turning twenty-two

I had intended to compose and post my Syawal blogpost before getting to this – but I'm turning twenty-two on thursday, I need to let out what I need to let out.

right.

recently, I've been recalling a lot of memories that I've had from when I was sixteen years old. that year was a year of immense change for me, and I never knew how far I would grow after the incidents that had happened on that year.

back then, I knew I was going through something, but I just didn't know what. I had gotten closer to several of my classmates, and I let myself be influenced by their presence. not to say that I regretted those friendships – I don't – but perhaps I could've made wiser and smarter decisions.

I disappointed a lot of people, especially myself. but I didn't let that phase me – I kept pushing myself until I snapped. and that was scary. I was taken out of school before the term had ended, but I was given a chance to move on to the next year so that I could complete my IB diploma and graduate from SOTA. initially, I had planned on leaving SOTA and go to Ngee Ann Polytechnic, because they had courses on Early Childhood there. however, our school system would render me unqualified to switch schools just like that.

what with my diagnosis, and the pressure placed on me as a student, I knew that I had to stay strong and fight. not everybody gets second chances, so I was determined to better when I started the school term again as a year 5 student.

of course, my classmates and close friends noticed how different I was.

I became so quiet and distant that the question, "why are you so quiet?" became a daily occurrence. I never answered, for the fear of them not accepting me, and because I didn't want to have to explain myself.

I came clean about my condition to a few friends at first, and after a while, they apologised for asking why I had changed.

several months passed, and I kept my head in my books and studied harder. I did grow complacent after the first semester, but after receiving my results and having consultations with my vice-principals (and several other teachers who knew) – I took it as a wake up call.

it's not easy having to wake up and battle your mind every single day.

six years ago, I was deluded – thinking that I was capable of handling everything while maintaining my grades.

...and this happened again two years ago.

now that I'm re-starting the semester as a year two student, the bitter memories that came before the first time I was a year two student in university have been lingering on my mind too.

my hesitance an indication of my reluctance to share what went down back then – but I've learnt a lot from my past.

1. do not over-commit:

I've been wondering what CCAs I would take up during the next semester, then I realised how packed my schedule is. I'm already working on the weekends, and finishing my diploma in Islamic Studies (I only have two modules to retake and I'll be done!). also, I've promised certain mothers to tutor their children on the weekdays, and I don't go back on my word – especially when it comes to education.

I would love to re-join Aikido again, and maybe even MJ – but it's best that I take it easy this semester. I'll probably just go back to MD if they'll have me.

2. be sincere in your apology:

saying sorry first matters. back in 2015, my pride blinded me to thinking that everything would be alright – despite the errors that I've made. you can't undo what has been done – the best thing you can do is to be sincere in your apology, and to not repeat that mistake again.

we all make mistakes. that's because we're human.

what matters is what we do after that mistake. if we truly want to become better versions of ourselves, then we have to be sincere in our apology, and our actions thereafter.

forgiving ourselves matter too.

there are countless of times that I've thought about a mistake I've made in the past, and regretting it instantly/start feeling remorseful about it – but then I remember that that was in the past – and the past is aways behind you.

say sorry to yourself, then don't repeat that mistake again.

3. letting people go:

there are many times in my life that I've thought about the people who were once close to me, and how utterly enamoured I was with them and their presence in my life. but people come and go, and I have to be okay with that.

I've had to distance myself from overbearing friends/classmates at certain times in my life, and that's okay. everybody has choices and options to make, and them leaving me/us growing apart is a normal part of life.

when life does give us a chance to get back together again, it's up to us to take that chance or to leave.

4. holding onto the people who matter:

after going through what I've gone through in my 21 years of existence, I realise how holding onto the right people matter. these people are the people who encourage you to pursue your dreams, and who confront you because they know that you can grow into a better version of yourself.

5. knowing your limits:

as a continuation to point number one, knowing your limits is important. pushing yourself too hard to complete whatever you need to complete when you're overcommitted can affect your performance as a student.

6. sorting out your priorities:

this is especially important when you have responsibilities to uphold and duties to complete. back then I didn't think much about the deadlines, and simply did what seemed right. I neglected what was crucial, and prioritised the tasks that I would enjoy doing more.

having that sort of mentality/behaviour took it's toll when it came down to final submissions/assignments. when it came to delivering what was expected, I could not deliver to the best of my abilities because I had too little time.

