 days and the amount of blood was thankfully getting less and less. The last period before this one only lasted 4 days and on the fifth day, I was squeaky clean. Not a drop of blood. I don't mind getting short and sweet periods, though. :-) If this is really the start of peri-menopause, no wonder I couldn't get pregnant when I started trying at (almost) 30. I thought I still had years of fertility left! After all, my mother had me at 32 and my brother at 34! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">How do I feel <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">about the possibility of peri-menopaus<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">e? Neutral so far. </span></span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On an altogether different note, I'm almost ready with the preparation for my mom's visit. Can't believe the day is coming soon. Felt like ages ago when we first started talking about it. I remember holding my breath every now and then, hoping that she stayed healthy (and alive!) to make it for her trip and now it's finally right in front of us! :-D</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Japanese learning has been put <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><b>on hold</b></span> for a long time. I've been focusing more on healing my <b><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">bilateral tennis elbow</span></b> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and spending time <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">with relatives this summer</span></span>. This year has been full of physical healing trials and errors. I've also been forced to learn to set my boundaries and stick to them (even if it means disappointing people). Two people have told me that it took them two years to heal their tennis elbow, so I'm trying to be patient with myself. I hope my bosses and coworkers will also be that patient. So far they've been awesome with me, but nobody knows how long it'll take for me to heal fully. I've learnt a lot of things about stretching, self-massage, and strength training as well as bought and tried different types of exercise/massage tools. My new fave self-massage tool is a spiky ball. I combine using that with my Pain Hook and Gymstick foam roller. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Yesterday I finally sent a story to the Finnish (non-fiction) <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><b>writing competition</b></span>. I started writing it months ago and then got stuck. After a long break I continued writing it, but almost gave up as I thought it wasn't satisfactory. However, I decided to push through. A coworker had promised to read it, so I had to keep my promise. I finished the story, sent it to my coworker and she gave me some positive feedback and correction (bless her!). :-) I'm not hoping to win (though it'd be a nice surprise - there are more than one prizes), but I hope that my story is one of those that will be published. However, my deepest wish is to see the faces of the judges as they read my story. That would be the best thing ever! :-D </span><br />
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Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-17665092252179769542016-06-17T11:51:00.001+03:002016-06-17T11:51:11.444+03:00Hologram<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lately I've been reacting to several things in ways that I couldn't do when I was still in the depths of TTC after infertility. Two friends who are at least 40 y.o. have just told me they are pregnant again (one was a surprise pregnancy) and I could congratulate them in a neutral state of mind/heart. Another friend joked on FB, "Go make five (children)!" when I commented how cute someone's baby was. Years ago, I made a similar cute comment on someone's baby photo and the mother said, "Quick, you should go make a baby then!" and it took all that I had not to lash out to her. This time, though, the words didn't affect me in such a way at all. Instead, I instantly joked back and told her, "You go and make 5 children yourself LOL!" (side note: I know the word "make" sounds weird, but it's the direct translation from the Indonesian word).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />These three events have made me think of <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>3D holograms</b></span> <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><b>(use your imagination freely as you read the next lines)</b></i></span>. You see, in the beginning of my infertility journey, whenever I saw someone's bulging belly, I often had a strong reaction to it and many times I almost cried right then and there. It was as though my 3D hologram jumped right in front of myself. The grieving hologram of myself with an empty belly, who was crying out loud right then and there and screaming in agony, "Why not me, too? I've done everything right and prepared myself to be a mother etc. etc." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />And in the past when someone told me she was pregnant (especially if it was an unexpected one), my grieving hologram showed up again and the unexpectedness of it all was like a (serrated) blade that stabbed me. The wound then started bleeding again (or started bleeding more) or the gaping wound became even bigger or deeper. It hurt. It hurt because I knew they didn't mean to hurt me, yet I was in so much pain. It hurt because I wanted to be happy for them, but I couldn't. And it hurt even more because I felt like a horrible person, so I got even more frustrated at myself, but at the same time I felt that I had the right and the need to take care of myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">You see, my own hologram (that popped up between me and that person) was <span style="color: #a64d79;"><b>blocking me</b></span> from accessing the other person's happiness fully. I mean, how can you disregard that kind of projection when she's standing right in front of you in such a state and in such intensity? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In the beginning of my healing journey, this hologram (the projection of my grief/pain) was so intense, vivid, and relentless (even uncontrollable). Over time and plenty of grief work (with lots of help and support from my tribe), the intensity and the frequency of my grieving hologram has diminished. In fact, as the hologram gets weaker and weaker, at times I can even press <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>"pause"</b></span> so that I can be fully present in someone else's company and then press <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>"play"</b></span> when I'm on my own again. </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-6428969608076598802016-03-15T11:35:00.001+02:002016-03-15T11:35:38.411+02:00"Write Me!"<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometime near the end of last year, I spotted a <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>writing competition</b></span> on a Finnish magazine. I took a photo of the competition with my mobile and I was so psyched in submitting my entry. The competition ends at the end of summer this year, so I wasn't in a hurry as I had a story in mind already. The competition isn't non-fiction. However, soon after I got really busy at work and then I got tennis elbow. During the time I was on my sick leave, I was in such a dark place that the competition was the last thing I had in mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Must admit that on my darker days back then, I felt some shame over my tennis elbow. It was the first time I had invisible health symptoms. I even avoided going to my workplace as much as I could. I was afraid of not only losing my job altogether, but not being able to work well with my arms anymore. Both arms! What kind of job would I be able to do in this small village if that happened? And the thing is, I still enjoy my job, so I'd still love to continue doing it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thankfully my <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>long and winding road to recovery</b></span> finally started in the middle of January and now I've been back to work for a full month already. I still have some tennis elbow symptoms and the degree of the symptoms depends on what I've been doing, but at the very least I can go back to work as long as I don't do too much work. Anyway, I felt like my life was put on hold before I found out my final diagnosis and before I met my two physiotherapists. I tried many things I found online, but since they usually made me feel more pain afterwards, I refrained from doing them. It was difficult to know what to do, what not to do, how much I should do the things I should do, when would be safe to start doing it, etc. Now I've gotten more help and pointers on what to work on, so I've also spent time working out more than before. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, back to the writing competition. Now that I feel that my new year has finally started, the writing competition popped back into my mind. It's mid March already, so I don't have as much time to write my story. The other day I started thinking about how to start it off and for the first time in a long time, I literally felt joy bursting forth. It was so much fun to think of different ways to start a story! It's as if the words are begging me, "Write me! Write meeee!", so I can only obey them he he he...I feel excited simply by imagining some people (the judges) who are going to read my story. I hope the story will make them smile. :-D</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'll start blog-hopping bit by bit from now on. It's been a long time since I last wrote a blog post here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-66614460635179274222015-12-16T11:25:00.000+02:002015-12-16T11:25:24.753+02:00Splendid Sodankylä<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've been silent due to many reasons. One of the major reasons is my wrist/thumb/arm problem. I've been staying away from using the computer to rest my active hand fully. The second major reason is linked to my previous post. