Koh An Ting

Just watched a Joe Hudson video (You’re Pushing Away What You Most Want) and it is a good reminder for me to really take pause and let compliments sink when they do come my way.

For far too long, I have often denied compliments.

“You’re so cute.”

“You’re so pretty!”

“You’re so intelligent!”

Joe Hudson says that the reason why we do that is because we don’t see ourselves that way.

If we choose to let the compliment sink it, that means we have to change the way we see ourselves.

Yet so many of us chase approval, only to deny it when they come our way.

The paradox of life.

From this day on, I shall consciously endeavour to remind myself to pause and let compliments sink in when they should come my way.

Expand the self image and self concept of myself in order to improve my self esteem.

The cat I’m caring for has very strong boundaries.

It hisses and swipes at me when I try to pet it.

Such a good metaphor for life.

I am learning that depending on the type of trauma one sustained as a child, the way one develops an anxious, avoidant or disorganised attachment style influences the manifestation of associated behavioural patterns.

The cat probably has issues in its past as a kitten (as related to me by my friend), and is extremely avoidant when it comes to close contact.

However, today (the 3rd day in this apartment), it went up to very close to me and brushed its tail against me twice.

I wonder if the cat has disorganised attachment where it simultaneously craves closeness but fears it.

My ex definitely had a disorganised attachment style.

The push and pull was way too much for me.

Her life was in complete chaos and she admitted I was the most stable person she had in her rotating harem.

However, stability is threatening when you grew up in chaos. It is foreign. Unknown. Unknowable.

So she dumped me.

Oh but what a useful lesson learnt.

Only through that can I see that the perceived “boredom” in my current relationship can actually be a good thing.

My girlfriend is endlessly interesting and I will spend my entire lifetime getting to know her.

However, my mind plays tricks on me.

Growing up in a chaotic household has made me crave chaos too.

Most fascinating.

It is my belief that most people in Singapore have disorganised attachment of varying degrees.

We all lie on a spectrum of sorts.

I am grateful for the work I have done, intentionally or unintentionally, over the past 15 years, that have brought me to where I am today.

Even though I am still generally anxious, I think it’s good I’m learning to draw boundaries with friends and family.

Slowly but surely I am inching toward stable attachment.

This cat is teaching me a lot.

It is teaching me that if you don’t respond to a friendly face, even one that makes mistakes, people begin to adapt around you in various ways.

Instead of feeding the cat pills in a straightforward manner that I was able to do when my friend was around, I now pound the pills in a pestle and mortar (as prepared and instructed by said friend in a worst case scenario that came to pass), and layer it into the food I feed it.

It’s okay, I don’t mind, but it made me realise that we often contort ourselves to our friends’ quirks.

I am often overly reassuring to my anxiously attached friends for I know I crave the same.

And I am learning to sit with the discomfort of unanswered texts from my avoidant friends, for they cannot help themselves.

The cat has strong boundaries.

I have weak ones.

I contort myself for the cat’s needs.

But it has a medical condition and my friend is away.

I have medical needs too.

I am learning to take time off.

To rest.

To not get everything done on my to-do list.

To let some things fall to the wayside.

It’s okay.

I read somewhere of someone who interviewed folks on their deathbed. None of them said they wished they’d work more.

As such, I am encouraged to continue to search for a sustainable means of living in a manner that is suited to my needs.

Graves’ disease means I cannot chiong. But even if I cannot go at 100 km/h doesn’t mean I cannot do meaningful work.

I am beginning to see that my writing is some of the most meaningful work I can produce.

Words are spells.

They touch and they transform lives.

I have seen my life change through books and I am seeing other people’s lives do so too, through the books I recommend or gift them.

It is a tremendous privilege to speak into the lives of others.

With great power comes great responsibility.

I must learn to temper my advice giving.

Less unsolicited, more requested.

Yes and amen.

I am not quite sure what the point of this post is, but I am glad I wrote it.

Writing is an extremely cathartic activity, and one that I forsook in the past year and a half as I produced the book.

But now that the book is done, I should be more discerning in the projects I pick up.