I used to be able to complete what I had to complete as quickly as possible back in freshman year. but we live and we learn, and I've learnt how important it is to set practical expectations on yourself as a student and how time management matters.

7. Allah first, always:

she writes as her last point. but really though – when you put Allah first, there's a lot of hidden blessings that come your way. I thought about including this point as I was praying Asar earlier.

...

now that I have a somewhat better control over my life, I just hope that I can continue being a good/better version of myself: the me who is a daughter, student, writer, teacher/tutor, and friend.

ready to write her next posts,
this girl you call nurul.

ps: with only ten nine days left of july, I'm going to try my best to post the blogposts that I've promised myself to publish this month.
pps: the photos included in this post are those I took back in 2011, back when life was much more simpler for me.

from my heart to yours,

"...there's no such thing as too much love," she told me, as I stood next to her, admiring her talent, and her wisdom. back in february this year, my school held a valentine's day art market, and I struck up a conversation with two vendors.

I agreed – after all, this vendor was a mother, and had years of experience dealing with relationships. back when I was fourteen and struggling with my emotions, a teacher had told me, "maybe it's just too much love" – as if I had to believe that what he had said was the truth.

I had confided in him how I didn't want to disappoint the people around me – especially my family members. I loved my parents so much that I pushed myself to meet to their expectations, and when I felt like I couldn't – it strained me. it affected my behaviour in school, and my classmates were constantly wondering why I would suddenly break down into tears.

little did I know, those moments of overwhelming emotions would lead to something much worse.

every single year, after reaching thirteen, I experienced a period of time where I would be utterly confused by the way I felt – and how I was processing my emotions. my parents thought I was going through a phase – an "identity crisis" – they labelled it.

I had a strong sense of self – and I knew who I was, but my emotional state got the better of me. slowly, I would withdraw, and distance myself from my friends, only to let rumours consume my thoughts. I'd fight them (i.e. those thoughts), telling myself that those words weren't true.

I thought that those phases I went through would be over once I matured.

at fifteen, starting school in a new campus was exciting. I just re-read my old blogposts (now kept as drafts) that I wrote seven years ago. I remembered how I loved being surrounded by friends, and making new ones.

but there were certain moments that affected me. times when certain classmates stopped participating in their activities because I joined them, or when I heard more talk spread about me. it didn't help when one of the nosier classmates blatantly called out people who talked about me in my presence.

I grew quiet and distant again, refusing offers to hang out when my friends invited me to.

all I wanted to do was to get back to the shophouse I used to live in. to hide away, and keep my head down in all the projects and assignments we had to complete. our overseas immersion program trip happened, and I was delighted to know that I was going to be travelling to Yunnan, China.

when I asked why I was selected to go to that country (along with another muslim classmate) and not another country where most of my muslim classmates went, I got an answer that I loved.

"It's because you two are the more independent ones."

I loved the independence we got to have when we traveled. a lot of us bonded, and my assigned room mate is actually a course mate in my university today. talk about coincidence.

when I received the news of my maternal grandmother passing away, I completely broke down. I was re-assigned room mates, and a lot of my friends grew closer, and kinder towards me. my friend told me, "maybe that's why you have a high fever."

when we went up to the mountains, I stayed close to her.

I let the snow cool my heavy heart, and little joy that we shared throwing snowballs at each other fill my empty soul.

I found that I relied heavily on the strength of the people around me, because they loved me. even when we got back to singapore, and the closer friends found out what had happened – they were careful, and still giving, lending me their arms when I needed an embrace.

the year that I turned sixteen will always be year I remember. I grew mellow, but confused. despite everything that had happened so far, I was determined to stay strong. however, I was too swayed by certain people, and I let their presence affect me. I was overwhelmed by what people around me thought of me. I let myself go and I lost it.

looking back now at the events that had occurred six years ago, I realised how neglected I was when it came to me addressing my own emotional and mental health. people were telling me this and that, but I lost my own voice in the process. I fought my mind, telling myself to listen and follow the advice of the professionals I saw.

when I was allowed back in school, I was silenced by my fears. the jovial and bubbly girl my friends were familiar with became cold, and quiet. I kept studying, but got complacent after the first semester. then I expressed what I needed to express, and published the thoughts my friends/classmates should see.

my love to succeed drove me to look past all the countless hospital appointments and consultations. every single pill I swallowed simply became a routine for me. I kept my head in my books, and pushed on. I let my studies define me, and I grew resilient. when people had demeaning conversations about mental health, I simply listened to their careless rants, letting their true nature unfold before me.

being sad is not a hobby.

