Of suffering. Who knew.

I was at the gym today, as usual, to pursue my sadistic pleasure. In my blurry vision ( I don’t wear my glasses at the gym) I made out the form of an Asian girl. If I was any more short sighted, I might have missed her altogether! She was put new meaning to the adjective “stick figure”! I knew I shouldn’t, but just as boys can’t leave a dead insect alone, I couldn’t help looking. Honestly, if you looked from an angle, you could mistake it for a piece of hair in front of your eye. Don’t get me wrong. I am not making fun of her. Nor am I pitying her. I, for one, would be first to volunteer that my self image and eating habits aren’t entirely related to hunger. It did, however, lead me to think, what drives her. I have blogged (evidently, this is not a word in Microsoft Word) about body image and my views on that before. I won’t repeat myself. Instead, I wondered about pain…and perhaps suffering. To distract myself from staring, I started thinking. I was listening to the BBC yesterday (yes, it’s a fetish of mine). An Anglican bishop was giving a talk on Lent, on giving up pleasures. He said that Christians emphasise the suffering of Jesus too much. There were, afterall, more painful ways of dying in those days. He felt that the Jesus’ mission was to spread the Good News for the living, not for the dead. So He said, Let the dead bury the dead (don’t know which bit of scripture it’s from) to people, which was outrageous to the Jews in those days. The reason for Jesus’ death on the Cross was for the redemption of life. Thus the ultimate important issue is Life not death or suffering. A point he felt, is lost, in today’s pre occupation with explanations for why God allows disasters. I guess he’s trying to say that it’s important to look at life, and live it, not trying to explain it. Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to bad people. Perhaps Christians have a defensiveness around suffering – why their God, my God (given that I do identify myself as a Christian), allows it to happen. Understanding is important to enable “getting through” but when it becomes an all consuming pursuit, it can be a hindrance. And there has been a lot of talk along this line around me presently…Hmm, I hope no one from my church reads this… Anyway, God meant for all things to be good and beautiful. It is the interference of sin (original sin is often cited here) that it doesn’t work out that way. God therefore chose to atone this by Jesus’ sacrifice. It is along the idea of a judge, wouldn’t simply annul a law, to acquit a murder, even if the murderer is his blood brother. Did God allow it to happen? Apparently so. Did He want it to happen? Doesn’t seem like it, otherwise why bother with the atonement? Could He have stopped it? Probably, if you believe He can do all things as the Bible claims. Why He didn’t stop it? That is the question. At this point, I think it is also important not to loose sight of the ULTIMATE goal – for people to be fulfilled and happy. But because of the problem with sin (original sin and all), it had to be atoned. Hence the Cross and Jesus’ death. But what God truly wants, is for people to be happy – contentment, perhaps is a better word. For I’m certain God does not condone partying all night, take drugs, get #@$%%^. I guess I take a very pragmatic view of things. I, for one, cannot explain suffering, why it happens to good people, why it happens to bad people. I have had shit happen in my life. “shit” – dad having a stroke, the best person I know developing a horrible mental illness, I don’t know if it is “shit” in God’s eyes but it feels like it to me. The way I look at it, it happens to everyone, some more than others. One has no choice about it. One does, however, choose how to react. I hope I’m not sounding self righteous. I have many, MANY weaknesses, skeletons in the Olivia Lee closet is stacked! Granted that understanding “why” it happens helps one to deal with it, I wonder, if the reason it remains an enigma may be the God doesn’t want it to be understood…just now. PERHAPS, if we understood it, we would become complacent. Maybe, not knowing, thus constant questioning, leads to pursuit of improvement, even if, the ultimate eradication of suffering, is not, within human means. Part of the purpose of being human, is getting there… Back to reality. Sweat and heat of the gym floor. I wince at her every movement. I fear she might snap at any moment. Plus the fact that she keeps dropping these silent farts that are quite frankly…lethal. So I went home promptly. PS. The second bit of the title refers to the Eminem song…and yes, as an Asian female, I agree with that line referring to driving :-P