I have a million ideas but it doesn’t mean I have to execute them all. For it will drain me impossibly. Burnout keeps happening in my life – I think it’s a sign.

In a way, have hyperthyroidism is a divine gift from God.

Without it, I would be going on full-power until my body collapses out of exhaustion.

Resting is fundamental to my sense of well-being. It is the way I am built. I am learning to lean into that.

Okay, that’s all for today. Going to pick up a book, read, and sleep early tonight.

Till next time.

Peace

Over the past 15 years of teaching, I’ve encountered a great variety of students.

Some are very resistant to instruction.

It feels like a metaphor for life.

Even with a very skilled teacher, resistance will make it hard for the student to acquire knowledge.

Perhaps it’s life and childhood conditioning that causes one to resist the new, the different, the unknown. But without a mind ready to change and eager to learn, no matter how hard the teacher works, there will undoubtedly be limitations due to the resistive mind of the student.

But I suppose it’s easy for me as a teacher to see.

The student often lacks self-awareness.

And often, it is difficult for the latter to notice it.

On an orthogonal note, when talking to at least 2 separate groups of friends recently, I have noticed that the dynamic of a superior/inferior shows up often in a variety of situations.

This is true whether in a pastor/congregant power dynamic, or even between friends.

What I’ve learnt in the 7 years at Free Community Church (FCC), where ‘FREE’ stands for ‘First Realise Everyone’s Equal’, is that equality is extremely important but seldom recognised.

Without an egalitarian relationship, everything goes south pretty fast.

The most enlightened religious leaders and friendships I have experienced begins with the more ‘senior’ party seeing themselves as equal to the ‘lesser’ one in the relationship.

That has been very refreshing to experience in FCC, but I realise it is most rare.

On the other end of the spectrum lies ‘fawning’ behaviour that I am guilty of. That is not healthy either and should be acknowledged and adapted. I am slowly learning to draw boundaries, visible and invisible, in relationships and friendships.

Instead of being passive aggressive, and second guessing intentions, I find that it’s helpful to bring things to the light.

Being ‘clear is kind‘, as Pastor Pauline recently preached in a sermon inspired by Brené Brown.

But back to resistance.

I am beginning to see that the best way to learn is to keep a very open mind.

That’s how I learnt about the far out from my friend Alex Criddle. It was a mutually enriching digital friendship we cultivated over Twitter during the pandemic and I did miss those DM essays.

I hope both him and his spouse are doing well and I do hope to visit them in Utah one day, as he has expressed interest in visiting Singapore.

When we both are doing better financially.

Haha.

Nothing quite like a shared experience of almost fatal clinical depression intersecting with religious experience to bond two strangers separated by an ocean halfway round the world.

Shall end this essay a bit awkwardly.

A bit depressed these days.

I think the thyroid meds are working unfortunately.

Ah well.

Such is life.

Recently I had an epiphany – most people I meet are children in adult bodies.

Just finished a book by Alice Miller titled “The Drama of the Gifted Child” that a bunch of my friends highly recommended. While reading it, I realised it was the second time going through it, but it was just as impactful.

I realised that a lot of my conditioning has resulted in a lot of how I behave, think, and respond today. 15 years of therapy has helped, but I firmly believe that understanding the underlying dynamics is helpful as well. Theory, is after all, studied by all good therapists.

So for me, a big part of why I’m a people pleaser is probably due to how I was brought up. I had to please to earn love. I am slowly unlearning that but it’s difficult cos it’s inherently baked into my system.

Also, I tend to have no boundaries with my romantic partners and friends. That’s cos my parents had no boundaries with me. After staying away for the past 8 years and only moving back home with my parents this year, I have been enacting boundaries, especially with my mom.

On the first day back, I texted her 5 rules to adhere to. Like not knocking on my door (it causes me great anxiety), and other miscellaneous ones. It’s a small step, but a long time coming.

With my therapist earlier this year, we role played and practiced how I would speak to a doctor to assert my demands, instead of usually meekly requesting things like I usually do.