I once said that I'd rather be depressed than to relapse into a state of mania. I've hurt people because I got too carried away with the happiness I found in the relationships I had. it strained the hearts of the people I loved, and that broke me.

there was a time when I didn't allow myself to feel happy.

because I was afraid of relapsing into a high which I hated.

having saved, and re-read conversations that I've had with the people that matter this year made me realise how important it is to love and forgive yourself.

there are bound to be aspects of yourself that you can love. characteristics and traits that make you loveable to the people who have chosen to stay by your side.

just before valentine's day this year, I made a decision to reconnect with a friend-turned-soul-brother. in the midst of our conversations, he asked me, "please tell me you've found somebody to spend your valentine's day with."

I told him that I did.

but what I didn't tell him, was that I spent that day with many hearts I loved so dearly. I fell back into friendship with people I treasured, and it is through those meaningful connections that I've learnt, time and again, how to fall back in love with myself.

"let's be real," a soul sister from my school told me earlier this year, "love from another person can't cure mental illness."

I agreed and replied, "you have to cure yourself."

"Choosing to be positive starts with you. You have to cure yourself. You can’t depend on any other person. It is really out of pure love for myself and pure forgiveness. To some people, it is easy to forgive themselves but for some, it’s hard. You have to learn how to let go in order to move on in life. 

I’d tell myself, hey, I love you, and I forgive you because it is okay to make mistakes. Mistakes and failures are your best teachers. Your best teacher was your last mistake. Without them, no one can go anywhere. Success is defined by how well you pick yourself up after you fail.

When I compare my length of struggle to other people, their timeline is way longer and the severity of their condition is much worse, but look at us now. There was no need for me to worry at all. Everybody’s anxiety is different and tailored to their own life.

Before university, I thought was a nobody. A secure place to pursue my tertiary education was my complete and utter priority. That made my me fall back into severe depression, but the fact that I knew that I had this has made all the difference.

I knew that my anxiety was there to warn me. Relapsing is a part of recovering. Tears don’t mean that you are weak, no. Tears are proof that you are alive. We have been blessed with the ability to feel, so let yourself feel. Emotions are a beautiful aspect of life, and we need to embrace that, in order to appreciate all that is good in this world.

Medicine, to me, is just technology. The one who truly heals you is Allah. He made me suffer every anxiety attack, experience every relapse, gave me conditions to make me feel triggered: just to make me closer to Him.

I will never not be grateful for every single trial and hardship that has been sent my way. I have conditioned myself to be immune to every sort of abuse. They say that people with a broken past have the brightest future. This is true. “Let your past make you better, not bitter."

so, love. there's no such thing as too much of it. our lives are better because of it. I wrote in my earlier blogpost that I'd be writing posts about the conversations I've had surrounding love. this is one of them. for some reason, I can't compose a cohesive conclusion in this blogpost. perhaps I need a little more inspiration before I can do so.

already composing her next posts,
the girl who calls herself nurbzee online,
nurulhuda.

Reaching July

how is it the seventh month of the year already? the year I turn twenty-two (although I already am twenty-two in the islamic calendar) has been really amazing and meaningful so far. by the time I reached july, I thought I would have been done with all the stories (including the illustrations/covers) that I owe my publishers, I'll be re-starting the next semester as a year two student in NTU, ADM, and I'll be (I was about to write financially stable) pocket strong (as one of my auntie besties/ex-colleague from Singapore Art Museum once told me).

I wrote a letter to june, and I wanted it to be month of healing. it was, and I am so, so grateful. growing up isn't easy – but I made it out alive and well. my education/academic path seems uncertain for now, and that's fine. after explaining my situation to a closer soul sister from school, she assured me, "...and don't worry, there's more than just one path in life. isn't that what makes life interesting."

that's true.