and my mother too

The way my blog doesn’t keep spaces is really annoying. It makes out like I don’t know how to form paragraphs. So I’m typing this in word, wonder if it would make a difference. I had an “exchange” with mum again today, via e mail. I told her I was planning to go to Borneo over Easter for a holiday before I settle down and start studying for the exam in October. She again used the typical Asian woman passive aggressive reply. Essentially, she felt I shouldn’t go, for various reasons I won’t elaborate on. Given that relationship between me and my mum are, at best, icy, this didn’t help. My weekly visit to her place is out of cultural responsibility and not much else. Yet, I know, in my deepest of hearts, that she loves me. I know, in below the deepest buried skeleton of my closet, I love her too. I then wondered what it was that drove us to act with such hostility and passive aggressiveness. Each time we have a “disagreement” (absolute understatement) it inevitably arouse guilt as deep as the Grand Canyon. As I said, I know she is my mother. Perhaps more to the point, how things could change. I came to the conclusion that we are two people, each with our own world view, our own faults and credits. In our own circles, we receive validation for who we are. We may disagree but it does not necessarily mean that one of us is wrong. Afterall, as I previously blogged (evidently this is not a word on Microsoft word…), we are entitled to be ourselves. Implicit in that we each have the right to be respected for who we are. If she believes that she is right, and she can somehow construct the world to agree with her, who am I to dispute? But then I thought, if she is allowed to believe as she wishes, how does this differ from being “delusional” or mental? No, that wasn’t a joke! Well, may be… But seriously, if we lock up people who think differently from ourselves (you can argue that is what a delusion is, belief that other people don’t agree with), my mother say that I am a failure because I haven’t passed my RANZCPsych exam, or that travelling is a waste time and money, walking through her door tomorrow, what makes me sane and her insane? Or vice versa for that matter. I tried to think of reasons for her comments. I can only conclude that she wants me to do well. She knows the importance of career and financial independence. It is because she wants that for me, yet she is not me, she says and acts as she does. Who know? Maybe I would find that I am mistaken for spending so much on travelling. Maybe I should pay more attention to my appearance to find a husband. YET, I am my own person. In being such, I am responsible for the choices I make. Clever roads. Successes. Sadistic acts. Callous views. All. I think I’ve reached some sort of agreement with myself – I’m still allowed to do as I do. I can find no good solution except to say that I will try to see the relationship behind the interactions. It is too much to ask of her to understand me. We are polarities apart EXCEPT for the blood connection. I can agree to disagree with my patients on matters like aliens control their brain. As long as they don’t go exorcising their aliens from their heads, I am happy to discharge them home. I can surely do that with my own mother. God made her my mother. I don’t dare to say that God is wrong! The relationship drove us to be connected, the relationship keeps me to her. Relationships, funny thing isn’t it.

reflections from On Beauty by Zadie Smith

Tonight is the last of the night shift, yay! Over the week, I've managed to finish the Bill Bryson book and this one by Zadie Smith. It was a very enjoyable read. I wondered why it was called "On Beauty". I thought about "beauty" from several angles. Most superficially, beauty as in appearance and size. It was interesting how Smith mentioned each woman's size, the women's own view of beauty, as well as making some comments to what society call beauty. I thought it was intriguing how the African/ black women all had different view on size and beauty according to, if you like, how white they are on the inside. That is, the more ethnically connected, the less that woman was inclined to value being skinny, having big breasts and round bottom, as beautiful. Kiki, the main female character was obese yet constantly being described as being beautiful, even by other women. The beauties in the paintings referred to in the book would be judged as obese by today's society. Yet these paintings are the lifetime works of men, yet more men devote a life time to study. They are valued by today's society, in the millions. How conflicting and incongruous. What is the standard of beauty would society have us believe? There is the idea of "beauty" being innocence. In the story, Levi was taken by the plight of the Haitians and poverty in general. Despite being a middle classed suburbana teenager, he found himself fighting, even, in the end, potentially sacrificing his future, for a people whom, superficially, have nothing in common with. It was purely recognising that those in poverty were made of the same essence as himself. That was sufficient "glue" to stick him to them. He has no other redeeming quality, yet, I thought his naivety beuatiful. How many of us can give up so much, for something so distant. Next I come to the beauty of strength. If I had written this book and called it On Beauty, it would be because of Kiki. Obese. Black. Menopausal. How does a woman, whose belly hangs over the elastics of leggings, that spreads beyond the handles of a seat, be beautiful? By being kind, generous, genuine. She is the mother - to her children, her husband and her friends. In putting the needs of others in front of her own, she is the "looker - after-er". Perhaps it is this reason she forgave her husband's infidelities. Yet a genuine entitlement to being herself led her to both sense and express the betrayal and disappointment she felt. Yes, "entitlement to be yourself". I really liked that expression. One needs to be taught that we are all entitled to be ourselves. It is a God given right. Otherwise He would not have made us the way we are. Because we are allowed to be ourselves, we are allowed to be possessive of the love of our lives, and feel hurt and jealousy. It is something I have yet to learn myself. I live in the shadow of what others deem beautiful. It is the root of my problem. Maybe that is why I know, at least on the intellectual level, that I am not beautiful. The natural question then, would be, how does one feel beautiful? How does one find the entitlement of being onself? From the book, I would suggest "belonging" - the sense of belonging that one is not alone, one is validated by others in that group. Perhaps it only reflects my own lack of belonging that I find the book raises this issue. In many ways, I think the characters in the book are all seeking their belonging, their identity. Clearly family is one place where one can feel accepted. Afterall, blood is thicker than water, so the saying goes. This unspeakable bond sometimes only emerges when the storm of life blows through. But what interested me was Levi's sense of comraderie in suffering in the book. It is perhaps through the lense of youth that the beauty of humanity comes into sharper focus. It leads onto a less prominent idea of beauty - the beauty of justice. I suppose I shouldn't say exactly what happened because it's a bit of climax of the book. How do you fix povery? If a poor man steals to feed his family, regardless, it is scorned by society. Voting for Hilary or Obama, would that fix it? One finds that answer through history, I would have thought. Perhaps social justice is as elusive as beauty, alluring yet unattainable. However, I do not, for one minute, advocate complacency. Much like my theory on suffering, I think perhaps the enigma of it, the unattainability of it, drives us to constantly strive for justice, for beauty. For, perhaps, beauty knows no bounds.

