Oh Sweet Friendship

The one thing that became rather apparent to me over the past year, is the importance of friendship in my life.

I wouldn’t call myself an extrovert.  I never liked the big mingle networking events at work and business school, was never a social butterfly.  But throughout my life, I always enjoyed building relationships that are deep and true, one at a time.  It was only this past year, when many have supported me from near and far through my struggles, that I realized the amazing number of good friends I have all around the world, and the depth of those friendship, that transcends time and space.  Even my therapist thought I had so many astonishingly wise people around me, and for that I felt truly blessed.

Tina, my mentor and the big sister I never had, came to visit me in Nelson for a whirlwind of 1.5 days from Taiwan after her golfing trip, and the jet-setter that she is, is going to Paris and Portugal afterwards.  It was so wonderful to see her, we talked just about every minute we were awake, shared laughter and tears.  Yesterday when dropping her off at the airport, I felt an intense sadness, almost like this January when I was leaving Taiwan.  The moments when I felt I could be myself and relaxed, fleeing right before my eyes.  I knew I had to wipe off my tears, and once again take a deep breath to go back to the “work” of my life.

It was an interesting observation I had, that I am happiest, when I can be authentic and wholeheartedly true to myself.  Those moments used to be when I was at home, to gain the strength and fill my tank, with my deepest support from home, then I would be ready to face the world, no matter how hard things are outside.  

Over the past year, that dynamic and feeling, the sense of safety at home, unfortunately went away for me,  I still showed up for the “job” the best I could — the house is still in decent cleanliness, the meals are still made from time to time, laundry still washed and folded, but I had no mental energy beyond that.  When the connection at home was lost, and all the moments I felt I had to tip toe around broken eggshells, life at home became really draining for me.  It still is.  I know that in my anxiety around getting up for the day - I used to be the kind of person that hops out of bed the minute I am awake, now I often lay still in bed, for a long time, gathering the courage to face the day feeling utterly alone and a little bit stuck.  And that feeling of loneliness when the connection is lost in the most important relationship of my life, the foundation of my life — my marriage, spilled over to me shying away from showing up for my children emotionally as well.  

I am working through that by looking at it with at much awareness and observing my heart as truthfully as possible.  Perhaps, it is an adjustment of my role as a mother, to shed the pressure that I used to put on myself approaching motherhood with the intensity and focus on perfectionism that I have, and also re-examining the role model I had for this, my grandmother, who always shows up with the perfect sense of selflessness, was simply an unattainable goal.  I am not sure if that is just a rebellion phase for adjustment, or if there is greater wisdom to be gained.  But I know where my heart is at, and it is no longer at home, which was how I functioned, for all those 49 years of my life.

Instead, I am grateful, for the friends that allowed me to be 100% me.  They became a sanctuary, a source where I draw strength from, who sees the virtue of my discernment and truthfulness and enjoys my company, my opinions, are happy to the recipient of my love language of thoughtfulness and food.  There are old friends, from my childhood, from work, from school, and there are new friends made, serendipitously, through circles I never socialized with before (for example, tango), that I realized even at this late stage in life, I can still make really really good new friends, as long as I open my heart to receive the gift of friendship.  My new “joy luck club” of the two new friends that I have here locally, and the deep bonding we shared over such a short period of time, is an example of that.

I suppose we are hard wired for social connections.  Humans are not meant to exist in solidarity from an evolutionary sense.  I had always come alive in those moments of deep connection.  This past year when I was questioning myself about those needs and values, through the lens of Mic who think completely differently about human connections, made me query if it is weakness of my reliance on others and that we must draw more from within.  I guess it is not a right or wrong question, but rather a deeper understanding of self, and knowing what makes me “me”, what makes me tick, what makes me smile.  

And I know, I am my best self, when bathed in the sweetness of friendship.

 

8 Years On…

How do I capture life in the past 8 years in one single post?

New Zealand life, as we started out, a young family with Jack and Veronique being 3 and 1, to the 11 and 9-year-olds they are today.   Needless to say, a lot has happened, and we have fully embraced that change, for most of those 8 years.

We finally are able to say out loud to people that we have retired, instead of feeling awkward and slightly shameful like we haven’t fully achieved giving our fullest in the professional world, and make up some lame thing we do, like investing and manage finances for ourselves, just trying to sound normal and fit in, when in fact, that takes so little of our hours and focus.

