change and fear

I think that this is a topic I have written and rewritten about numerous times.

How I hate change, how the only constant in life is change, how we need to embrace change- it is the topic that keeps giving. Which brings me here:

I read this great Instagram post this year; It was a simple picture with the words “DO IT SCARED”. The writer spoke about his relationship with fear, and how often we wait for the fear to pass before we progress.

Aside from my steady relationship with Mr Procrastination, another lifelong friendship I have had is with Lady Fear. She has held me back and protected me from so many things in my life. I have very often felt scared. Again, the instability of younger years, has made me fearful in a number of aspects of my life. (Do I do that a lot or what? Whip out that “I had a messy childhood” bit)

Maxie McCoy has written this great article about changing your relationship with fear:

Fear is a crazy thing. It feels all consuming. It feels powerful. It seems like a thing that we should run far far away from. But actually, the opposite is true. Fear can be our north star, if we’re willing and able to get super, super uncomfortable…it’ll tell us exactly where we need to go:

Into it. Into the fear.

I have been mulling over big decisions and while I am used to hiding behind Lady Fear’s skirts, with the next parts of my life, I need to learn to hold her hand, albeit with a vice-like grip. I am going to be scared for a lot of reasons but also, I need to be able to be scared and yet, still able to move forward. I am in my ‘late twenties’ now. Goodness that sounds scary and foreign, and .. something I need to learn to accept.

How many times do we wait for fear to leave before we take a first step? ⁣
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I’ve done it too many times. I’ve waited too damn long. ⁣
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It’s time to do the thing I’m called to do in the midst of fear. In the midst of doubt and discomfort. All these negative things are part of life. Life is not life without them. So you might as well suck it up and get on with it. 

 

A good night’s sleep

It has been more difficult than usual to get a proper night’s sleep. I wake up a few times and I cannot always pin point the reason why. Sometimes it’s severe back pain, which could be a wear-and-tear thing, or in my paranoid mind, a kidney stone (which makes me drink as much water as I can get into myself the next day).

Sometimes it’s a noise from the roof. Or a noise from next door. Or outside my door. The paranoia has not gone away.

It’s also probably the things that run through my mind. I don’t fall asleep in the ‘healthy’ way. I don’t practice the sleep hygiene I am suppose to.

Instead, I put on an old episode of a TV show or a movie and let that lull me to sleep. It is effective but it is not necessarily the right thing to do. No SLEEP GUIDE would tell you to that.

Lack of Zzz’s is also probably due to the weird nightmares I have. They range from the break-in to ridiculous things that can happen in a work environment to things that are nonsensical enough the I cannot remember them anymore. Nightmares: manifestation of anxiety.

I know what I am anxious about. And yes, part of tackling that anxiety is preparation and talking about the thing, but I procrastinate on that. And therefore mess up my whole mind. Genius, no?

So yes, sleep hygiene. Gotta start practicing that before this screws me over.

June 1st 2019

I am writing this for posterity.

Approximately 6 weeks ago, I was robbed in my apartment. I have told this story to a few people but it’s easier to give an abridged version of it, you know? I am writing it out here and now because I think it is important that I remember what happened.

My apartment building is attached to a hotel. It’s one big place but has a separate entrance to the apartment side on each floor.

It was my day off, a sudden change in schedule and all I did was laze in my room at home. I believe it was 7.10-ish in the evening, I was in an oversized T-shirt, no trousers, just underwear, no bra because come on, I was not going anywhere, I was at home, I was relaxed. I heard the sound falling coins but thought nothing of it. It was likely my neighbour who dropped something outside my door.

I’m watching youtube videos while lying on my bed when the next thing I knew, there was a guy in my room. Taller than me, bearded, no glasses, wearing a cap, a t-shirt and at that point, I could only remember that his bottoms were made of jeans-material.

The first thing that came to my mind was ‘holy shit am I hallucinating?’

He came at me with a knife, I think it was just a small steak knife, and told me not to scream. So instead of listening, I screamed. I knew my neighbour was home and I screamed her name.

He told me to shut up. He asked for my phone and I gave it to him. Then he started looking around, looking at what else to take perhaps. I asked him if I could get my phone back to take out the SIM card, all the time saying ‘Encik, tolonglah’ while trying not to cry. He gave it back and I tried turning it off, realising that I could get to the EMERGENCY button that way.

