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crash course.

It’s been a crazy few days for me. Just got back from Vancouver and I still haven’t stopped moving. I’ve been moving too fast to stop, it feels like.

You gotta get your center back. You gotta get your center back.

I’ve been away for more than a month and I’m glad to be home. I have a lot of things to organize and a pile of letters to go through but I feel an overall sense of ease. I feel comfort amongst my things and in seeing the people I’ve missed so much. Also, my plants are alive and thriving better than ever!

If there is some overarching theme to this last trip, it’s that those that you won’t expect will be there to take care of you and that those that you do can drastically let you down.

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me, mom and dad.

I messed up today. Had a cup of green tea and now I’m paying the price. Half impulse and the other half was because I felt like I needed to preoccupy myself over dinner with my parents. I took a sip, enjoyed it, and I guess I just lost myself in it.

It was the first time ever having a meal together like that. Just me, my mom and my dad. Not sure what I was expecting when I agreed to go out but it was a very awkward engagement. We were in a Japanese restaurant that had just opened up that my dad wanted to try. They were both sitting across from me, my dad on the left and my mom on the right. My dad, a mess as usual; his hair was unkempt and he could have fastened up another button on his shirt. My mom looked overdressed next to him, wearing a red paisley dress, fitted and sleeveless, which she paired with a white belt. Her makeup was done meticulously as always. She took a long time getting ready for such a casual thing. She kind of made me feel embarrassed that I didn’t put on makeup on or wear anything nice but taking close to two hours in the washroom… she didn’t give me much time either.

I’m sitting in front them, watching them talk to each other, not expecting them to talk to me. It’s the same thing ever since I was a kid. I don’t have conversations with my parents. It just never happened growing up. My dad worked the night shifts so we’d barely even see him. My mom was a homemaker and she would would call us for dinner, bring us to the bus stop, tell us when to sleep but she’d never talked to us. We grew up like that. We had parents that raised us but didn’t get to know us. It had a huge impact on us siblings and our relationship to each other. To this day, we’re like housemates. We come in and out, barely acknowledging each other when we cross paths. It’s been so long that it seems normal to keep things this way but now that we know what normal flourishing relationships should be like, deep down we know it’s a weird states of things. It’s hard to break the mold when it’s all that it’s been.

I tried to start something. I told my mom about how I spent time with someone in the States who was half Singaporean. I thought she’d be more excited or curious but beyond simple amusement she didn’t say anything more. I quickly gave up and just focused on my tea. It was a green tea and I was convincing myself that maybe it would help me with my jet lag (yeah right). My parents continued talking to each other so I tuned them out and fiddled on phone for a while. After a bit, I looked up, made eye contact with my mom and she started talking to me about the World Cup. She told me that France had won. I was shocked. Most of everything that my mom has ever said to me had to do with something with her life or my life and nothing outside of that. I couldn’t believe that she was chit-chatting with me. It was so foreign and so astounding. I asked her how she knew this and I assumed that she must of heard it from coworkers but she told me she got up early to watch the match. I asked her why and she told me that it was the finals, implying that that alone made it very important. I wanted to keep her talking. I asked her who France lost to and after confirming with my dad, she told me it was Croatia.

It’s so hard for me to convey how such a simple exchange of words blew me away. My relationship with both parents is a weird one and not something many would understand. The moment was extremely short (it was the only form of chitchat that night or possibly the year) and the information itself not profound but that very interaction solidified a thought that first arose in May (write about it next time): there is a lot to learn about my mom. I barely know who she is and there are a lot of unexpected sides to her. She’s been very willing to take steps outside this weird relationship I’ve had with her my entire life which has only felt supervisory. I see things improving between us and it makes me very happy.

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do no wrong

My father can never admit that he is wrong nor can he apologize. And I can’t help but hate him.

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We had an argument this morning. I had got up early to pack for work and he was going to give me a ride.

Him: “We need to go!”

Me: “You said we were leaving at 7. (It was 6:30)”

Him: “I am going to be late!”

Me: “Then why did you tell me 7? You should have told me 6:30.”

Him: “NO! YOU HAVE TO THINK OF ME.”

I’ve learned that such an argument was not one that I could win. His mode of thinking seems to be stuck somewhere in a place of primitive selfishness. I just grabbed what I could and got in the back of the car. As he drove, we sat in silence. I was extremely conflicted. I always avoided arguing if I could but I knew that in being rushed out, I had left some essential things at home so I was stewing in anger. I couldn’t sit quietly in the back of the car like that. To be silent was to concede. To concede was to allow him to think that he could do this to me again.

Me:  “Next time you want me to leave at 6:30, you say 6:30. Not 7.”

Him: “I said before 7.”

Me: “No, you said 7. I asked you if we would be arriving at 7 or leaving at 7. You said leaving.”