I may not even be graduating from NTU, and that's okay.

I've been recalling conversations that I had with my foundation classmates during freshman year – and how several classmates had to struggle with their pre-tertiary education before attaining a spot in university.

I always told them how I never wanted to be in ADM, because I never wanted to pursue a degree in the arts.

"six years in SOTA was enough. I grew to hate what I love, and to take a bachelors degree in the arts was the last thing I wanted to do."

but back then I had limited options. my international baccalaureate diploma score wasn't the most amazing – yet, I was offered a spot in this school – so I accepted it. initially, I wanted to take my diploma in Early Childhood Education/Psychology at Ngee Ann Poly, then continue taking my bachelor's degree in Early Childhood Education at Singapore Institute of Technology (because the IB diploma could not qualify for the course offered at SIT).

now there is an option to pursue what I've always wanted to: a bachelor's degree in Early Childhood at Singapore University of Social Sciences.

I suppose that the events that have unfolded in my life so far can be taken as blessings in disguise. when I had my Girls Day In with my closer girlfriends from SOTA, one of them told me that my parent's decision to make me continue my tertiary education locally was a good thing. I know how advanced the Early Childhood Education scene is in Sydney and Melbourne – but my parents discouraged me from applying to overseas university for the sake of my mental health.

back when we were SOTA students and attaining our IB diploma was our priority (because we only had our PSLE and a "completion-of-four-years-secondary-education" certificate), my girls disliked that I wanted to go to a polytechnic, instead of a university.

"no, you would already have a diploma – so you should just further your studies in a university!"

when I got my results I was pleased with my progress – but I had certain conversations that brought my self-esteem down (leading to my severe depression, and the panic/anxiety attacks that came with it). I was so upset when ADM offered me a place in their school, but grateful, so I followed my parents advice and took it.

of course, I was overcome by insecurities by my fear of the unknown, but having heard stories from the people I met during my freshman orientation camp eased my state of being. we confided in each other and I learnt how they too, had to overcome their fair share of struggles to get to where they want to be.

if I hadn't gone to university, I wouldn't have met the people who become my friends. these strangers who share their load and burdens with me because we grow to trust each other inevitably become my family. and of course, I've had to come to terms with the people who have made the choice to leave me.

looking back at my life, and at the people who have come and gone – I can say for certain that everything does happen for a reason. whether that reason is clear to us or not (or the truth behind those reasons will be revealed eventually), everything in life has shaped us into the people that we are today.

I still remember the words I've read on the pages/wordpress/blogs from other individuals who have made an impact on my life as a fellow writer and human being. we've all changed – sometimes those changes are more obvious, while other changes that we observe are more subtle.

change is the only constant in this life, and it's necessary for growth.

we all have it in us to change ourselves for the better.

this Ramadan has certainly taught me how much I need to work on myself. the things I wanted to get done were finished – but there are things that I've yet to complete. we all have our limitations, flaws, and imperfections – those are the qualities that make us human.

this is the first of several blog posts I will be publishing this month (for I am swamped with writing at the moment). look out for the next few: those specifically for Syawal, and others based on the conversations I've had around love.

homesick for the warmth of my soul family,

this writer still writing,

nurulhuda.

"in 4 years, you'll be a year two uni student"

...if I heard these words when I was 16, I'd break down in gratitude.

Back in 2011, I suffered a major backlash, both in academics and emotional stability. Needless to say, it affected my self-esteem and confidence by heaps. I couldn't be bothered to carry on in life. I despised every single morning I woke up again. I didn't want my life. I didn't want to surround myself with people every day. I didn't ask for this. Nobody asked me if I could have this. Nobody should have to go through this, ever.

Relapse after relapse, I distanced myself away from the people who cared for me. I withdrew myself from everyone I knew and was instantly silenced, my voice drowned out by my own sorrow. My sadness came in waves, then tides, leaving me with no air to breathe. I couldn't swim and my legs refused to kick. My lungs shut down, dismissing my cries of oxygen. I didn't want this life. Anytime someone came hoping to rescue me, I'd force myself to sink down, lower and lower until they couldn't see me anymore.