I think he saw that. And he grabbed it back from me while shoving the knife at me.

This whole time I was just seated on my bed. I do not know if I prayed at that point. I think I might have. I remember thinking ‘okay, you have no bottoms on. You need to get something to cover yourself. There’s a knife in the kitchen drawer. Is it smarter to get that knife and defend yourself?’

And so I got up. I covered myself with my blanket.

The guy asked for my pincode to get into my phone. I think I gave it to him. or at least the first few numbers. He was punching it in when I ran and screamed my head off.

I was lucky that I made it out the door. I have never run so fast in my life. Blanket gathered around me, no slippers and screaming.

He pushed past me from the floor entrance of the apartment and ran down a side emergency staircase. I ran to the elevators and spotted a person staying in the hotel. I told her to call the police. ‘No English, no English’.

Of course. Why wouldn’t it be that the one person I see is unable to speak a language I could?

I contemplated getting into the lift and telling the security guard when I realised the lifts would take to too long, and that the guy would have made it down by now.

I went back into my apartment, my neighbour was out of her place at that point. I told her I just got robbed. I told her to call the police while I went back in, put on trousers, tried not to freak out and grabbed my car keys.

The wonderful police on the phone just told me to go Police Station A. They did not come to the building at that point. My neighbour did not offer to go with me or drive me. I felt “extremely supported” at that point. I called my mom using my neighbour’s phone. She did not pick up. I called my dad.

‘Please do not freak out but I just got robbed in my apartment’

‘You got what? Locked out of the apartment?’

‘no dad, I got robbed in my apartment. A guy came in, took my phone. I’m going to the police station now but I do not think I can stay here tonight.’

My parents live two hours away.

So I went into the lift, got to the ground floor and told the security guard that I just got robbed. I told him which floor, which unit number and asked if I could get a guard to accompany me to my car because I was f-ing terrified.

When I got to my car, with the accompanying security, I noticed that the passenger seat at the front was pushed forward. Everything in my glove compartment was on the ground. I was confused because I did not leave it that way. Why would I leave it that way?

And then when I was about to exit, I realised that my parking cards was gone. My toll card was gone. Then it hit me. The guy got into my car as well. I was shaking at the idea that his hands have touched everything there.

The best part- I told the guy in charge of the parking area about what happened. He told me I would still have to pay. I had only RM3 in my wallet at that point. He took it regardless.

I’m glad that I knew where the police station was. The officer took my statement and told me I had to go to Police Station B to see the investigating officer (IO).

So I did. Police Station B was at another side of town and was extremely dark. The policeman at the entrance told me I had to walk in to the old building and look for the IO myself.

Yes, this was about 8-ish at night, and the whole building was dark. There were no lights. I guess these people were brave and were carrying guns so it didn’t matter to them but damn it, I was just robbed, I was scared and I had to walk all by myself.

I went to see the IO. He took my statement. And then I had to wait for the photographer and the fingerprinting person to show up, so I waited with him.

When we went back to the apartment, I brought the cops up, I showed them the unit. They asked me why ‘this door’ and ‘that door’ were not locked in the building. I had no answers. They took photos of things. The attempted to fingerprint the phone case but no prints came out. He also stole my laptop which meant that I had to make one additional police report.

The coins-falling sound? It was his coins all over the bathroom floor. The perpetrator’s coins. And I did nothing. I did nothing when that occurred.

Then we went down to the security room and watch the tape.

I watched the jackass wander in through the apartment entrance, and climb up through my bathroom window (it is located at the corridor). I saw my parents come into the building at that point so I went out to see them.

Only then did I allow myself to cry.

I did not stay the night. I went back home ‘home’ with my parents and brother, only to discover the the jackass had transferred money out of my bank account. I made a third police report for that.

That next week was basically me crying for no reason, receiving really unsupportive words from a supervisor when I told her that I needed to take emergency leave for ONE day, having good friends come stay with me for 2 nights, and having my parents come up and stay with me for the rest of the week. I did a photofit, which is a digital recreation of how the person looks like. It was only 60% accurate in my opinion.

Until I had to do a police line-up two weeks later, I barely slept. I woke up at least twice a night. I stopped smiling at strangers. I jumped each time someone spoke to me. I could barely go out. I owned four different pepper sprays because my brother bought them for me.

I could not use lifts by myself. I could not go back into that building by myself.

