I feel very much at peace with myself right now.
That's something hard to come by, especially after spending years struggling to come to terms with certain facts. One of which concerns my father's passing and that's still difficult to fully accept but in this moment, I am at peace with myself.
I almost never head out on my own because there's no specific reason to but yesterday was one of the rare days I took time off for myself and headed to town to do a little shopping while getting some things done.
There was no way to avoid the overcrowded streets. I started at Orchard Gateway, dropped by Robinsons, headed to Takashimaya next before ending off at ION but people were streaming in from every corner. I don't particularly hate crowds but it sometimes gets overwhelming to be in a sea of strangers.
Anyway, it was a good 3 hours spent in town while sipping on my Alisan milk tea from Gong Cha. (I have to say my obsession with Alisan Milk Tea is skyrocketing. I used to only drink pudding milk tea from Share Tea but Alisan milk tea is slowly but surely ruining my bias list.)
The first shop I walked into was, unsurprisingly, Hollyhoque but something really surprising happened in there. I don't usually try on clothes. I've a keen eye so I know just by looking if I'd fit the cut and if the design is suitable. I don't know what possessed me that day but I tried on a dress and while slipping it on, I accidentally snapped one of its straps!
How horrified I was I actually froze for a good 20 seconds in the changing room. I have never done such a thing before. You know the once-broken-considered-sold signs they put up against fragile items? All I could think of was having to pay $30 for a dress I'd have to later fix on my own. In that panicked state, I told myself: "Okay Smi, you've got to go out there and settle it like a mature lady." But truth is, I was still shitting bricks inside.
I timidly unlocked the door and took baby steps towards the staff. In a small voice, I told her: "I'm so sorry but I accidentally snapped the strap... but I do want to buy this piece," while showing her the now-defected item. I was not coerced by my own guilty conscience to make the purchase, by the way. I bought it because I genuinely wanted it. (It's a dress that goes well with my boots and I'm thinking of wearing it on Monday when I make my comeback at the office.)
I was expecting the worst and by the worst, I mean I was expecting her to demand a compensation but she was so kind!? I apologised once more at the counter and she told me she'll just return the item to the warehouse as a defected good. I'm so touched!!! On top of the dress, I bought a simple black top and got 10% off.
After that, I wandered off to run errands for my mom.
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I think it's amazing how I used to hate being alone yet I can now accomplish so much on my own.
The idea of being alone bothered me to no ends when I was growing up. In school, I wanted to be surrounded by friends. And after school, I wanted even more to stay in school where all my friends were.
I never ate alone and when I did, it'd be indulging in instant noodles in the comforts of my own home. I never went anywhere alone unless it was to meet someone. I never went home alone and if I had to, I'd plug in and pretend I'm invisible. Is that actually a reflection of my insecurities and inferior complex? I think so.
But I sure have come a long way thanks to internship. The 22 weeks spent at SPH Magazines has toughened me up quite a bit and that includes overcoming my fear of eating alone.
I still remember when my stylist abruptly abandoned me halfway through sourcing. It was lunchtime and she suddenly stopped in the middle of nowhere and said, "Okay, go have lunch. I'll meet you in an hour's time."
For the first time, I lugged my pink luggage into a not-so-fancy restaurant and had fish and chips for lunch. It was an experience to remember.
Fast-forward to a couple of months later and I'm more than willing to eat on my own anytime than to share a table with pretentious, insincere people I would naively consider friends if I was younger. Speaking of which, I don't even keep in contact with any of my so-called friends from Secondary School except for a handful. The cliques I used to be proud I belonged to have gone on without me (but I think it was a decision I made to put my life in place.)
I value the time I get on my own. I love when I'm comfortable with myself. I shop on my own, eat on my own and get everything down on my own. And I think it's something to be proud of.
A lot of the time I get to myself is when I'm updating my diary or when I'm in the shower. I mean, it's good to have me-time. It's the time I use to reflect on myself, to make plans for the future, to lay down goals and objectives both short-term and long-term. It's time I get to myself. Consider it a self-exploration where I get to know myself better.
But too much me-time can be destructive and I say this because sometimes, we're not kind to ourselves. When things go wrong, we blame ourselves. When we don't do well enough (and most of the time this is according to standards others set for us), we voluntarily shoulder the burden. When people stir shit for us and we're caught in a tight situation, we blame it on our lack of ability for prevention.
What's difficult is striking a balance between self-love and self-obsession. And that's a thin line to tread, really. But this is really subjective. My motto in life is to never shortchange myself or anyone else and I think that has kept me in check quite well.
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