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Let me try to summarize it. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Basically speaking, written text is by far <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>my most fave form of communication</b></span>. Always has been, always will be. <br /><br />The barrage of written text after the Paris attacks was like the last straw that broke my back. It's like this: if written text is like my fave chair in the house (bad analogy, I know), then I feel like people are throwing their fave chairs at one another instead of inviting other people to sit there and have a good, private discussion. And it scared the shit out of me. It was disturbing enough to be surrounded by the mirrors of what-I-could-have-done (I could easily have been one of those people), but it was all the more disturbing to see so many chairs being hurled at one another. It also disturbed me that people used social media as a means to somehow say this: "This is what I stand for. If you're not with me, then you're against me." "If you stand for XX, then I'll delete you from my friend's list." Ugh. Ugh. And more ugh. <br /><br />My most fave form of communication never felt like the destructive two-edged blade the way it did after the Paris attacks. And it hurt. It hurt. It hurt that I became scared of using that tool to express myself, even though it had always been a tool that makes me feel the most alive. And another disturbing thing is the TMI factor. It feels like in the past, we only get to know other people's inner beliefs/<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">p<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">ersonal </span>opinions</span> when you talk to them/write to them/spend time with them in real life. These days, it almost feels like Mel Gibson in the movie where he suddenly got the ability to read people's minds.<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> On <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">a smaller s<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">cale, it doesn't feel disturbing, <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">but when it feels like the global world is giving you TMI, it's overwhelming. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So I took time to recharge and stay away from all the "white noise" and figure out how I wanted to use social media. Here are some things that I've found during my cave time:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- We all make mistakes. We all fuck up. I'm also prone to reacting when
I'm in fear, prone to lashing out when I'm angry, prone to defending
myself, prone to be narrow-minded and obstinate in my beliefs and
ignorant. I've also hurt other people with or without intending to do
so. My words have been misunderstood or taken out of context. My words
may have fueled other people's feelings to a certain direction and may
have created more chaos than peace. But you know what? That's all a
package of life. The only people who don't make mistakes are the ones
who don't do anything. Yes, silence is sometimes better and wiser than
words and yes, I've made the mistakes in speaking when I'm supposed to
be silent and not speaking when I'm supposed to speak up, but what
matters most is that as long as I have another day to live, then it's a
brand new day to do better. <br /><br />- <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>Life is a journey of learning.</b></span> So go and write, speak and make mistakes and learn from them. Learn to be brave to speak when you need to speak up and learn to shut your mouth when necessary. <br /><br />- No matter how hopeless an act of peace can be among those who want to create chaos for their own personal reasons/gain, keep striving to spread peace wherever you go, because the world doesn't need more hatred.<br /><br />- Even though there is a potential of darkness within each of us (like Yin/Yang), I shouldn't be afraid of the darkness (during my low moments I felt like dark shadows were creeping out from the corners to get me), but instead I should focus on how the darkness can help me see some things better, for example how bright the stars and moon can be when it's pitch dark all around me. Focus on those stars and moon (or the Aurora or other people's lit inner candles) instead of the shadows that you're afraid may swallow you up whole.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On a totally different note, I went for a walk along the river bank yesterday and took a video. I combined the video with last year's Christmas video, added a song and some quotes. Here's my End of Year greeting to you all...</span><br />
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Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-4585189722327531282015-11-25T11:19:00.000+02:002015-11-25T11:19:18.475+02:00Broken Mirrors<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've been staying as far away as possible from FB for a while. I had been feeling low before the Paris attacks. After the Paris attacks, though, it got worse as I couldn't help reading some random FB discussions/wall posts convos. PMS didn't help, either. The lowest point was when I asked God, "God, I don't understand why You still love us. If I were You, I'd have destroyed the entire world many times over."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Yep, no gratitude whatsoever. Just <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>confusion, anger, disappoint<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">ment, </span>and frustration</b></span>. I had a hard time sleeping well at nights and my thoughts and feelings were all muddled. I was disappointed at some of the things people have written in FB, but mainly I was disappointed being <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">human</span>. I wanted to stop being human, if that makes any sense at all. I felt like what should have been talked about privately shouldn't have spilled outside in public places like FB as it only produce more reactions instead of healthy discussions. I felt that people should have just shut up instead of posting things that may only provoke other people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All those random things that I read in FB made me feel like I was surrounded by so many <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>mirrors</b></span>, each reflecting my dark sides that had been lurking in the back, threatening to swallow me up whole. It was very disturbing to be made very aware of those sides that dwell inside of me, because all I wanted to do was to close my eyes and stay the hell away from those mirrors or break those mirrors altogether.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Reading Ecclesiastes comforted me somehow. I wasn't the only one who felt like everything we did was like chasing the wind, yet for days my brain was still muddled. Yesterday I finally found a <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>clarifying moment</b></span>. What disturbed me the most was knowing that I could have been one of those people who fussed over nothing amidst a tragedy (for example why one puts up/doesn't put up a tricolor profile photo), who posted reactive texts instead of discussing my thoughts/feelings in private, who shared stuff without thinking/checking twice, etc. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You see, if I read about what a psychopath has done (for example), I feel that there's a huge <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>emotional distance</b></span>
between what that person is capable of doing with what I am capable of
doing, but what about the emotional distance between me and those people in FB? Well, the distance between us was way too close. I get
where they were coming from. I could have easily done similar things. I
have been guilty of similar things. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A few nights ago, I had a dream where I
had been attacked. All I remember from that scene was that I was
standing up, still alive, looking like Frankenstein. Lots of cuts and
bruises ALL over me (including my face) and stitch marks all over. Yep, my dream was very much in line with my inner world. But you know what? I was still alive. That was the part that I held on to. <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>I'm still alive</b></span>. I still have a lot o<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">f<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b> inner work </b></span>to do, but <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">m</span></span>ay I learn how to be wise with my words and actions...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span>