He paused too long before responding. He had given away that he knew he was wrong. We had discussed this less than seven hours ago. But like always, he started to divert the blame. He told me that I should have woken up earlier to pack and that I should have told him much earlier in the week that I needed a ride. It was my fault. I suffer at my own hands.

I just told him as I had always seen it.

Me: “You’re never wrong. It’s always my fault. You can’t admit you’re wrong.”

His response was that I was disrespecting him. It was his default every time I pointed out this critical flaw. He started to list to me all my supposed failings, anything to move the focus off his own. I don’t know how to appreciate my father. I don’t speak to him nicely. That I don’t deserve to be driven at all. I didn’t acknowledge any of these claims. I just let him know one more time before I shut up for the rest of the ride:

“You can never admit you’re wrong.”

For my parents, having children was a pragmatic decision. Who is going to take care of you when you’re old and crippled? How will you reap the pride from achievements of kin unborn? Forget about anything else. Whether or not they were conscious of their approach, that’s how they treated us and we took the toll.

I was socially inept and unaware of myself for a long period of my life. I completely understand why I was bullied and why I didn’t have friends until my early twenties. It took me a long time to learn simple things like understanding social cues, how to speak to people and how to carry myself. I blame it on the way in which I was brought up and ultimately on my parents. I’m sure that a lot of people can relate with this: all the interactions that my parents had with me were all for maintenance. Eat this. Stop that. Why aren’t you the best in class? They didn’t speak to me outside of teaching me, berating me, and telling me what to do. In other words, we didn’t have conversations. My parents had no interest in knowing who I was as a person. They didn’t know what my interests were or what my days were like and I grew up thinking it was normal, not ever talking to people about those kind of things. My siblings, even. I spent a lot of my childhood around my brother. We had to share a lot of things together like the TV, the Playstation, the bunk. But we never discussed anything because, like conversing with our parents, that very notion was unknown to us, or just me at least.

To this day, I have never had a conversation with my dad. But to be honest, I don’t have any interest in having one. His vacant and listless life requires no discussion but what more is that I do not like him as a father or as a person. We are persistently reminded by proverbs like “blood is thicker than water”, that family relationships are more important than friendships and that familial love is unconditional love. But why? And is this right?

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Wonder.

Went to Wonderland yesterday and holy hell, I must be getting old or something because those rides took a toll on my body. Every time I was on a rollercoaster, I was in so much pain getting knocked around in my seat. At least I didn’t feel nauseous. I took a couple of Dramamine just before going on any rides. It didn’t stop me from getting dizzy on rides that spun in fast circles so I had to keep my eyes closed for SkyHawk… actually, most of the rides left me feeling dizzy and I’m sure with fewer brain cells. @__@ I used to really like wooden coasters but now I think they’re just too rickety and bumpy for me. Sledgehammer’s still my fav.

Pretty happy the Chippery was still around. They had a new option to get chips smothered in nacho cheese but I opted for the healthier option of a simple bag of good ol’ salt and vinegar. Also shared a couple of BeaverTails to keep me going when my energy was down.

I’m kind of an unemotional robot sometimes and when I’m on a rollercoaster I’m okay with just sitting there and taking it all in. I don’t really understand the thrill of screaming or waving my arms around while on a ride. I guess it’s sort of an escape for some people.

I need an escape… flying out the day after tomorrow but have been slacking and I’m not prepared…

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Alien Birthing Tank

Float tanks! I had to write this up as soon as I got home considering the number of requests on this one. I had a friend treat me to a little Friday R&R today and part of it was going to Float Toronto, a float centre. He first proposed the idea of trying out float tanks earlier in the week. I’ve seen them in passing and since I’ve always been super curious about them, I decided to give it a try.

What Float Toronto and other similar float centres offer are flotation therapy and sensory deprivation. They put you in a tank filled water with a crap-ton of epsom salts. I mean 850 pounds crap-ton. The sheer amount of salt makes it denser than regular water, making your body float to the surface without having to fight against gravity. The tank is insulated from sound and constructed for you to be in complete darkness. The idea behind it is to create dark but ethereal environment, something you can’t find in the outside world. People claim that there are a lot of emotional, mental and even physical benefits. According to Float Toronto’s website: “People are drawn to floating to find relief from physical discomfort and stress, encourage personal development, or simply for some peace and tranquility. Inevitably, most people end up harnessing some combination of the many reported benefits. The most common testimonials are profound peace and relaxation, deep concentration and heightened creativity.” Forthright, no frills.

So we get in the shop and do the typical thing — sign a waiver and patiently wait for our time to come. The environment was like a spa; you take off your shoes, the lighting was dimmed with gentle relaxation music, infinite hot peppermint tea, and there’s a big sign right when you walk in asking you to turn off your ringer and to speak at a low volume. Kind of what you’d expect going in for a massage but with a much more hippie vibe. There were a couple of books on the table and coloured markers, each encouraging to let your creativity flow. If you ever find a rabbit and a giraffe in there, those guys are mine.