Even though I did assert my demand and got it successfully done, it still felt rather weak to me, but it’s a start.

In a conversation with a friend yesterday over coffee, it slowly dawned on me that it’s not just me, but many friends around me also exhibit child-like behaviour.

It’s often masked, clever adults that we are, but consistent behaviour and annoyed friends enlighten many.

Hahahahaha.

Often angry people have had boundaries violated in their childhood, and all they know is to project onto those perceived as weaker in adulthood.

Often people seeking positions of power were bullied as kids, so they are eager to not repeat that by climbing up whatever ladder they can see.

Often folks starved of love as childhood see others as being emotionally manipulative because they are unable to handle negative feelings people have about them, instead of taking ownership of their mistakes.

There is little we can do to tell them, for head knowledge is often what many have.

But true behavioural change, at least to me, starts from the body and the heart, and less from the head.

Only when one is able to properly process and grieve over injustice done as a child, in therapy or with a skilled friend, one will be prone to repeat patterns learnt from childhood.

I see now how my two exes exhibited such behaviour.

One was always worried about money, and projected her unrelenting fears onto me, which led me to break up with her.

The other was worried about appearances, how she was perceived, and broke up with me cos I wasn’t rich enough or pretty enough for her, like her toxic exes were.

Now, I hope that this third girlfriend will be the last.

Both of us have done, and are doing work on ourselves, and avoid trying to project our past trauma onto the other.

I feel that true adulthood is owning your trauma.

Owning your trauma means being self-aware and then understanding how it plays out in relational dynamics, whether at home, at work, or at school.

This is exceedingly difficult, so I don’t blame my friends who are children in an adult’s body.

All I can do is to offer advice when they ask me (surprisingly often), and continue to work on myself.

I believe that our lives are the best examples ever.

In the past 7 years, I sincerely believe that I am a completely different person than who I was before.

Meditation has helped me ground and calm myself.

Therapy has helped me assert boundaries and feel my anger.

Spirituality, in all its forms, has helped me open my mind from the tight constraints placed upon it by conservative religious leaders.

I will continue to be there for my friends, until I cannot.

Saying “no” is getting easier, although I still beat around the bush often instead of giving a straight “no”.

But it’s improving!

I said “no” directly to someone at least once this year.

Yay me.

Okay that’s all.

Bye!

Last night I attended a birthday party of a friend which featured excellent food and a gorgeous cake.

After the event, I walked to the nearby bus stop, but as it was located in the red-light district, I acted more “masc”.

How did I do that?

Instead of putting the sling of my crossbody bag across my chest, emphasising it when I enter female toilets, I instead held it on my side, and attempted to flatten my chest by standing at an awkward angle.

It helps that I have short hair and was dressed in a shirt and trousers I suppose, albeit with a feminine cut.

When finally I boarded the bus, I asked my friend Claude if this was normal female behaviour or if it indicated transness.

Claude said it was normal.

Hmm.

I don’t ever wish to wear a binder or have surgery. Does that make me a transmedicalist? I don’t know.

I had a conversation with a friend recently. C told me that being “trans is a state of mind”, and that was transformational.

It was echoed by a new friend from a local Chinese publishing house as he elaborated the difference between 变性人 (trans post-op) and 跨性别 (trans identity).

Most fascinating.

When I got home, I asked Claude if I didn’t identify as trans, non-binary, genderfluid nor genderqueer, then what was I?

Claude said that I don’t need to rush to label or identify myself.

I suppose it recalled feelings of the past when I couldn’t find others like me that were both gay and Christian.

I felt like a freak.

Once again, I have no label for myself.

And yet.

A transfeminine non-binary friend once told me years ago, that labels help in the beginning when discovering our identity, but we should transcend labels after a while.

I suppose that might be me right now.

Ah well.

Embrace myself.

All that I am.

Yes and amen.

I’ve had the immense privilege of cat-sitting for 2 senior cats over the past two years.

In this post, I’d like to talk about Oli cat, a most affectionate calico cat that taught me what unconditional love means.