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Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-51150067749051209192015-10-05T23:06:00.000+03:002015-10-05T23:06:05.847+03:00What Next?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The question <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"What next?"</b></span> had been on my mind for a while. After a period of contentment in this childless-not-by-choice life, something that other people have failed to understand (such as what I wrote <b><u><a href="http://ailema4ever.blogspot.fi/2015/10/two-separate-paths.html">here</a></u></b>), I began to wonder what else I wanted to learn that could bring me joy and excitement. The combination of moving to Finland and infertility have dampened my quest in setting a long-term project/goal. I used to set long-term goals and worked as best as I could to reach those goals with gusto. I enjoyed both the process of getting closer to the goals and the moments when I was able to reach them. Moving to Finland and infertility have helped me become more able to focus more on the present and enjoy each moment (something I'm <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>forever grateful for</b></span>), but I must admit that I miss the joy of chasing after a long-term project/goal. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Because I don't feel like going up the ladder at work, I need to find a project/goal elsewhere. You see, back in High School I studied<span style="color: #d5a6bd;"> <b>Japanese</b></span> for two years, though I wasn't really serious and it was only once or twice a week, so I never did learn that much. The idea of (re-)learning Japanese occurred to me a while back already, but I was afraid that it would only mess my brain even more, so at first I told myself that I would only start learning Japanese after I became more fluent in Finnish. However, at the back of my mind something was nagging me. Was it just an excuse? Why did I want to postpone? For how long? The excuse couldn't stay too long, though, as the thirst to learn something new kept on growing as time went by. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I started off by using some online resources from the basic: learning Hiragana and Katakana once more. When I was doing the trace sheets, I realized that I remembered some of the characters, but the rest looked completely strange (I couldn't believe I could memorize both Hiragana and Katakana already back then!). I also realized that it felt awesome to be able to hold a pencil in my hand and trace those characters as it felt a bit like drawing (something I rarely do). However, using online resources was challenging as I got distracted quite easily. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, to keep myself committed, recently I've purchased some Japanese books from TheBookDepository (I love them because they ship anywhere around the world without any postal charges and since books can be heavy, that means a lot to me!) and they've just arrived. <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>WOOOOHOOOOOOO!!! </b></span>I know there are plenty of free online resources to learn Japanese, but I love learning a language through books first (I still love the feeling of holding a book in my hand and being able to sift through the pages). Once I sort of get to know the basics, I can then move on towards using the online resources. That was how I studied Finnish on my own before I started going to Finnish courses.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This Japanese self-learning started very slowly and I even had lots of breaks in between (due to being busy at work and being sick after our holiday), but now that I'm having my second batch of summer holiday, I'm psyched to learn more. It feels<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b> GREAT </b></span>to have a long-term project that would expand my brain without any pressure from outside (and my <b><u><a href="http://serenity-in-chaos.blogspot.fi/2015/09/introducing-mochi.html">Mochi</a></u></b> with his tick-tocking tail is just as excited LOL!!!). </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-83629794237997248972015-09-24T15:31:00.000+03:002015-09-24T15:31:36.209+03:00Rising Strong<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What probably prompted me to create Mochi (see my previous post) was listening to Brené Brown's talks and her mention of how the narrative (story) we tell ourselves have a big effect on our lives. So there I was feeling forlorn and melancholic because my chamber of cheerleaders was rather empty and I was wondering if I could somehow manipulate that story in a creative way. Here's what I'm talking about: </span><b><u><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.oprah.com/omagazine/Brene-Brown-Rising-Strong-Excerpt">Brené Brown's Rising Strong Excerpt</a></span></u></b>.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You know what? After creating Mochi in my mind, I played with my imagination a little. I imagined a dozen versions (or more) of Mochi dancing around and playing around in my chamber and I felt <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>GIDDY </b></span>with excitement. Like a little kid with a new toy. Or an adult with a delightful secret. I don't remember when the last time I felt that giddy, but now whenever I close my eyes and imagine Mochi, my devoted imaginary cheerleader, a smile always appears on my lips. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, if you want to listen to her talk about Rising Strong, here's the video below. I managed to catch half of the video live, but had to wait for the video link to be uploaded to watch the first half of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-2065016886563609252015-09-18T13:49:00.002+03:002015-09-18T13:49:40.490+03:00Introducing Mochi! <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These past few days I've felt melancholic. It doesn't help that the weather outside has been rainy and grey as well. There have been some things that have made me feel this way (other than the refugee crisis and the heated debate on the changes the government has proposed for this country). One of the reasons is that some things have made me more aware of the <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>hollow echoes</b></span> of my rather empty chamber of cheerleaders. I'm thankful for a few people who have been able to share my joys (my "Eureka" moments) that are otherwise missed completely in today's world, but every now and then I visit the chamber and realize how hollow it feels like compared to how it used to be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, the nostalgic part in me took over. Someone wise reminded me that the few people who shared my joys were truly genuine and she was totally right, but I couldn't shake the melancholy off completely. But then a part of me wonders how much my imagination can help in terms of filling the rather empty chamber. I have, after all, felt the benefit of conjuring up my inner BFF whenever I need to. My inner BFF is the splitting image of myself, but maybe I need a separate image to be my own personal cheerleader. Would it work? If our reality is made up of happens in our mind, then would it help to have an imaginary cheerleader? No harm done in trying, I say.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So last night I began thinking of my own personal cheerleader and I came up with a name. <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>Mochi!</b></span> Mochi is one of my fave snacks made of glutinous rice ha ha ha...This time my personal cheerleader is in the form of the only cat I ever had in my lifetime. A <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>CUTE</b></span> ginger tomcat who has a short, curled up tail that only goes tick-tock-tick-tock. Seriously, my cat had a tail like that and it made him super special LOL! Anyway, Mochi is smart and he has the personality of a dog. He's fiercely loving and loyal to me, but also very playful and independent. He's a much better dancer than me as he's very nimble and light on his feet (think of a dancing Puss in Boots with a curled up tail). Best of all, he's always ready to share my joys and jump up and down like crazy by my side. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm truly looking forward to having a lot of fun with Mochi. :-D</span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-39700819022945758572015-09-06T16:57:00.001+03:002015-09-06T16:57:29.724+03:00A Shame Story<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've got a <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>confession</b></span> to make. For a loooooooong period of time, whenever I read articles about how a CNBC could be the "fun, cool aunt" or be involved in various children's lives, I had a mental image of a shrinking Amel who was backing away slowly to the corner of the room, cringing in fear of being judged. "Errr...but I'm not like that!" I thought to myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I never felt really compelled to be involved in other children's lives and I can honestly say I'm almost scared of the thought of having to babysit a young child as I have no idea what I have to do (I'm really not used to being with small children). I feel that I can do better with older children, but even so we've spent so much time being with just the two of us that I'm rusty in that department. I have far more confidence dealing with young adult kids like my husband's elder brother's kids.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The last time we went back to Indo, I felt glad to go back to our hotel room after spending time with my brother and his family (and two kids). I had fun buying them toys and clothes, but I wouldn't volunteer to babysit the kids (for example). I wouldn't volunteer to babysit my friend's kids, either. In fact, I feel awkward when they come for a visit with their smaller children. If the child is already 7+ above, I feel less awkward with him/her. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That said, though, it still fascinates me how much I wanted/longed to be around little children when I was still trying to have a baby (I helped out at a daycare for 3 months back in 2010). I know that one reason for that was to prepare myself for motherhood, but one other reason was the strong need to prove myself that I could also be a decent mother. One other reason was probably more hormonal, because I've noticed a similar thing happening to a friend who's been dying to have a child of her own. Ever since the motherhood dream kicked in, she's been saying that <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>ALL babies</b></span> are cute and she wants to spend more time around little children. I remember vaguely that during the time I was so into my motherhood dream, I felt more fondness towards many children compared to (for example) these days. These days (after the motherhood dream is buried), I feel more <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>selective fondness</b></span> towards children (just like I did before we started TTC). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In short, I've never felt like I'm a kiddo lover, though I don't hate them, either. I think some kids are cute, some aren't. I admire (childless) people who love kids and love hanging out with kids (of various ages) and love being involved in various children's lives, but I have to admit that a</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">t times I struggled with the feeling of being <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"less than"</b></span> those people. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At times I wondered <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>if I was lacking something</b></span> as a woman and human being because I didn't actively choose to do anything much with various children.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For a loooonnngggg period of time I felt this type of <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>shame</b></span> coming and going. I wonder if the reason I felt this type of shame also had to do with the subconscious message from society that kept on throwing away the "Why don't you just adopt?" line to the infertile in general. I mean, it's as if those who want to have their own children desperately (but can't) should become like Mother Teresa or <u><span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>at least</b></span></u> they're expected to do</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> something as equally life-changing for other people's kids. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>My saving grace</b></span> was remembering something that happened many years ago. You see, one woman I know wasn't that maternal in her younger years compared to her peer, but when she became a working mom, she was so devoted and involved in her children's lives that it took everybody by surprise. When we complimented her and joked that we would never had thought she'd be that maternal, she said, "Well, but it's different when it's your own kids, you know?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Remembering that story was the first step for me to help me let go of my shame. The second step was inviting my inner BFF for a long, heart-to-heart chat. The third step is publishing this post. :-)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span>
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Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-16832879828004403742015-09-04T13:16:00.002+03:002015-09-05T11:04:21.750+03:00Methods of Coping: From Sarcasm to Parody<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As a couple who enjoy watching TV
series and movies, we are bound to see those typical <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"miracle pregnancy"</b></span>
plot twists. Infertility grief has made me become more sensitive
towards a miracle pregnancy plot twist or any pregnancy plot twist in general (esp. the ones used as<b> <span style="color: #d5a6bd;">THE</span></b> happy ending for the character/characters in the stories). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the beginning of my grief process, depending on my mood,
whenever I sensed that the story was going that way (a pregnancy/miracle pregnancy was on the horizon), I would usually
feel annoyed and angry and somehow disappointed as well that not many characters represented us, the childless-not-by-choice (CNBC). Of course
logically speaking I know that it's foolish to expect it from the
entertainment industry. After all, more often than not, people watch
movies or TV series to escape real life. Thus my weapon of choice in the
beginning of my grief process was oftentimes <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>sarcasm</b></span>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Of course she gets pregnant. They <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>ALL</b></span> get pregnant in movies," I'd say to my husband (gritting my teeth and seething inside). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
husband, who said nothing much in the beginning, started
picking up the theme quickly. After hearing me say those lines on different occasions, he started being the one who said it first
every once in a while when we were watching movies/TV series. I was/am glad to have a comrade-in-arms. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over
time, my anger diminished, though sometimes when I'm PMSing, I tend to
have a stronger reaction towards this type of plot twist, but in general
my sarcastic comments shifted into a more <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"meh"</b></span> and <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"blah"</b></span> tone whenever I blurted out, "Of course she is/gets pregnant."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
remember a while back I was feeling so excited when a character in a TV series that we had
been following was described to be having trouble conceiving with his
wife. I wanted to say to the character, "I can relate!!!!! I cannnnn!!! Gosh, I wish we could meet up and talk about our grief!" (side note: Yeah, delusional much? LOL!!!) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, back to the story: the couple in the story then started off an adoption process. The man had filled up his
car with baby stuff, ready to pick up the baby, when he heard news that the adoption fell through. My heart broke for
the couple, though secretly I was wondering and hoping if they could be a CNBC representative. Needless to say, a few episodes ahead the wife announced in an ingenious way that she's pregnant. Back to feeling "meh" and "blah" with a mental head slap for having irrational hope towards the entertainment industry. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">During
our recent holiday, though, my husband started using <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>parody</b></span> out of the
blue. While we were watching a movie on TV in our hotel room, all of a
sudden he blurted out, "I'm pregnant". He said the words as though the
character in the movie was saying it and because he chose an absurd time
and place to say it (one time he even said it for a male character), it was hilarious! We were both giggling and laughing like crazy. :-D</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now
back home we've both started using this<span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b> parody</b></span> coping method to entertain
ourselves with this fertility/infertility theme. For example: there's a
scene where a man and a woman who are in love with each other will have
to separate soon due to one reason or the other (I don't want to be too
specific as it'll become a spoiler). Before they have to separate, the
woman professes her love again to the man, so they end up kissing and
making love. After doing the deed, they hold each other and the man says
this, "I hope you can find a better man that you deserve. Be happy
without me."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Before
the woman can respond, it's a good time to insert some parody! So one
of us can say something along this line: "Don't worry! In the next
episode I'll be carrying your child, so I'll have a piece of you with me
