Month: February 2021

Posted on in Blog

The toxic woman who shaped my life

The first time I saw her, she reeked of bitterness, like sweat clinging to a damp body. She moved with a heavy gait, her left leg digging deep into the carpet before switching to her right.

She had a curtness about her which she displayed everytime she spoke about teenage girls. She hated — no despised teenage girls. To her they were loud, and gossipy. But deep down, I could tell that she was envious of youth and the hopes and dreams they still had. Thank goodness she only had boys.

I often wondered, “how the hell is she even married?” But of course, we choose who we show our best side to. And she reserved her nasty side for me.

One Friday morning, after I’d finished hosting my regular community event, I was having morning tea with a colleague when she stormed in and accused me of not packing up.

I was frightened and embarassed of being outed in front of another colleague, so I quickly took off in her direction, leaving my food and my phone sitting on the table. Later, my colleague returned my phone to me and reported this incident to a superior.

There were many instances like this where she would be hostile towards me, and then switch to her good side when talking to another colleague. You never knew which side of her you got and that was the scary part.

Fortunately for me, I was young and ambitious. Despite my naive and loofheaded demeanor, I was no pushover. And although my heart would prickle with anger everytime she spoke to me like that, I used it to work harder behind the scenes.

At the time, I didn’t have any marketable skills, so I couldn’t up and leave my job for a new one. But I took her threats as a challenge for me to change. At night, I’d teach myself how to code, usually waking up at 3am with a sudden clarity of thought, telling myself, I don’t want to be like her. I don’t want to be like her. That would drive me to study harder, writing in my notebook until the wee hours of the morning.

One day, I caught her in a good mood — a rarity. I was alone in the back having morning tea when she popped in to talk to me. My shoulders tensed when I saw her, but I kept my composure and engaged in friendly chitchat with her. I was surprised to find that she had romantic inclinations in her youth. She told me how she always wanted to be a blogger, and write, but life had gotten in the way; she had met her husband at university, had gotten married and had children. Thirty years later, her soft and luscious dreams had crisped and dried out, turning her into a bitter woman.

At the time, I found it strange that she had popped in to talk to me, but now, looking back, I think it was a sign that I needed to get my act together and start working hard towards my future.

Eight months later, after one failed interview, I finally got a job at a small design studio.

I remember her last and final dig at me. We were packing up for the day. I was standing behind the counter, tidying some books when she confronted me about something that I cannot remember. By then, there was a steadfastness in me. I had accomplished what I’d set out to accomplish, and I wasn’t going to let this lady push me around anymore. So I spoke back to her. She spoke back and we engaged in a bit of sparring. I waited for her to have the last word, but instead she grunted, huffed and puffed and to my surprise, no words came out of her mouth. She backed down and I knew from that day on, she wouldn’t scare me anymore.

A week later, I left to start my new job.

The last I heard of her, she had resigned out of stress-related reasons.

Now, 4 years later, it’s time for change again. Thinking about it brings up memories of the first time I brought about change. Back then, I didn’t remember feeling scared. I think I was so driven by the need to get away from that woman, that there was such an overpowering need to change. Often, when I look back, I feel grateful that I met her. If she had not been in my path, I would have stayed where I was, comfortable, but limiting my potential. We all have our reasons for change. But when the time comes, don’t be afraid to strike.

Posted on in Blog

The Simmer dim

One weekend, during the height of summer, my friends and I went on a roadtrip to Paihia. This was months before the nationwide lockdown. The days were long, and the nights were still very warm.

It was 9pm. I was sitting in the back of the car, and had just begun winding down from a long week at work. The sky outside was coloured with hues of purple and blue, the landscape had merged into a blur of pine trees, and the kabump of the car tyres on the winding roads fell into a steady rhythm.

It was around this time of the night, that I felt a familiar hum – that tingling feeling I got whenever I passed through a place or a moment that held the beginnings of a story. The hum was telling me to pay attention.

So I shifted my attention away from the window and back to the conversation in the car. My friend was telling us about something called the Simmer Dim. I asked him what it was. He said it was the name given to a day in the year when night never reaches complete darkness.

I recalled having this conversation because despite it being 9pm, it was still bright outside.

Simmer Dim, Simmer Dim, the words hummed in my ear. I pictured a glittering pool of water with animals congregating around it. There was something unusual and mysterious about that word. Like “the witching hour” in Roald Dahl’s book. It all contributed to the air of mystery around a certain time of the night.

That evening, I learnt that night-time had three shades; twilight, night and dark, like the shades of blue in a paint swatch.

It was dark by the time we arrived at our accommodation. I woke from my deep slumber and looked up at the house. A row of solar lights lit up the front porch, throwing hues of greens and blacks against the wall. My friend said something that made us all laugh. “Is this your parent’s house, or is this a hotel?” It was magnificent. Even in the darkness.

We grabbed our bags and clambered up the porch steps, tired but eager to see the house. Barely able to stand upright, we stumbled into the living room and dumped our bags on the floor.

Someone switched on the light and magically, one by one, our tired eyes lit up. In front of us was an island, with a walk-in pantry shelved with food. We drifted from room to room, admiring the paintings, the neatly-folded bedsheets, the warmly-lit bathroom and the dusky scent emanating from a nearby candle.

My sister and I chose to sleep in the bedroom with the cute window wall. It framed the backyard behind the house, like a painting. This wasn’t just any backyard. It was a forest, as dense as any forest here in NZ. You could walk from here all the way to another town. That was how deep it was.

My friend told us that one evening, when he was sitting by the front porch, he sensed that something was staring at him. When he looked up, he saw two eyes staring at him from inside the forest. A boar. He was sure of it. It was also what had eaten the meat his grandmother had left outside.

That evening, I drifted into a peaceful slumber, sinking my head into the soft pillow, a deep smile on my face, knowing that tomorrow was going to be a big day. This is the pleasure I derive from being in nature. This is the magic of nature.

Posted on in Blog

The day I realised I was average

I remember watching a David Attenborough documentary. There was a scene where a gazelle was running away from a cheetah.

I remember watching with bated breath thinking, ‘for sure the cheetah will catch the gazelle. She is the fastest animal on earth.’

But as the gazelle ran round in circles and zigzagged left and right, the cheetah slowly became tired.

And a thought popped up in my head.

Strong animals have weaknesses and weak animals have strength.

The cheetah’s strength was its speed, and it’s weakness was turning corners.

The gazelle’s weakness was that it couldn’t run as fast as the cheetah, but it could turn sharp corners with incredible speed.

I watched in awe as the cheetah slowly became tired, and turn by turn, the gazelle made its way to safety.

So I began to tell myself.

If strong animals have weaknesses and weak animals have strength, then go find yours.