ramblings about DSM IV

It's the weekend again. In fact, the best day of the weekend has mostly gone already! But then again, may be we won't appreciate the weekends so much if the majority of the week are weekdays. Things are more precious when they are rare. It's the problem with being human, taking things for granted, becoming tolerant of luxury. A person in the desert would see a bottle of water as the best drink in the world. People in the developed world have to make up all these fancy drinks and bubbles to make the basic necessity of life, consumable. I am probably the first to be guilty of this. I hate water and have to add various sugars/ tea/ coffee to keep myself hydrated. The exception being at the gym, when thirst drives the foulest liquid taste like honey dew. I met up with a friend last night. I was almost reluctant to do it initially. I was afraid I would have nothingn to say. I hate the feeling of "needing to find something to talk about". I always have this fear, no matter who it is I meet. It's less troublesome with close friends but the few hours prior, I still have this anxiety about me. I can only thank God (literally) that I have friends who pull me out, ask me out. At a certain point, I establish a sense of confidence that the other person actually doesn't mind spending time with me. At that stage, I'm more at ease at asking them out. I notice that I often ask Dr Fruitloop out for movies now. Eventhough he doesn't always "say yes" to the times I suggest, he's always willing. As with Dr Sexy, she's a good friend. I don't think she realises how very few people I actually confide the things I spoke to her about. Conversely, I felt previleged to hear her thoughts and her worries. It's a funny thing, human relationships. What is it that makes one person become best friend with another? One perfectly nice person does not necessarily feel comfortable to confide with another upstanding member of society. I think of The Master. He's known me since I was a house officer. He's seen me fall apart into pool of snot and tears. Yet, our conversation cannot venture beyond jokes and gossip around work. He's uncomfortable even asking me about the most superficial of matters, outside of work. That is why I dread seeing him too often. There is only so much joking around I can manage. I scramble for topics with him. At the gym today, I was so enveloped in my imagination that I really think I should become a Mills and Boon writer! Things I fantasised so far fetched, so melodramatic, it's shameful! I was plotting in my mind, all that I would say to him, in reply to his e mail, which would remain professional, yet also disclose aspects of myself. I thought about psychiatry what I would say about adversity. Anyone can thrive in optomised condition - good upbringing, good parents, good schooling, wealth and so on. It is within adversity and how one reacts or copes, that defines oneself. I suppose the problem with mental illness is that it affects the very character of a person, how a person copes and reacts. It may be relatively easy to say the someone who believes aliens are transmitting messages through his head, is ill. Even then, I'm sure some groups in the middle of nowhere in USA, it's a normal belief! It is merky when it comes to depression and anxiety type disorders, particularly at the milder end. When does "wanting time alone" become social withdrawal and isolation? When does sadness become depression? For DSM purposes, when someone is "functionally impaired" then it is diagnosable. That in itself is such a vague concept. That is "the line" drawn, so to speak. Yet one person undergoing one set of adversity may become severely depressed. Another person with the same circumstances may not, may in fact become more resilient. One's upbringing, one's relationships and supports clearly influence this. So it's not correct to totally externalise mental illness to "sickeness", like one would, with a cold, or the pneumonia. One can see why some people choose not to "draw the line" at all, that mental illness does not exist. They say it's all character weakness and demons. As a psychiatric trainee, and a Christian, I struggle with it at times as well. I think, "the line" is arbitary, but there are clear instances where one is no longer oneself. The threshold, is then, debatable. I'm sure I have over simplified the issue. Indeed, I have not come to any conclusion. In a way, I think "the line" of pathology needs to be personalised, on a person by person case. After all, each person's resources and weaknesses are different. Even their level of functioning is different. Thus an illness which is causing "functional impairment" in a professor, may be inappropriate for a street sweeper. Hmm...