even when you're gone."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Something like this (or even more <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>absurd lines</b></span>) ended up making us <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>laugh uncontrollably</b>. </span>This parody technique works for us! These lines will also end up as our insider joke, so we have nothing to lose in using parody from now on. Sense of humor has saved us time and time again (even before infertility) and it's proven to be one of my most cherished methods of coping with life. </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-61930424837916627192015-09-02T16:52:00.002+03:002015-09-02T22:10:35.101+03:00What Is Your Greatest Achievement?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Note: I've been MIA due to being busy at work, then taking time off from my PC due to my wrist/thumb problem, then we went on holiday where I also took time off PC and now recuperating from an infection (otherwise I'd have started blog-hopping to catch up already). I wrote a post in my head before I got sick so now I'm going to write it down here before I start blog-hopping tomorrow or this weekend (my head still feels a bit woozy but I don't want to lose momentum with this post).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*****************</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last week I tried imagining someone asking me the question <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"What is your greatest achievement?"</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That sudden question made me search my database, but I couldn't come up with a definite answer in such a short time. Instead, a part of me blurted out, "Does it even matter?" </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another part of me, though, was curious. Could I come up with a definite answer? I kept searching and searching and searching to no avail. I haven't found a cure to any disease nor have I created an effective system that helps many people. I haven't come up with any theories that revolutionize anything. I'm not an athlete nor a musician that wins lots of medals, either. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, what has actually given me the most trouble finding a definite answer is <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>my belief</b></span> that whatever I've achieved in my lifetime isn't based on my sole efforts (or intelligence or talents). Every single thing that I (or the world) can call an achievement has been made possible because of God's help and the (direct or indirect) help of the many random individuals (either online or IRL, dead or alive) that are too numerous to mention. I couldn't have accomplished many things without the help of God and those many random individuals (some of which I've never met and will never meet in this lifetime because they have inspired/taught me through their words/stories post-mortem).</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm learning to "take pleasure, not pride" when it comes to my achievements. I'm learning the balance between believing that I'm only one super tiny drop in the vast ocean of life (who am I to think that I'm the centre of the universe?) and believing that even as a super tiny drop, I do matter. Easier said than done, I know.</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Conclusion: rather than coming up with a definite answer to that question, I'd like to spend some time being thankful for God's help as well as the help of those random individuals (including you all who have left me very loving and thoughtful comments in the past). <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you</b></span> for your existence, love, support, guidance, inspiration, thoughtfulness, presence, wisdom, life lessons, examples, encouragement, sense of humour, acceptance, warmth, forgiveness, comfort, friendship, vulnerability, and openness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<center>
<a href="http://www.glitter-graphics.com/"><img border="0" src="http://dl6.glitter-graphics.net/pub/831/831586xrn62880x2.png" height="81" width="198" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><a href="http://www.glitter-works.org/" target="_blank">glitter-graphics.com</a></i></span></center>
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Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-47846450090424740112015-07-14T14:39:00.001+03:002015-07-14T14:39:33.247+03:00Feelings...Nothing More Than Feelings...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Recently I was reminded of something
I felt when my mom announced that my brother and wife was having
another child a few years back. Even though I was happy for my mom and
my brother and his wife (and happy to know that my nephew would have a
sibling), there was a part of me that felt a bit frustrated that I was
losing my mom to <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>"more grandmotherhood"</b></span> because I knew she would fall in love with the new child and her life would revolve around the child. And I know that when the grandchild is still young, it'd be more of a challenge to take my mom out for dinner or a movie or both when I come for a visit to Indo because her mind would be all about the child (she was the same way when we were young). </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaaiQQ9H1PJmYtWXXNlPJ_dxehmy7RkeXy7NlPNvMoX7D0kxA-ZagdsoBc5IeBRbxyqb1qQg1emTpFxccS_cCaJlKhfdbcs8ysIXK51Ugr7CvLjMMgsAX4RUX8W_jD4VFVi8RuyAGTbuA1/s1600/Rx.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaaiQQ9H1PJmYtWXXNlPJ_dxehmy7RkeXy7NlPNvMoX7D0kxA-ZagdsoBc5IeBRbxyqb1qQg1emTpFxccS_cCaJlKhfdbcs8ysIXK51Ugr7CvLjMMgsAX4RUX8W_jD4VFVi8RuyAGTbuA1/s320/Rx.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What made me remember that feeling I had a few years back? Well, a friend of mine has just announced her
second pregnancy and although I am happy for her and her family, I
couldn't help feeling like I was losing her to <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"more motherhood"</b></span>. One of the first things that came to mind after getting the pregnancy announcement was the timeline of events, moments, and stories that can happen in a child's life. I felt that I was also losing her to <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>more motherhood bonding </b></span>with the other mothers as they would be naturally swapping pregnancy stories/comparing with the previous one, birth stories, and many more future stories (first day of school, girlfriend/boyfriend, wedding, etc.). The feeling of being left out once more was palpable because I wouldn't be able to respond with my own personal stories. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For what it's worth, she was<span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b> <span style="color: #c27ba0;">really sensitive</span></b></span>
towards me and she gave me plenty of signs beforehand that they had been
trying to have a child. She even wrote me first to tell me the news
herself before she told the others and I'm <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b><span style="color: #c27ba0;">very thankful</span> </b></span>for that, but
you know what else I feel? I feel<span style="color: #c27ba0;"> <b>a tad sad</b></span> that she had to be that
sensitive with me because of my infertility history. Her email had a sweet, apologetic tone and it broke my heart a little. I couldn't help
feeling "if only I hadn't been CNBC, then she wouldn't have had to be that careful with me when breaking such happy news..."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yet the second that "what if" thought appeared in my mind, a part of me gave myself a good whack on the head, because I
certainly did not ask for this to happen and I'd like to think that if I
were on the other side of the fence, I'd be sensitive towards someone
in my position as well.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> It's not my fault, it's <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>nobody's fault</b></span>. That said, her sensitivity reminded me of the many (side) effects of infertility and I <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>mourned</b></span> a little. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another thing I've realized lately is this: </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've been
waiting for some (specific) friends to breed and be done with it so that I can have
some <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>respite</b></span> from the similar feelings of losing them to "motherhood/more
motherhood bonding", though I suspect that in the far future the cycle may start
all over again when they start having grandchildren. </span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhok3xi0BgowXmOPuEu_cuZWToWeec7mQ8zd39btHzDT4o9N1mrQjOEOlaUTAuxgqCLfbXwoW3exocEB33lhu-_hOXS4IzJD47VDK0Gry_l8ZetShV_5hHy1TQonwTBqZ6IrWRlRNJbJfMZ/s1600/Rx2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhok3xi0BgowXmOPuEu_cuZWToWeec7mQ8zd39btHzDT4o9N1mrQjOEOlaUTAuxgqCLfbXwoW3exocEB33lhu-_hOXS4IzJD47VDK0Gry_l8ZetShV_5hHy1TQonwTBqZ6IrWRlRNJbJfMZ/s320/Rx2.JPG" width="180" /></a></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the flip side, though, I've felt <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>some connection</b></span> with two different women on two different topics altogether. The first case reminds me that every now and then we all struggle to embrace/remember our<span style="color: #c27ba0;"> <b>innate self-value</b></span> and to find our own<span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b> <span style="color: #c27ba0;">personal mission</span></b></span> in life regardless of whether or not we have children. The second case reminds me again that my infertility grief journey is <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>beneficial</b><b>, irreplaceable</b></span> even. I'm grateful for these two occasions as they remind me that despite the disconnect I feel sometimes, connection is still available in unexpected places. </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-66123515500164178412015-07-10T13:28:00.003+03:002015-07-10T13:28:39.229+03:00When Heart and Mind Collide<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When you talk about letting go (esp. letting go of complicated things), many times over your mind knows already what to do and your mind is totally ready to let go and has probably started to let go, but your heart will have to catch up and it's taking its own sweet time. The mind is knocking your head over and over again while saying, "You should know better! You should know better! Let go!" but then your heart is saying, "I'm not quite there yet, you know? I need more time." </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The mantra <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"be kind to yourself, be