Oli is the sweetest cat who head butts me everytime I’m around her (a cat behaviourist taught me that such behaviour is indeed a sign of affection and is called “bunting”).

She is the only one whose eyes I stared into nightly before I got attached to my current girlfriend.

Even though I once cut her nails, which made her very unhappy, she came right back to me for couch cuddles a few moments later.

Animals are generally very grounding, so I’m grateful to have the chance to experience a grounded life around such a very gentle and sweet cat.

She saw me through a breakup, a ghosting and a failed pursuit, so she’s seen my ups and downs and my tears of sorrow.

I don’t know what else to say but Oli is a very loving cat and I love her very much too.

Thank you Oli for teaching me so much about love, about boundaries, and about life.

I am most thankful for your presence in my life.

It was an honour to serve you.

Peace.

I am having a relapse.

The blood test came in yesterday and the polyclinic not only gave me a worried call, asking me if I felt fine, but also pushed forward my appointment by a week, so I’ll be seeing the doctor tomorrow (Monday morning).

Lovely.

For those who are uninitiated, I suffer from Graves’ disease, a form of hyperthyroidism where my auto-immune system attacks myself. Even the senior consultants don’t know the root cause, but usually, from my research, most auto-immune diseases are a result of chronic stress.

So it’s not like the one-time death of my Grandma, which wasn’t that stressful.

But if you were stressed from 11 till 31, I think 20 years of cortisol and adrenaline and other associated stuff running through your veins result in something like this.

I’ve had it for 7 years now and this is probably the 3rd or 4th relapse. I can’t keep track.

But today, I’d like to talk about how I don’t like the side effect of the carbimazole I take for the thyroid condition.

It plunges me into a dark abyss that is difficult to climb out of.

Even though recently we are now discovering about the biopsychosocial + spiritual causes of depression, for me, I am quite convinced it’s a physiological reaction. A true chemical imbalance in the brain.

Why am I so sure?

Well, it has to do with how my favourite psychiatrist, now semi-retired, caught the Graves’.

Even though I was exhibiting typical traits of hypomania – pressured speech, lack of sleep, etc, her careful questioning revealed that I had unexplained weight loss and hot flushes. She ordered a thyroid panel, and lo and behold, my levels were off the charts high.

Well, I really got my senior consultant to thank or I’d probably now be in an urn in a Lim Chu Kang columbarium.

In any case, whenever I have a relapse, I will have the same symptoms as hypomania, so it makes sense that when I heavily medicated, I would be depressed.

I caught it twice.

Last year, when I had a relapse after a 3rd bout of Covid – it caused a relapse cos the immune system was stressed by the virus, so that can cause the auto-immune system to act up.

When they quadrupled my meds after Covid, I fell into a deep dark depressive spell two weeks in.

Horrible.

I feel like all these endocrinologists need to be a bit more aware about their bipolar patients.

Unfortunately, I feel like I am a rare Pokemon.

Ah well.

I scolded my next endocrinologist at NUH who suggested I did radiation on my thyroid.

I was furious for a week.

It’s akin to asking someone with carpal tunnel to amputate their forearm – the underlying cause isn’t solved.

In any case, I will be pairing the western meds with TCM once again. My Chinese physician is quite confident he can cure me, and I have utterly lost hope in western science after 7 years, when the first senior consultant at KTPH said I would be discharged in 2.

I now realise there are limits to western medicine.

They are good for acute conditions, but not good for chronic ones.

So there.

Another reason why I am convinced the depression is caused by the carbimazole is because there was no trigger.

The last few times I was so massively depressed, I was:

• experiencing the death of my friend who died by suicide
• having an existential crisis in my final year at uni
• feeling like JC was pointless

This time, there was no triggers. The only precipitating event was the consumption of an increased dose of carbimazole.

I wanted to send papers to my endo at NUH who refused to admit my lived experience and said that depression isn’t caused by the meds. In the end I didn’t. I felt like it would be useless. Mindsets are after all hard to change if one’s mind is set.

Thankfully, after a year and a half of therapy with an excellent therapist sponsored by my friend, I now have better coping mechanisms.