When we did the police line-up, all I could think of was that scene from BROOKLYN NINE NINE. Believe me, it was not funny. It was not remotely hilarious. It was nerve wrecking. I had to stare at ten different faces but I knew in my gut which one it was.

After that, I could sleep better knowing he was behind bars. I felt a little lighter. I had to identify the items I owned from what the police had gathered. Thankfully they were there, except my hospital ID.

On July 1st, I asked the IO when I could get my stuff back. He said I couldn’t because the guy did not admit guilt, and that he would go to trial. And the best part- he was out on bail. You would think that the cops would have informed me of that important detail but I had to ask to find out. I had to literally ask if the guy was still in jail.

out. on. bail.

Instantly that fear came back and an impending anxiety attack. I know realistically he would not have come after me but the irrational fear remained. He knew my car. What if I bumped into him somewhere? What if he saw my car in a mall or in the hospital region or anywhere and decided to cause damage, or wait for me or.. ? It did not help to spiral.

I do not know when the trial will be. I am guessing I will have to be a witness. I do not look forward to that day. I never want to see him again. I never want to have to think about it.

I was better and then I was back to being not.

Till now, I have an aversion to men with similar facial hair, to men wearing baseball caps. I am paranoid of everything. I sleep with sharp scissors beside my pillow. I go nowhere without pepper spray.

I want to forget about June 1st and the crap that came after that, but I cannot. I cannot allow myself to because it may be relevant for the trial. I cannot let myself forget his face. I cannot let myself forget the fear of being hurt or raped when he violated my privacy. I cannot let myself forget the trauma of not being able to sleep, of not being able to feel comfortable ever again.

My personal opinions on how law enforcement treated me shall remain with me and to those I have spoken to about this. I do not need to shame the police but I will say that I am grateful that they caught the guy.

The only blessing to come from this horrifying moment is that it has made me more cautious. I am more vigilant about locking up after myself, of making sure I have means of protecting myself.

Yes, thank goodness he did not do more that day.

But what he did was enough to violate the peace of mind I had. He entered my home, the place that is suppose to be the safest. He entered my home while I was inside it. That just distresses me in a way that I cannot explain. This is truly one of those times when ‘you don’t get it until you’ve gone through it’.

Nothing in 2019 has gone the way I thought it would. I have been lucky in some aspects but wrecked in others. June 1st was an impetus for certain big decisions in my life and will forever impact future choices.

I do not wish it on anyone.

Chaotic Good

My mantra for a lot of my life was probably this:

Every personality test I ever took, regardless how nonsensical they mostly are have always told me that my problem was that I like to ‘help’ and that can often can be pathological.

I think it is something inculcated in me since childhood- that helping others is the most important thing ever. There is high praise for helping but help must be given from the heart, and not for self gain., Sometimes I wonder if I confuse the two.

Yes, it is truly good to help. That is partly what drew me to medicine: the helping others, the fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves. It’s a different joy and satisfaction when someone gets better.

But yes, there is a pathological need to be ‘useful’ and to be ‘helpful’ to others. I barge into the lives of friends, I ‘push in’ when no one asks me to. When someone has a problem, my first instinct is to ‘okay, let’s break it down, let’s see what we can do’.

Not always a bad thing, granted. But maybe not always the right thing.

I come up with a ‘plan’ and genuinely expect people to ‘follow through’ on the advice I give them, as though I’m the one in charge. Analogous to me attempting to steer another person’s ship while mine is not in the best shape either.

I have to learn to stop doing that. To stop trying to solve everyone’s issues. Who likes the ‘know it all’ busybody who comes in and attempts to fix everything? I am not equipped nor do I truly have the knowledge and ability to do any of it.

We are all allowed to make messes of our own lives, and should be allowed to chance to Felix Fix-It ourselves. Unnecessary pressure from external parties are not always the best in a lot of these situations.

External party of one signing out of the role as Chaotic Friend that Means Well ✌️

the internet made me do it

I own too many things.

I know, that’s such a ‘entitled millennial’ problem. And goodness me, I am.

I look at the amount of skincare products and clothes that I own and I’m actually appalled by how much there is. When my friends came to stay over for a few days after the unfortunate incident of early June, the one big comment I got was ‘wow, you own a lot of stuff’.