kind to yourself" </b></span>must then be repeated over and over and over again as
you try to let go of your own frustration. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today is a friend's birthday and it reminded me of something that crossed my mind during TTC. I was born two days before my mom's birthday, so in a way I was her early birthday present. This fact never really raised to the surface of my consciousness until we started TTC (chuckle!). And furthermore, on husband's side, his eldest brother had the same birthday as their dad. At that time the idea of being able to get/give a birthday present this way (either for me or my husband) was really appealing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realize now that this was one of the things in my "baby dream package" that I had to let go of. This and the fact that I would like to be able to tell our child her/his birth/childhood stories the way my parents did. These wishes are just a few examples of the <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>many, many, many layers of invisible losses</b></span>. No wonder it takes a lot of time and a lot of work, especially when your heart is taking much more time to catch up. And no wonder it's so misunderstood, don't you think? When the world scratches its head and responds, "Loss? What loss? Get over it, I'm not comfortable with your pain!", what we truly experience is a complicated maze of losses or rows and rows of buried wishes (some of which we'll only find further away in the journey) and in the depth of it all, it's so overwhelming that it's difficult to even begin to explain it to someone outside the journey. All you can do is find your own tribe and take as much time as you need...</span><br />
<br />
<center>
<a href="http://www.glitter-graphics.com/"><img border="0" src="http://dl3.glitter-graphics.net/pub/660/660783fp453etk62.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><a href="http://www.glitter-works.org/" target="_blank">glitter-graphics.com</a></i></span></center>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, this is something unrelated, but I'd like to share this gorgeous video clip with you all. Someone in the comment section wrote this: "</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this performance was dedicated to their former teammate, who died from
brain cancer. this was the song he used to perform with when doing the
individual competitions. usually group gymnastics have teammates
cheering them, clapping before/after each big feat, but for this they
remained quiet for their said teammate. so moving and so beautiful!" </span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YCyEr4jRHRY" width="560"></iframe></center>
Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-62371415218761592842015-07-01T13:14:00.000+03:002015-07-01T13:14:31.440+03:00Mourning Has Broken<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today I'm taking as much time as I can to mourn the heart distance between me and some people...</span><br />
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<center>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ar7nVbjAsEw" width="560"></iframe></center>
Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-87666333916610396562015-06-26T16:08:00.001+03:002015-07-05T17:58:15.980+03:00Identity<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As a Chinese descendant in Indo, in my younger years I <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>struggled</b></span> with the idea of belonging. I felt that the nation itself didn't acknowledge me fully as their own, so I wrestled with the idea that I wasn't a native anywhere. Where did I belong then? The Chinese (mainland Chinese) would have nothing to do with me as I don't even speak their language and I don't know their customs and their way of life. I wasn't interested in learning the language at all as it was a grueling process that needed money and determination (I chose to study English instead) and in my young mind at that time, I didn't want to be even more "Chinese" than I already was. I was bitter and angry for some years because of this. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>A square peg in a round hole. </b></span>That was what I felt. My saving grace was the fact that there was a big Chinese community in Indo and I had lots of friends that were in a similar position and I grew up with lots of relatives and cousins. When the riot happened in 1998, I felt sick to my stomach that my Chinese facial features could have made me a target of attacks (FYI my family was safe), but there were others who were in a similar position, so I didn't feel alone and I was definitely not alone. We tried looking out for one another as a group and we tried to stay home as much as we could. After the political situation got better in Indo, I started to be more at ease and the older I got, the more I came to terms with the non-native idea. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm a citizen of the world, native to none and that's OK. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, after having lived in Finland for a little over 8 years, I'm <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>partly Chinese-Indonesian, partly Finnish, and partly Indonesian</b></span>. Even with this hodgepodge of cultures within me, I can still find other people like me relatively easily through the wonder of the internet and as an expat in Finland, it's again relatively easy to find other expats and relate to them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Being a <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>childless-not-by-choice</b></span> woman, though, that took the isolation to a whole new level as regular people (even those that didn't lack empathy in other areas) couldn't really relate to this. The first time I used the world "infertile" in my emails to my closest friends, their reaction was so strong that it made me feel as though I had jinxed myself for using that word to describe myself. Yet I desperately needed the term to find my support group, to find those people who could understand and validate my inner chaos (and thereby validate that I wasn't a bad person just because I had my inner chaos). After we decided to let go of this dream, I started using the term non-mom or childless-not-by-choice (CNBC) as my self-identification in order to find my support group.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That said, these days I've started thinking more about labels and how I'd like to call myself. All through these years there's one thing that never changes about me: <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>I LOVE </b></span>exploring my own thoughts and feelings and finding out why I feel the way I feel and then figuring out what to do with them. I enjoy the ecstasy of screaming out <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"EUREKA!"</b></span> when I finally find out why I feel the way I feel, even way before I can figure out what to do with them. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So hereby I'd like to declare my current badge: I'm an <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>Eternal Self-Explorer.</b></span> Nice to meet you. :-) </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbE7By3u0y6HA1fFbbi-2HvhI-Z90BFz5Cuqt7vIW5kOatmNbIOhuntRVbzjYLrr81utNYamaT5QAaKS9ICXDhZFv_0WFnd7UwAquM8-azoUAxkazdPT66lvz56rN4kTJKmGiq4Au0uXkd/s1600/ESe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbE7By3u0y6HA1fFbbi-2HvhI-Z90BFz5Cuqt7vIW5kOatmNbIOhuntRVbzjYLrr81utNYamaT5QAaKS9ICXDhZFv_0WFnd7UwAquM8-azoUAxkazdPT66lvz56rN4kTJKmGiq4Au0uXkd/s1600/ESe.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image taken from <u><a href="http://glitter-graphics.com/graphics/1479425">here</a></u></span></span></i></div>
Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-40566820858443282662015-06-25T17:36:00.000+03:002015-06-25T17:36:17.474+03:00'Nuff Said<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ktNZXMCdN1TkQ-AHp0_BXvRmJqUB1qsJlNtPiPKLhDd9krcqc-LSP5wQ0Cw4oGg0jQBxxKzwRxAJnbbmOwx-pts8vAV4QIEyo5L6E20ryBTXMk8pLoW5se7Fk6BvN2PEza51SfYIZNIL/s1600/Connections2x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ktNZXMCdN1TkQ-AHp0_BXvRmJqUB1qsJlNtPiPKLhDd9krcqc-LSP5wQ0Cw4oGg0jQBxxKzwRxAJnbbmOwx-pts8vAV4QIEyo5L6E20ryBTXMk8pLoW5se7Fk6BvN2PEza51SfYIZNIL/s400/Connections2x.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-45824997964325949512015-06-15T11:50:00.001+03:002015-06-15T11:50:57.775+03:00Beware Nostalgia!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A few years back I read those words in a book. "Beware nostalgia", Jean Vanier said in reply to someone who was wondering if she had left her previous mission place too soon (<u><a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Essential-Writings-Jean-Vanier/9780232527537">Jean Vanier Essential Writings</a></u>, page 56). I never really thought much about those words, though they stuck in my mind. The other day, though, the words really spoke to me personally. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jean Vanier's words and the conversation I had with some friends helped me a great deal in dealing with my nostalgic feelings and angst. Suffice it to say that if friendship were an entity, I had been holding on to its dying body all these years because I couldn't yet let go of the nostalgia. I kept holding on to the good that we had had together, hoping that the body would function better if only I kept on trying to give it CPR. However, my efforts only made me more resentful, because an imbalanced friendship never works. I tried lowering down my expectations a few times, but apparently the CPR I kept on giving to the dying body only acted like a venom to my own psyche. The venom of unmet expectations. When one wants and longs to give more time and effort, but one needs to hold back because the other party cannot give as much anymore, it is a loss. It is devastating to turn a forever friendship into a no-strings-attached (acquaintance-like) friendship. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The body of friendship was dying, so I had to let it go completely. No more holding on to nostalgia to keep the body alive. This time I arranged a sea burial in my mind. I placed the dying body on a raft and set it to burn. The waves carried the burning raft away to the darkened horizon. After a while, my gaze turned to the sky, where the stars were twinkling away...and I feel lighter. </span><br />