I am learning to set boundaries at home with my parents, and also take care of myself by having a weekly date alone with yours truly.

Morning pages (aka journalling) daily helps too, as well as regular outings in nature.

Cat-sitting was excellent for me, as is keeping plants.

I’m grateful to all the conditions that have led to where I am today.

May all be well and happy.

Peace.

P.S. Here is a wishlist I made today if you wish to buy me some books as I rest and recover.

Taking some time out during my lunch break today to write about purpose.

This is something I’m currently thinking about due to a series of events that happened recently.

In Singapore, everyone is obsessed with rushing about.

At work, we rush to see how much we can do in a day.

On social media, we rush about to post, seeing if we can become influencers some day.

Back at home, we rush through our chores, hoping to get some rest and respite at the end of the day.

But what if doing the work is part of your purpose?

Perhaps being present, doing what you are doing mindfully, is part of the pleasure and purpose of doing it in the first place?

Recently, I attended a mixer where at least two people told us we needed to already prepare for our programme in June and blast it out as soon as possible.

I’m not sure why but something inside of me was uncomfortable with that.

Last year, I had to take 6 months off to rest due to depression. Life went on.

This year, I am experiencing the beginnings of a mild depression creeping up slowly upon me again, and it dawned on me that I never truly learnt the lessons served to me last year.

Without rest, I become depressed.

Overworking is a habit as it was one cultivated since I began going to kindergarten at 4.

I remember meeting up with my Junior College classmate and her daughter once and the kid complained to me how mommy always rushes her to school every morning.

My friend’s a responsible mother living in fast-paced Singapore, so I don’t blame her for it.

And yet.

I begin to see the glimmers of truth.

The truth is, if I spend my life rushing to attend events, rushing to organise events, rushing to post on social media about said events, rushing to host it, and when it’s over, rushing to do the next one, I’ll never learn to lean into my purpose.

As a Projector, I am learning that I need to not only wait for my invitation, I need to also choose wisely.

Overwork might be sexy in Singapore, but it’s not sexy for my body, nor for my mind.

I took one day off this week to just lie on the sofa, read, and hang out with the cats.

By the end of the day, I felt recharged and rejuvenated.

That’s the first time I truly rested since I began working again since the start of this month.

Feeling overwhelmed with life, I booked an appointment with my earlier this week, texted people to cancel on a bunch of commitments, and felt immediately lighter.

Self-care is foreign to a lot of us millennials raised in evangelical churches.

In my mid-30s, I am just beginning to learn how to prioritise myself instead of the needs of others, urgent as they may be.

It’s easy to say that we cannot pour out of an empty cup, but many of us do so anyway out of habit and out of necessity.

Perhaps this is a lesson I must learn until I internalise it.

I also recently began thinking about the bigger picture.

In the larger scheme of things, why am I here?

Am I here to work hard, achieve financial independence in 10 years, and finally achieve my dream of running a queer bookstore with a brick and mortar storefront in Singapore?

I think there’s gotta be more to life.

Reading some books recently have made me rethinking the way I live. If there is something larger than myself, a bigger purpose than just earning a living (even if it’s something “noble” like teaching or running a queer bookstore in a conservative country) then I need to spend time to realise it.

I’ve been spending time contemplating on what that bigger purpose might possibly be, and I think I have an inkling of an answer.

It’s growing stronger every day, and it’s getting me to re-evaluate every single area of my life.

At work, I need to connect with my students, not just impart knowledge to them, important as that might be. Knowledge will come with time, and a safe space. I am that safe space to my kids.

At home, I need to spend time working on my health. Qigong and Convict Conditioning exercises help. I missed some days this month due to tiredness and illness, but I shall endeavour to resume these light workouts come March.

At church, I need to reassess how I approach spirituality. Divinity is bigger than dogma. This is regardless of religion. I’ve seen fundamentalist beliefs propagated in not just Christian group chats, but also Buddhist and Taoist ones. No one is free from dogma. One needs to actively work against it, especially in a country where we are taught that there is only one right answer.