I didn't want to be saved.

"Leave me to drown. It's not like I'm getting anywhere if I survive, anyway."

Oh no, no, no.

If I could find my sixteen year old self, I'd embrace her, tell her it's not her fault, no. You're not weak for crying. Relapse is part of recovery. You say you're not strong enough, but you'll be the strongest you've ever been. You can choose to live. Every single day is a new chance for you to grow stronger, and you will, you will, you will. You'll graduate. Your family love you. Your friends love you. You tell me they don't care, but they think of you every day. Can't you see how they're hurting seeing you like this? You say you don't care, but you do. You need to breathe and be brave. For yourself, no one else, but you.

She would have never believed, she'd jump 10 whole points when she receives her IB diploma. Two years of pain, tears and stress. It will be worth it, so worth it in the end. A university will offer her a place in their school. She'll meet new friends, who are beautiful, talented, supportive, and she'll learn that she was never alone. She has never been alone. Everyone has fought their battle. Like her, they've won.

The first year will be tough. You will suffer panic attacks. Some teachers are mean, but there are teachers who genuinely care. There will be friends who will not want your friendship, but there will be friends who will more than just your friends. They'll be your family. They'll see you cry, and no, you're not weak for crying. They know what you're going through. You'll see that you have never been alone. Not once.

Not ever.

In four years, Nurulhuda, in four years, you'll be in a place that you have never imagined to be. You've got people who admire your work. You've got friends and family who love and accept you for who you are, flaws, tears, scars and all. Your imperfections are beautiful. You'll finally accept that. You'll finally accept you.

Stay strong. Stay strong forever, and always, my love. I only have you in this life.

I love you.

Remember that.

A massive thank you to my friends, new, and old that I've met on my journey. It was a tough journey, without a doubt, and without your incredible support, I would have probably given up a long time ago. All your words have mattered more than you'll ever know. I may not have thanked you personally, but know that I love each and every one of you for the little things that you do. A kind word, a pat on my shoulder, a reassuring smile, a supportive message, long heart-to-heart chats, random gifts for no occasion. Every single gesture has not gone unnoticed. I truly appreciate everything that you have done, even though you've seen me at my worst. Even when I push you away, you never hesitate to welcome me back into your arms. You are the gems that I want to keep. Thank you. No amount of words will ever repay my eternal gratitude for your presence in my life.

Life updates 2.0

It's been a good 3+ months, m'dear

I've left SAM. Three months together – it was good while it lasted. At the beginning I was so excited. It'd be my first time ever experiencing a relationship like this.

Almost everyday I'd leave the house in anticipation to come meet him and the rest, my heart fluttering at the thought of being together for a whole day.

Learning under his guidance was enriching. Experiencing the fatigue was new to me. I'd been sheltered all my life; the others I'd nearly committed myself to were never enough.

Our lives got routinely towards our second month. I'd go over, set-up whatever was assigned and blazed through the first half of the day. Lunch became a mundane necessity that pulled me through the next half. Walking away from him felt like the only highlight of the day. I'd expected it, just like in the stories I've read and seen. Mentally preparing myself just wasn't enough.

Then I snapped.

It was terrifying. I hadn't expected this to happen to me, to us. Our other friends had to intervene. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and it was hard to face him again. Things couldn't go "back to normal" like they used to. It kept replaying over and over again in mind – it wasn't healthy – for the both of us, and the ones around us. Slowly, I started to distance myself, finding excuses not to leave the house. I was appalled at my own behaviour.

Two more weeks. Two more weeks and it'll be over.

I didn't think I'd ever hand to him that letter. I remember the first few days we spent together. I was so gung ho about it, so happy and willing to make it work.That was then, and I had to face reality. Two weeks didn't seem like much, given the time we'd already spent together, but it was excruciatingly difficult. Not just for me, but for my loved ones too. This relationship was costing more trouble than it was worth.

The days didn't seem to inch closer. They seemed stretched and far away, like I had to run a mile before I crossed the finish line. I couldn't run. I barely had the will to walk, let alone smile like he expected me to.

On the last day together, I was happy to be leaving. Which was sad, in a bittersweet way. There were so many pleasant memories we had shared with others but that one day clouded those memories.