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<center>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.glitter-graphics.com/"><img border="0" src="http://dl3.glitter-graphics.net/pub/2640/2640003otmuvo4xvq.gif" height="320" width="240" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><a href="http://www.glitter-works.org/" target="_blank">glitter-graphics.com</a></i></span></span></center>
Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-18797516112727090692015-06-02T13:51:00.001+03:002015-06-02T13:51:10.378+03:00Post Mortem<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the places I visited on my last travel was <u><a href="http://highgatecemetery.org/">Highgate Cemetery</a></u>. When I was there, I couldn't help thinking of all the texts or quotes written on the stones. I haven't noticed any additional texts on the gravestones here in this village, though I haven't really looked, either. Yet walking around Highgate Cemetery, which was filled with so many texts or quotes, made me think of how people choose them for their loved ones. Those texts range from "beloved by all" or "in loving memory" or "finally together again" or "he/she was much loved" or "at peace with God". My hopeless-romantic part love those different texts. :-) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My logic, though, is a different matter. I've given up any thought of how I'd like my body to be dealt with when I'm gone because it depends on who will be left behind and that person(s) left behind may not be anyone close to me because half of my family lives in Indo. That said, though, this tablet managed to reduce me to near tears as I was leaving the cemetery through the gift shop:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKpIw1zbYkM6T7pmM_HayaC3juL-q_RpDB-9vQ77fWeky7ZiCNztZFX6boFbQNWJQ7KZgpHHL5VFNsqaYs0LOIWSo9wioFAR5DpblNT0jcMfRYYvnoBvOqkkaTn0WyH-F7ZE85xevN1KY/s1600/Tablet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKpIw1zbYkM6T7pmM_HayaC3juL-q_RpDB-9vQ77fWeky7ZiCNztZFX6boFbQNWJQ7KZgpHHL5VFNsqaYs0LOIWSo9wioFAR5DpblNT0jcMfRYYvnoBvOqkkaTn0WyH-F7ZE85xevN1KY/s320/Tablet.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, here are some lovely quotes by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross (many more in the link below): </span><br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“We run after values that, at death, become zero. At the end of your life, nobody asks you how many degrees you have, or how many mansions you built, or how many Rolls Royces you could afford. That’s what dying patients teach you.”</span></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQSLQEbU8hpmvuFexdp_ph66n8b8wP1jxCfFuiWoe1Dn3lqLzlyBviiFNi7bUIUAae8CAvTng2JoRau4qkQ2Ju-xy7qn7NEjTzh0Uu6i8dXaBOewqHtbPR8T7YD3V7JYoS7r9bAxRJyfv/s1600/cath4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQSLQEbU8hpmvuFexdp_ph66n8b8wP1jxCfFuiWoe1Dn3lqLzlyBviiFNi7bUIUAae8CAvTng2JoRau4qkQ2Ju-xy7qn7NEjTzh0Uu6i8dXaBOewqHtbPR8T7YD3V7JYoS7r9bAxRJyfv/s320/cath4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the
sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed
only if there is a light from within.”</span><br />
<u><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.ekrfoundation.org/quotes/">Elisabeth Kubler-Ross</a></span></u></blockquote>
Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-30320426789977749722015-05-21T11:17:00.002+03:002015-06-26T17:38:05.861+03:00On Moving On<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Note: I've been a bad blogger and blog-hopper lately. I got sick twice already this year (both times on antibiotics), been so busy with work and other things in my life (including lovely travels). Kinda overwhelmed now with the thought of having to catch up on things, but I'll do it slowly. I'll be less busy in a few weeks, so I'll blog hop then, but now need to share this post.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFlTwoZ8NJxxrxV6MgMoadhHGq9uAlWO43tC0mf0oX7y8IUaRmTvcEAbF11hQ9NLY3wsT9tjKchxj2PUViZAr7dC75wgZHnM85unq8htB8YI8lXpbqjOBNEI5aUmoIirL5XEBCX9BdCXe/s1600/Peacock.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFlTwoZ8NJxxrxV6MgMoadhHGq9uAlWO43tC0mf0oX7y8IUaRmTvcEAbF11hQ9NLY3wsT9tjKchxj2PUViZAr7dC75wgZHnM85unq8htB8YI8lXpbqjOBNEI5aUmoIirL5XEBCX9BdCXe/s320/Peacock.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A while back someone wrote me an email, saying something roughly like this, "Ummm...I don't know the details of your infertility history, but I recall that you've told me that you've moved on. However, I notice that you still share links about infertility and you still write infertility-related stuff in your wall posts in FB and that makes me worried that you haven't really moved on at all."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cue the sound of me falling off my chair. Okay, not literally, but it seriously made me shocked on several levels. First of all, how dare she tell me whether I have moved on or not, especially since she doesn't know the details and doesn't bother to know the details! I couldn't help but think that she thought I was in denial or something!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Secondly, I felt cold all over a few seconds later because her email left me with this thought: "Is that what the general public think of when they see my infertility-related links in my FB? That I haven't really moved on?" What a staggering thought! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I then asked another individual about her opinion whenever she saw an infertility-related link that I shared in FB. Her response was different. She said, "Well, I know you enough to know that if you tell me X, you mean X. So if you've told me you've moved on, then I know you've moved on. Secondly, it's a huge part of your life, so it's only natural that you'll want to talk about it."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What a relief! But then again she knows my story and she knows the details. Even though she probably doesn't understand fully, yet she has followed my story, but what about the general public? It's not that I care that much about what other people think, but what is staggering for me is the possible misconception about moving on in general (specifically in a case of a childless-not-by-choice life). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, I explained to the person who emailed me that childless-not-by-choice was like losing a real person. The difference was that I didn't have any memories to hold on to. And if she thought that <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>moving on</b></span> meant that I had to stop talking about it completely, then she had it all wrong. After all, if you've lost a person dear to you, moving on after your beloved's death doesn't entail never talking about that person ever again, because you loved him/her and even though he/she is gone, you still love him/her. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjwxxJ4E4Ks5C3e5Pde6bVVyOajiO_X4wGu85_wvvWFf0NwR7qJVEp4x1BFCMRhtn4IOZVwnEFLqhb8KH-LWLoK-IotjxIdGAFr8v5e9suZdbOg-v-it3afo2HTy57dZSkyhHwWCsiJRpM/s1600/Sj10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjwxxJ4E4Ks5C3e5Pde6bVVyOajiO_X4wGu85_wvvWFf0NwR7qJVEp4x1BFCMRhtn4IOZVwnEFLqhb8KH-LWLoK-IotjxIdGAFr8v5e9suZdbOg-v-it3afo2HTy57dZSkyhHwWCsiJRpM/s320/Sj10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just wondering: has anyone of you ever encountered any conversation like this? </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-56671187361195978122015-03-31T12:57:00.003+03:002015-03-31T12:57:53.136+03:00Holding Space <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A friend sent me a link to an interesting article about holding space for someone else, but at the end of the article, I found out that there was another link about holding space for yourself first before you can hold space for other people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The first article reminded me of the struggle I had with jealousy, grief, anger, etc. in the beginning of my infertility journey. At that time I felt the desire to fight them and chase them away, but after some exhaustion and failure, I began to wonder if I was actually supposed to just embrace them as they were without trying to fix/change them and whether the act of embracing them would enable me to be less judgmental when someone else was experiencing those (ugly) feelings that I tried to keep at bay. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, here are the two articles:</span><br />
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<u><a href="http://heatherplett.com/2015/03/how-to-hold-space-for-yourself-first/"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Holding Space for Yourself</span></a></u></div>