I think I have brought it up before but I have this terrible problem of spending too much. It’s ridiculous. If I would break down that behaviour and look up the ‘why’ behind it, I think it could possibly relate back to the fact that I moved a lot as a kid and therefore, had to give up a lot of stuff in each move. So, in a sense, my habit of ‘buying and buying’ was to fill up the space in the room in order to ground me, and to feel as though things are stable.

Or I’m simply too easily manipulated by ‘influencers’ and ‘ads’ on the internet.

The latter seems more likely, no? I basically own a few items from a certain shampoo brand because I saw two videos praising them (but on the plus side, it really did work)

I have a ridiculous amount of skincare things. I don’t know why I think owning all of them would help this face, but goodness, I own a heck of a lot of things. I have TWO of the same night-time moisturisers because I had two separate places, and I didn’t want to bring skincare from one place to another. How ridiculous is that??

Yes, I do have a lot of ‘sample’ items because when you spend a lot, you get a bunch of samples. So, part of it is that. But there are also three different body scrubs, three different cleansers, a bunch of body lotions.. I feel a bit nauseous looking at all of it.

I did a bit of cleaning over the weekend and it alarms me how many things I own. And it’s not just ‘beauty- skincare’ stuff, it’s also books. I have too many books that I have not read, and with time, little interest of reading. I have magazines in a row in my shelves that I have read only once. Would it not have been wiser to buy digital copies instead of physical ones?

I cleared out two bags of clothes that I have donated over the weekend. Two bags. And I still do not have quite enough space to fit the ones that I have left.

I have a total of 7 different striped tops. Yes, that is basically my uniform nowadays and I do like each and every one of them, they all ‘spark joy’ but the fact that I have 7 of what is basically the same top … that’s troubling, right?

I told my mom on Sunday that I am not going to buy anything more for maybe the rest of the year- in relation to skin products, clothes and books. Okay fine, I bought Karamo Brown’s biography today but that’s the last book.

I am problematic.

I still feel like I’m in Form 4

About two weeks ago I got a blast from the past in the form of an old classmate.

He walked into my place of work- I am assuming as a new member of the team and all I could feel was:

Here’s some background regarding this person: He was in the same class as me throughout secondary school. He was what I considered a ‘friend’ and that transitioned into him being one of the ‘other gang’ in the class when I got to Form 4/5. My ‘fondest’ memory of him, and the rest of his group, was when they were talking about my friends and I and I swear I heard them all titter about my weight. More specifically this in relation to my weight:

I went home and cried about it. I cried in the car on the way home and my mother didn’t know why, and I refused to tell her. I can actually locate the exact blog posts where I reference this.

Yes,  approximately 10 years later, this thing still stings me.

and seeing him did not help. No, I did not go up and chat with him, I don’t know if he recognised me because YAY for surgical masks. I never saw him again after that because I was on leave and because of other work related reasons, but yeah, blast from the freaking past.

Body image issues are a thing for every single female on the planet, and to an extent most everyone else too. I am thankfully not at the end of the spectrum where it destroys me on a daily basis. Yes, I do feel inadequate at times, and when I go to a store that does not carry my size, I hate myself.

But with time I have become more accepting and thankful for my body. I am grateful for my two legs, my two hands, the ability to wake up in the morning. So much to be thankful for.

Yet somehow, seeing someone I have not seen in more or less 10 years brought back those feelings of anger, resentment, and mostly hurt., How foolish is that? Especially when I think he does not remember me.

Forgive and forget, no?

Delete delete delete, dear brain. we are better than that.

‘my therapist thinks..’

I am going to admit to something that only three people know, as of now. I have had five therapy sessions. Yes, the type where you sit down and speak to a . . . therapist.

And after these five sessions, I stopped going to therapy.

Ain’t that a journey in itself?

No hate on therapy, not at all. I still think it is a useful process and it did shed some light on a few things. The reason I stopped is to do more with finances, but that’s a whole other ball game, isn’t it?

I started therapy at the beginning of March/ end of February. Why did I go? Because of a multitude of reasons, not just particularly one, though naturally I had to ‘choose one’ when I went for my first session. I think after a while of telling everyone to go for therapy, I decided to walk the talk.

My first therapist (oh hoho, yes I have had two) was a nice lady named L. I did not cry during the ‘getting to know you’ session. I had four sessions with her total. Then she moved away to a different centre.

My second therapist was a guy named N. He made me cry within that first and only session because frankly I was going through some really crappy times that made me feel remarkably broken and crap. But I only had one with him and have not gone back since. That was almost two months ago.