Walking away from him felt exhilarating, given my state for the past weeks.

I'll still visit, see you soon!
I'll miss you, but you'll see me again.
Goodbye.

I hadn't announced my departure to the rest of our friends. I wanted to disappear and leave, as if my existence throughout my stay with him was like a dew drop rolling off a leaf. Beautiful, but temporary.


Nurul xx

ps: How's that for a bit of writing? I've hardly gotten in touch with my writer side – and describing a temporary job experience as a relationship was certainly worth the time. With all that said and done, I'll spend the rest of my July relaxing, crafting and having a meaningful Ramadhan.

Friends. Change. Letting go.

Today has been a good day so far. I wasn't expecting anything special after countless late nights tossing and turning on my bed thinking about my future. Despite that, my dear friends proved to me how the strength of friendship, trust and faith can overcome even the slightest challenges. To tell you the truth, ever since the incident, I never had faith in anyone, not even myself. Every single opportunity turn into doubt and I never really saw the light in anything. I was careless about my studies, fearful about my condition and unconcerned about my own emotions. I wasn't even bothered about making my own decisions, even if it were right or wrong. I let things happen the way they were, without any concern of the consequences.

I did realise my mistakes and every single time I told myself, "change!" – I would be motivated to do something about it, but it would quickly dwindle down to a hopelessness of knowing that I would never be able to get things right.

I was battling with myself, constantly debating how I could overcome my negative emotions yet, there was that nagging voice in my mind instantly putting down whatever I suggested. Every time there was a glimmer of hope for a positive outlook, that were thoughts on how I would fail no matter how hard I try.

I realised that I was fighting with myself for change. Then I realised that change is not instant. It is not immediate, and it is does not happen within a day, or even a week. During the times when I battled trying to change for the better, it did not last. I wanted my change to be obvious, to be quick, to be praised instantly. I now know why the attempts at turning over a new leaf were futile. I realised;

Change is little steps. You cannot expect everything to change at once. You need to make effort, little or big, one step at time. Change is not a miracle that happens in a matter of seconds; because you have to be your own miracle.

I know I was close to overcoming that pessimistic side of me. I have always been an optimist, since I was a child and I let that incident affect that part of me. I was tired of being unconcerned about my studies. I was tired of always over-thinking about what others may talk about behind my back. Why should I worry if people are talking about me? For all I know, I might have misinterpreted them, they might have been concerned about me...or (maybe) even noticing potential in me to be a better person.

I don't want to worry about those things anymore. I don't want to be someone who couldn't care less about where her worksheets were or whether I blatantly copied ideas off the internet.

If I wanted to change my situation, it starts with myself.


Prophet Muhammad s.a.w. had said (something along these lines)

"If you want to change the world, change yourself, reform yourself and call the people to the same process"

Change starts from within. And I knew I needed to deal with the aftermath of the incident. It was quite painful for me at first, coming to a realisation of how it was during that time. But I learned to quickly move on from the past. It is so unhealthy to dwell on past mistakes that have been long gone forgotten or forgiven. I had a habit of clinging on to sad or embarrassing moments that I know people would have forgotten by now.

I learnt, and I am still learning, of how to let go of all these past memories that I have clung on to in these past few years.

I also came to terms with my insecurity regarding myself around my friends. I know for sure, that my friends accept me for who I am, regardless my condition and now I truly know;

strength;
our bond will never tear apart. We will always stand by each other, through thick and thin. We can overcome any obstacles as long as we're together.

trust;
I shouldn't be afraid of telling you my problems. Bottling up my emotions and struggles is never healthy, and our friendship will always know that we will be there for each other. To console, support or advice; we will always be there for one another. I now know that running away from any trouble is the worst thing to do. I am ever thankful for your listening ears.

faith & fate;
our fates are up to us to determine. With the support and encouragement from friends like you, I know my future is bright. I have complete faith in our friendship, and even though next year is probably the last year we may ever see each other, our kindness, laughter and memories will forever remain in our hearts

♥

No amount of words can express the amount of gratitude I have for these wonderful people I call "friends". Please know that I love you, sincerely and from my heart.

– nurul