So our turn is up and the orientation is about a minute long. It’s pretty straight forward — You have ten minutes to shower before and after; don’t get the water in your eyes because it will burn them; don’t drink the water because it will be bitter; any scratches and scars will burn too so you can use vaseline provided, etc. There were also a few orientation tricks and operational instructions.

So we got sent off to our own individual rooms. I was a little nervous when I first saw it. Something about it just seems all to unnatural and little too eerie. You get into a small washroom-sized room and there’s a giant tank filled with a few feet of water and a dim purple glow. The first thing that came to my mind was “alien birthing tank”, kind of like one that you would expect to see in a sci-fi film.

Anyways, I did as I was instructed; I showered and towel-dried before going in. They provide pre- and post two-in-one float shampoo/soap and conditioner too. Stepping into the tank, the water was like a neutral body-temperature and it felt a little more viscous that regular water. It was subtle but nice and definitely a different feeling than soaking in a bath at home. I float in regular water so orienting myself in this crap-ton salt water didn’t come with any difficultly. It took me a few seconds to relax my body, let my ears go under and let my entire body float. There was a switch to turn off the purple lighting off for the full sensory deprivation experience and there was also a switch for soft music. I tried all the combination of the two and I was most comfortable with the light off and the music to be on.

While I was in there, I tried tuning out, I tried thinking about the next steps of my day or I just spent time trying to concentrate on the music. The music plays through the water and it’s really hard to hear unless you focus on it. To be honest, I didn’t really know what I was supposed to think about once I was in there but I let my mind drift. I didn’t come up with any revelations or sparks of creativity but it was a nice peaceful moment to stop and reflect on my day and my life in general, I guess.

Did it help me destress? I want to say yes but there were a few things that stressed me out while I was in there. I must have been doing something wrong because my body kept floating all over and bumping from edge to edge. First my head, and then my foot and then my arm… I never really stayed in one spot very well. Also, when I decided to sit up for a bit, some water came down on my face and into my eye. GG. I know the idea was to destress but with my body bumping into walls and my burning right eye, it was pretty hard for me to shut my mind off. Also, it was really difficult for me to tell when the session was coming to an end. Apparently they play music to cue you but I was already listening to the tank music so I was kind of worried about missing the cue. In fact, I ended up accidentally leaving the tank too early because the ventilation system came on and I thought I had outstayed my welcome so I’m there soaping myself as fast as I can with my post-float two-in-one soap. Stress! Also I have dry skin and the salt water dries it out even more. Stress! Crap, my makeup came off. Stress! I’m writing this blog post while shaking my head around because there’s still water in my ear. STRESS!!! If you’ve been considering to give this a try, take my words with a grain of salt… as if there isn’t enough already… (hah!); I get stressed much easier than the average person and maybe I’m still salty (HAH!) about the small issues I had.

So the most common question I got is “What does it feel like?” To me, it was simply floating in water in giant tub, in the dark. I definitely felt floatier, especially when I moved my arms and legs around. While I thought it was nice, it wasn’t spectacular. It isn’t something I’d do again. I’m sure many other people gain a lot from this experience but for me, it was just a nice to experience because it was something I haven’t done before. But to be frank, I’d rather have a nice spa day or a night with a Lush bath bomb. I think I rather feel pain from a deep tissue massage than have my senses deprived and feel less.

I want to make clear that anything I had to say is simply a reflection of my very narrow view. And to fully understand my view of things, you have to have a good understanding of the type of person I am. I’m not a type of person to slow down. I am constantly thinking about the next steps I have to take while I’m preoccupied with something already. I thrive on direction and when I’m forced to sit still, I have a pretty awful time. I had a pretty boring time in Bali because I didn’t know how to lay around and just do nothing. My idea of relaxation is going for an hour long run by the riverside. I am clumsy, haphazard and not a graceful person. I hate yoga. That’s a big one. I think there is a very close likeness between doing yoga and being in a float tank. Both are meant to be meditative, a moment to stop and reflect on your life and intend for you relax. For my experience with yoga, there’s just something about someone telling me to do things slowly, how to breathe and to relax that just stresses me out. When a yoga instructor says “relax” for the twentieth time in a class I have “I am fucking relaxed!!$%^&*” running through my head. But because this float therapy session let me have a room to have some time to myself, I actually preferred it much more than yoga. Yes, it was relaxing. Yes, it allowed me to take a few moment to tune out but as soon as I stepped out the door, it was back to reality for me. The sun’s glaring in my face and I’m back to returning a missed phone call, responding to e-mails and on my way to barre class.

Got a beautiful view of Queen W. during barre!

Also got to try an ube charcoal cone today from iHalo Krunch. Ube flavour tasted great but not worth having black teeth, black lips and an awful-looking smile.

Hope that was insightful enough! Have a good night, everyone. I’ll be spending a while trying to get this water out of my ear.