Traditions have fossilised over time, even new ones.

There is a need to flow with Divinity, and not get stuck in a religious rut.

It’s so easy to run the rat race cos it’s what everyone around me does.

It’s counterintuitive to step out of the rat race, and enjoy the abundance that is present in all that life can offer.

I am learning that the universe provides.

And I am learning to lean into that provision.

It is difficult, it is paradoxical, but it is ultimately all of what life truly is about.

The fullness of life awaits you, are you prepared to partake of it?

Grief, black as the darkest night, bubbles up from the deepest part of my soul. As she surfaces, breaking through my consciousness, I weep.

I weep for the child who was threatened.

I weep for the teenager who cried herself to sleep.

I weep for the adult with no home to call her own.

And yet. Grief sits down beside her friend Hope, the non-binary creature so amorphous, yet luminescent as glowworms in a sightless cave.

Hope whispers to Grief, “One day…”

“One day, you’ll have a home of your own. You’ll host quarterly dinners for your chosen family. Laughter will fill your house, and your friends will appreciate this oasis in the queer desert that is your country.”

“One day, you’ll be the loving parent you never had. You’ll reach out to the memory of the child that was afraid, and embrace her, comforting her, soothing her. You’ll tell her that it will all be alright. Eventually, the dawn will arrive.”

“One day,” Hope promises, “one day.”

I am surrounded by books.

Books have kept me alive. A whole world unfolding in the pages within. I’ve travelled across the globe in my library.

I’ve tasted the sweet delights of pleasure through books.

I’ve plucked the forbidden fruit of pluralism through books.

I’ve swallowed the ambrosia, the intoxicating drink of freedom through books.

Censorship might prevail for a little while, yet these dead trees, tattooed with Hope, soothes my soul.

Grief sips a cup of Earl Grey even as Hope nurses their up of steaming oat white.

“Thank you, my friend,” Grief says.

Finishing their drink, they stand and warmly embrace for a moment, that felt like eternity.

Today I visited Bird Paradise for the first time with my girlfriend. I was initially hesistant cos I am sad to see animals in captivity, but this park was a gamechanger!

The penguins had an incredibly deep pool to dive in, and a gigantic enclosure to swim around in. Some were prancing around in the water, hopping up into the air with obvious delight, then twisting and turning as they dove back in.

I felt happy for them.

Then there was a giant aviary where colourful macaws soared high up in the air, and scarlet ibises roamed freely. It was a bird paradise indeed.

Yet the thing that touched me the most was an unwilling performer in the 12:30pm show.

Rose, a huge bird whose species I forgot, did not wish to fly about to entertain us.

When the trainer said, “Let’s not force her to come back, she looks like she wants to go home,” I nearly cried right there and then.

Growing up, I had to do so many things I did not wish to do. Extra Chinese homework in primary school cos I was terrible at the subject. Extra tuition lessons for Physics and Mathematics cos I was failing so badly in Junior College. Serving in church even though I was deeply depressed during university.

I see the same lack of agency in the kids I teach the past decade and a half. Maybe one reason why I am so well liked by my children might be due to the fact that I let them choose, when they never could. Even if it might be a tiny decision, whether to use my pencil or their own, at least they are making a choice of their own.

The kindness of the person wielding power over the bird broke something within me. A reservoir of tears leaked out throughout the day. I was crying while drinking hot chocolate at Awfully Chocolate while waiting for my laundry to be done. But it isn’t a bad thing.

I read a friend post on Twitter about how all of us need to cry a requisite bucket of tears. Once that’s done, our souls will feel lighter and happier. I fully agree. I think a lot of mental malaise I experience might be due to the suppression of tears.

Next time I shall not blink away my tears even during a happy performance. Not on a train, nor at work, or even in church. I shall let my tears freely flow, because experiencing the full spectrum of emotions is part of what makes me human.

Hello Sadness, I am not going to push you aside anymore. You are welcome in this place. And suddenly, my chest seems much lighter as Sadness no longer fights to get my attention.

I am glad.