incurable day dreamer

Over the weekend, I had no computer. I felt SO lonely! I didn't have the net to procrastinate so I did manage to do some reading as well as finish the book God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. Yet I still avoid invitations and social gatherings. WHY??? I ask myself. I spend my day between work, gym, computer. I do, however, ask a select group of people to do things. It is always at my discretion. I relish that control I suppose. Obviously, I only want to interact with people that I enjoy the company of. That is not to say that I don't like the company of the gatherings I avoid. It is so weird. I'm not social phobic but I am such an incurable hermit! I can see that when I get old and demented, there is a high probability I would end up in urban legends as the spinster old witch! That's why I need a husband I suppose :-P In fact, the two women I met up with in the weekend told me to give them The List and they will pray for me! HAAA! Well, here it is - tall, dark, handsome but love me to the end of time, humourous and intelligent, someone that would protect me! As you can see, it's pretty much only Prince Charming from Fairytale Land would do (in fact, he probably won't do, he's too pale!). So I too have to live in LaLaLand. Any single guy I meet, that is remotely soothing to the eye, and I have interactions with, I day dream about. So the current one is good with money, a professor, and a real family man :-P I'd hopefully never meet him in person otherwise all the qualities my imagination attributed to him may be spoilt! Ahhhh, I'm a weird incurable hermit!

incredible women

Yeah! Got my computer back! But, it has NOT been fixed. BUT the original problem seem to have gone. MAGIC! Gosh, didn't blog in the weekend because of Dell getting sick :-) and they took 5 #$^%&^* days to get the part, and STILL it hasn't been fixed...so really, I would not recommend Dell ever again! It's so nice to have a holiday today. Slept in until 9. It's such a luxury when I usually get up at 5 in the flipping morning...ok ok, it's self inflicted because of my obsession with going to the gym. I realised that is the only place I can legitimately day dream. I can imagine myself as the lead singer in Muse, fanatically jumping around with the base guitar, with an evil smile singing Apocalypse Please. I go into Narcissistic-Histrionic Land imaging myself as Christina Aguilera or Jennifer Lopez gyrating on the stage or dancing in suggestive moves to certain members of the audience - usually certain people I have a crush on at the time :-P I know, it's embarassing. Surely at the age of 31, I should have migrated out of LalaLand and into the more depressing United Kingdom of Reality. Anyway, that is why I am so obsessed with going to the gym. Met up with another Christian woman in the weekend. It never ceases to amaze me how some people can be so enthusiastic, so full of optomism all the time. I suppose I like her also because she and her friend seem to see my achievements rather than failures. They are in a different field of work also made it less likely I felt competitive in any way. It is also probably no coincidence that they are both generous size so I don't feel threatened. I find it sad that is the probable underlying reason. It just reflects how I still have this need to "step down" on others to feel myself valued. Yet, it was a good experience. One of the woman had lived in Africa, she gave up law to work because of poverty. The other woman studied film. She worked in such colourful places including massage parlours that I realised they are SUCH UNIQUE people! They are experiences that I would most likely NOT be able to survive! As a result, I have a deep sense of respect for them. It strengthened my previous realisation. I want to define myself, and others, by character, rather than awards or appearance. I like it! I can respect them even though, if not because of, our differences. God has different paths for me from them. It does not make them or me, more or less valuable. I'm glad I'm learning this. I'm thankful to God for guiding me this way.