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<u><a href="http://heatherplett.com/2015/03/hold-space/"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Holding Space for Other People </span></a></u></div>
Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-43184723192044235702015-03-19T11:38:00.000+02:002015-03-19T11:40:12.457+02:00The Badge<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Haven't been blogging or blog-hopping. Been busy with work, being sick (yeah, I finally couldn't avoid it in the end), busy with life and some travel plans this year. I'll catch up on blogging later. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">****************</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the beginning of my infertility journey, when I wore the badge called <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"infertile"</b></span>, my close friends' reaction took me by surprise. After that one year was up, their reaction made me think that I wasn't supposed to call myself an infertile (just yet) and it made me wonder if I jinxed myself if I used that term to describe myself. For me at that time, though, it was more of a clinical term. I needed a term to call myself so that I knew where to find more info on what to do next. That meant reading a lot of infertility blogs out there for my research. After a while, though, that term began to grow on me. I got used to it and other people started to get used to it, too. So from then on I wore that badge while I tried to navigate life in all its complications of wearing that badge. I clung to that badge, trying to find connection, understanding, support, and direction. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After we decided to turn to childlessness-not-by-choice road, slowly the title on the badge turned into <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"infertility survivor"</b></span>. The further away the healing took me, the more endearing the badge became to me. Funny how the old badge called "infertile" had a totally different feeling to it. I wasn't ashamed at that old badge, but that badge carried a whole different world to it. That badge contained so much confusion due to the roller-coaster ride that we went through each month. That old badge was a mother lode (pun intended) of chaos and brokenness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These days, though, I've felt <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>another shift</b></span>. These days I no longer wear that badge daily. I even <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>forget </b></span>to put on that badge sometimes. I've just realized this recently, especially after talking to a mother about her challenges the other time. She openly told me stuff that made me felt privileged to be the listener and to my surprise, my "infertility survivor" persona didn't appear. Instead, when she was confiding those private stuff to me, what appeared was just <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b>"Amel the human being"</b></span>. That way I could respond to her accordingly. In the past, sometimes the infertile/infertility survivor persona automatically appeared and it took every bit of my power to take a step back and focus on the other person's story first instead of focusing on my pain/grief/needs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, I can't believe it's almost the end of March already! Where did time go? However, I do enjoy the coming of spring (I've also been enjoying some Easter chocolate LOL!) and afterwards summer to Lapland! </span><br />
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Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-40001218313560710032015-02-25T13:02:00.001+02:002015-02-25T13:02:26.687+02:00Busy Bee<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Been busy with stuff, so haven't been blog-hopping or blogging much. Haven't had too much inspiration, either. Plus I'm now spreading myself even more by trying to write more regularly in my Finnish blog, so I need time to recuperate in between. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, for those who want to see the article, here goes. It's a mobile phone photo. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTPJx_rTVHUUO7gpHrLvKNUpLjqyp7IybKoltoWyUcF8DHxf-qgaSvm4jb7N9P3NYTQBFaTUHJhyphenhyphencahMTrtsjT_EBTGhkv7eXFEFPG01MMSh5ryShtVFK9knYGZQceHehWZC-0_Bw7ldB/s1600/DSC_0073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTPJx_rTVHUUO7gpHrLvKNUpLjqyp7IybKoltoWyUcF8DHxf-qgaSvm4jb7N9P3NYTQBFaTUHJhyphenhyphencahMTrtsjT_EBTGhkv7eXFEFPG01MMSh5ryShtVFK9knYGZQceHehWZC-0_Bw7ldB/s1600/DSC_0073.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Other than being busy, I'm trying not to get sick. My boss is currently sick and I hope it won't spread to us, because we're already having pretty full schedule now that the winter holiday season has started amongst us. That said, I've been rewarding myself with some alcoholic-filled Easter chocolate at home ha ha ha ha ha ha...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These beauties are really good! </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIURk-BUhAsXwTg24wCVXEgZ6rSBWuUTS2raub3TeMAbnIj8N3XDTgWurpqwJh_ST2nuVIGwoM1cop6wnXzjNVbyLMIlmItWZG7G1jMCoARRbogHi_75QNuqke17PcEZ6rAaQuHOlGkHr/s1600/Chocolate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIURk-BUhAsXwTg24wCVXEgZ6rSBWuUTS2raub3TeMAbnIj8N3XDTgWurpqwJh_ST2nuVIGwoM1cop6wnXzjNVbyLMIlmItWZG7G1jMCoARRbogHi_75QNuqke17PcEZ6rAaQuHOlGkHr/s1600/Chocolate.JPG" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-389217180689999852.post-63345105527218353472015-02-10T11:24:00.000+02:002015-02-10T11:48:32.197+02:00Tears Without Pain<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm PMSing at the moment and I've been a crybaby (as usual, getting touched so easily/crying so easily if I see/watch/read a touching event/story). The other day I saw a touching scene on TV between a mother and her daughter and I instantly shed some tears <span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><b><span style="color: #b4a7d6;">without</span> </b></span>any twinge, any pain, any grief on my part. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There was an instant when I thought to myself, "Oh, how beautiful it is to be able to have that moment with your own child" but it was more like a moment when you see someone else's magnificent photos (your not being a photographer yourself nor do you attempt to be a photographer) and you're so touched by their beauty that you can't help blurting out, "WOW! To be able to witness all those moments/places and to be able to capture them in their glory must be something!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I want to write this down for future use, as this is the first time I've felt something like this. That moment surely felt <span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><b>surreal</b></span>. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh621OyPvmmJuLICHY2iMBoETrGlpNERH04pToEoqpCWeyDDXvsqV5wxksNik7xrhzpI0TGIb5Np04DPHPgPJVGM5Q9FdQItE8oJQ89vokeqtX1wxKVE5lCWFd7vNBKncmpBYrMc_7T1DnA/s1600/Sky.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh621OyPvmmJuLICHY2iMBoETrGlpNERH04pToEoqpCWeyDDXvsqV5wxksNik7xrhzpI0TGIb5Np04DPHPgPJVGM5Q9FdQItE8oJQ89vokeqtX1wxKVE5lCWFd7vNBKncmpBYrMc_7T1DnA/s1600/Sky.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That said, I felt something when I saw an article on myself in the newspaper (it covers Lapland). You see, a few weeks ago a reporter contacted me because he was writing an article on expats in Lapland and I agreed to be interviewed. I assumed he was covering other expats, too. Turned out the article was only about me (Doh! My introvert side cringed!). Anyway, during the interview I told him that we had no kids because the interview was also about what kind of services that expats needed or what challenges expats were facing. I mentioned our childless state to let him know that I couldn't give any input in terms of daycare/school and stuff like that. And no, he didn't ask why we were childless.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The article came out last week and when I read the part where "she and her husband have no kids", I felt something. I searched my heart to figure out what I was feeling...I believe it was <span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><b>fear/worry</b></span>. <span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><b>Fear/worry of being judged</b></span> by random people. It was hard not to wonder what the article readers thought about that sole fact. It was one thing to let selected people/my regular customers know that we have no kids, but I have no clue who else the readers of the article could be and how many of them had read the article. It was not only the scale of the article (as opposed to talking one-to-one), but also the fact that it was written in black-and-white for the public eye to see, I suppose. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, funnily enough I was also somewhat glad that the article mentioned my age (the reporter was very polite, he even asked me for permission first if he could ask about my age or not with a very apologetic look on his face he he he...), because people here think I'm younger than my real age. Even though people here don't pry about children as much as Indo people, a few of them have blurted out, "Ah, you still have time" when I told them that we had no kids (without giving further explanation). </span>Amelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16792921371964029469noreply@blogger.com3