We are full time parents.  We watched the kids ride their bikes without balance wheels for the first time, learn to swim, learn to play the violin and the piano, make friends, teach them the value of money by making them do local paper delivery rounds and earn their own pay cheque, see them busking at the farmers market and use those funds to buy a kayak, a GoPro.   We bought tents, hiked and camped, bought a campervan, did roadtrips, including a 67-day trip to the North Island trip together (speaking of being together 24/7 in close quarters, you can’t get any closer than that).  We played games, lots and lots of them - Catan, Azul, Cacassone, 7 Wonders, Splendor, mexican train, unstable unicorn, … you name it, we have probably played it.  We know our children like the back of our hands, see their every mood and reaction.  They were blessed with wonderful teachers in their lives, from our adopted Kiwi nana Raelene that was their preschool teacher, to their wonderful inspiring violin teacher Tamsin.  We even homeschooled, one year for Veronique and two years for Jack.

We learned new skills.  Moving from the glamour of city life with a balcony and some house plants and herbs pots to a house with land and garden and trees.  So we planted, lots and lots of trees — avacado, cherries, pear, apple, figs (4 varieties), peaches (3 varieties), apricots, lime, lemon, and quince.  We grew some of our own food in a vegetable garden.  We learned to compost.  I even did a soil microbiology course learning about the interconnectedness of bacteria, fungi, nematodes and microarthropods.  We can chop wood and start a fire with ease now.  We fix things around the house because there is no one to call. We adapted to NZ life.

We cooked.  Or rather, I cooked, and they ate.  We created world cuisines in our home just because we couldn’t get them in the neighborhood like we used to.  I learned to make so many things from scratch.  I started to become very interested in knowing where my ingredients come from, so I got to know a number of the small farmers around, supporting little businesses and causes that are dear to my heart.  We hosted meals and banquet gatherings trying to make new friends, and my food at home is nicknamed “The Delicious Cafe” by the children.

We struggled and thrived.  The remoteness of our life gave us a sense of solidarity but can be incredibly lonely at times.  We turned to each other and strengthened that sense of family and togetherness, of the four of us.  We made friends, a handful only, but somehow those relationships are deeper than I have ever imagined them to be.  I have people and shoulders to cry on when I am upset, and people to laugh and celebrate milestones with.  I was grateful for everything.

Life was perfect.  I was content.  Until I was not.

The perfect storm hit just after three years of COVID lock-down and our regular trips to visit family and friends overseas ceased with no warning.  Mic’s mother passed away just at the beginning of that time.  His father re-married soon after.  I went through a short depression in December 2022 with no apparent cause.  Then, it seems like a mid-life crisis in the making that eventually made us feel the full brunt of our lack of our understanding of ourselves, our marriage and family started to crumble in March 2023.  

The last year, to say it was hard, was probably an understatement.  It was the hardest thing and the biggest challenge I have been through in my life.  Everything that I had built up to this point seem to have lost meaning.  More tears were shed and more insomnia and sleepless nights than I have ever experienced.  I lost 7 kilograms in one year, unintentionally returning to the weight I had when I was in high school.  I went to therapy, read over 60 books in one year about vulnerability, conflict, the art of loving, emotional inheritance, forgiveness, religion, searching for meaning and understanding.  

And gradually, I went from drowning, franticaly swinging my arms to gasp air at the surface, to slowly being dragged to shore, by the love and understanding of those who stood by me, family that showed unconditional love, friends old and new that was willing to see me for who I am and encourage me and hold me gently.  And slowly, I am finding my feet on the ground again.  I look back at the entries of this blog, the words written, and the path travelled.  I still have this tremendous faith that all things in life happen for a reason, pain, is the necessary propellor of growth.  And I am growing.

As for when I will reach the other side of this dark tunnel and what awaits me at the end of this journey of self-discovery, I don’t know and am not looking for an answer, even though traveling without a direction in the thickest fog is the hardest thing for me, but I am learning to accept, that life cannot be rushed, no matter how agonizing it may seem at the time.  I can only do so with eyes wide open, willing to see pain and see the silver lining that I am still tremendously blessed, therefore I should not give up on myself.

Patience, and sometimes, just learn to sit, and breathe.