So, why did I stop?

I had to swap therapists because the first left. THAT didn’t help. no, the new guy was nice and pleasant but you know, you build rapport, you build trust and that was taken away. True, I didn’t give the new guy much of a fighting chance, did I?

Partly because I had to commute two hours one way to get to the place and the centre was only open on Thursdays to Saturdays, which is difficult when you have my schedule.

Were these sessions expensive? No, not really. I could ‘afford’ them up to the point of me getting robbed in my own apartment at the beginning of June. I had money stolen from my bank account, and I needed money to restore items that were taken from me. I needed money to move apartments. So frankly speaking, I am quite poor and thus, cannot afford to go for further sessions. I have only told my brother and two other people that I have gone for therapy. I did not tell my parents, because I wanted to take my own time in divulging this information.

But hey, getting robbed also robbed me of the opportunity of that.

Yes, maybe if I spoke to the centre, I could possibly get cheaper sessions but the other thing that is holding me back is the fact that I do not think I need therapy at this point. Not when I am functional in daily life, not when finances are an issue. If I could pay for it without worrying about the other costs I have to deal with in my daily life, yes, I would continue these sessions.

But I have more pressing bills to pay, and I cannot impose on my family to pay for mental health- healthcare while it isn’t pressing.

Again, I am not saying I am not in need of therapy- it is clearly established on this blog and in other aspects of my life that I do require help in that area. But I am holding back on that for now. I can still cope.

What did I learn from therapy?

Frankly, nothing that I did not already know. We went through my daily routines, we went through why I felt tired all the time, we went through how dysfunctional my thought processes were. I did not have a ‘AHA’ moment so to speak. My sessions further validated what I already knew to be through. It is unfortunate that I had to stop right before we could get into breaking things down further and before we could start with coping mechanisms.

Well, I was suggested one coping mechanism- writing.

The advice was to write in a diary, or write a letter to a friend, or just write wherever. And yes, it was almost two months ago when this advice was given but heck, a lot had happened in these almost two months so it’s only ‘now’ that I am able to write. And yes, I have chosen the wonderful form of blogging because it’s something that has been a strange constant for almost 15 years of my life.

Conclusion; I gave it a shot, I see its benefits, I will look into it in the future once finances are not an issue. For now, maybe it is something I can put on the back burner while bigger things take the forefront.

We all need therapy because we’re all broken on the inside- everyone with different cracks. I’m not saying ‘no’ to it, I’m just saying ‘not right now’.

5.21

It is 5.21AM

I am riddled with this anxiety that just ebbs beneath the surface. I am on call in the surgical ward- it has been a relatively steady night but I have nothing but adrenaline coursing through my veins. Anxiety is a horrible thing to live with.

Sometimes I think I should getting medication- perhaps a beta blocker to slow down my pulse, to avoid that fluttery feeling within my chest, as though I swallowed a butterfly but it keeps beating its feather-light wings, tickling my pericardium.

I take deep slow breaths. 4 seconds in, 6 seconds out.

The beating still persists.

Yes, it has been close to a year since my last visit to this page. I have had multiple attempts of trying to tell my story, I have many drafts sitting in the Notes app, words that have inadvertently tumbled out of my being. But none of these words have seemed appropriate- I wonder if sharing would break some sort of patient-doctor confidentiality. Or would leave a bad impression in your mind about the state of healthcare in this country

And that in itself is saying too much without having said too much at all.

But me, yes, how am I?

I am .. alright? Yes but not. No but yes.

There are persistent thoughts of darkness that swirl through my mind. I “neg” my own self. I doubt myself on a regular basis. I let the darkness pull be back to bed despite my many alarms. I let the darkness prevent me from starting my day with a sense of calm. I have not had breakfast on a working day for the past 7 months.

Physician heal thyself!

Today is another day of change for me. I am moving out of a place I am not “welcomed” at. No, no, that is too harsh but it does feel that way.

A lot of the reasons to do with this move are associated with the feeling of abandonment. I feel like my lifeline in this state has been cut off and I am set adrift in the ocean, and you all know that I have thalassophobia.

“Being a grown up is a full time job that no one pays you for and I still feel like I’m about to get fired..”

All I can say for now is this-

No, I am not okay. No, I am not “not” okay.

I am not bad. Nor am I good.

“Therefore I have set my face like flint..”

4 seconds in, 6 seconds out

Let’s try again

In which anxieties take a nasty turn

otherwise known as, I hope the usage of Zooey Deschanel’s face makes this less serious than it is

I am an extremist.

That word never has a good connotation. Be it religious or political extremism, it is hardly ever a good thing. If you’re a ‘positive extremist’ you are given a different title: a philanthropist, a humanitarian. The word ‘extremist’ drags the baggage of negativity along with it.

While my extremism will not put me on the cover of a newspaper (or rather make me a Twitter Trending Topic), it always leaves me feeling awful. My extremism is in relation to my emotions. I wish I could keep a lid on things but much like a filled kettle placed over a heat source for a long time, things bubble over and I scream.

And that can be literal screaming or a metaphorical one.

I have screamed at someone because of how angry I got- resentment had built up over a period of time and the infamous straw that broke the camel’s back whacked mine, but instead of keeling over, I shouted and swore like I have never done before.

Is that good thing? No. Not at all.

Metaphorical screaming, in the sense of things bubbling over due to emotional unrest would be a day like today when body issues just smacked me on the head. I know, this is a popular tune you’ve heard year in and year out, never fading from the charts. A ‘current issue’ that has yet to be resolved despite multiple celebrities speaking up about ‘body acceptance’. While Ashley Graham’s confidence in the face of all her ‘haters’ is an inspiration, it doesn’t dim the hater that is within yourself.

I judge myself by the number I see on the scale. I judge myself for not doing the work it takes to get to a number I’m happy with. And I don’t know if it is truly wrong to think that way. As someone who has spent five years dedicating her life to being part of the medical field, I know for a fact that I am unhealthy, that the ratio of my hips to my waist means that I am more likely to die of a heart attack or have cardiovascular complications in the future.

So when events in the past 24 hours made me look at myself again and feel ridiculously emotional, I wanted to revert to an old habit, another extreme. But I’m better at not doing that, so I didn’t. Instead I threw myself into cleaning because that’s the one positive I could come up with.

It is difficult when you look at yourself and want to change so much. I know part of it a mental component, that satisfaction with what you see reflected back at you is something everyone struggles with, but there are also facts, irrefutable facts that make me cringe.

Being a houseman/intern will be challenging two years. I would need to figure out how balance the physical, the emotional and the external adversities that will be coming my way.

While I understand that there are things outside my circle of control, there are also things I can get a grip on. I just hope I can.

I was going to make a video but I no longer have time

It has been a month since I last posted anything and significant things have happened-
1. I had my job interview

2. I graduated officially-ceremony and everything

3. My mom fractured her shoulder in a freak accident at home

4. I leave home in 8 days because I have my job posting

So the third thing is the biggest one of all really. It’s been approximately 5 weeks since it happened and it’s been an adjustment for all.
I thought I’d go through the things I’ve learned in during this time in a video but I don’t have the time to sit down and make anything because of the fourth thing. Everything is a rush and a haze because I am juggling work (I am doing my mom’s job because she can’t use her dominant arm) and everything else to get ready.

It’s been a panic for me for a good while now.

So here’s a list instead of an amateur video-

1. Do not be unappreciative of the ability to be independent with your mobility. The frustration of not being able to use a major joint of your limbs especially for someone so previously self-sufficient can often feel overwhelming

2. Patience is a virtue- a big big big virtue.

“The ability to hold your tongue is a gift. A moment of patience in a moment of anger prevents a thousand moments of regret.” -Ali Ibn Abu Talib

3. While I have a huge appreciation for the design of fondant cakes, it does not taste good. No matter how gorgeous the cake.

4. Family is everything and family are taxing. I love my family more than anything else and they are my number priority but family can exhaust you physically and emotionally. But they’re still your family.

5. Taking time to truly appreciate the big moments in life is important- spend those times with those who matter most and capture them.

6. Always be kind. Choose kindness above all else. Everyone has different levels of damage and being kind helps you live with yourself.

7. I have good friends. I really do.

8. When you ask for a sign from God (or the Universe if that’s what you believe in) He can deliver majorly even if you doubt.

9. Multitasking is a difficult skill- a to do list is highly beneficial in situations like this.

10. You have less time to feel sad when you are preoccupied. Therefore, get more occupied.

Can you believe we are closer to the middle of the year than we are to the beginning of it? Have a good one guys. ♥️