Crazy Train.

“Mental wounds not healing. Driving me insane.”

Your mind is like a train.
Sometimes, the journey is smooth.
Sometimes, the train breaks down.
Sometimes, the engines run fast.
Sometimes, they’re slow.

The different stations are ideals and dreams you had and thoughts are your passengers. Thoughts board and thoughts alight. But you, the train conductor, remain the constant.

But what happens when your train completely derails and your thoughts are all over the place?

Physically, i’m at work. But my mental state is so far gone. I’m here. But i’m not here.

You’re just talking to someone whose train not only has derailed but somehow it hasn’t hit the ground yet. It’s still stuck in free fall. I know the impact is impending but i don’t see myself bracing for it. And when my train finally hits the ground, i don’t feel the need to pick my scattered thoughts.

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Teacher.

This one goes out to all my friends in the teaching fratenity.

How do you stay in the service for so long? How do you not get burnt out?

I love teaching. Don’t get me wrong. It’s more than a passion to me. I’ve always felt like helping the world is my calling. And i believe helping children in every way possible and teaching them to save themselves and the world around them satisfy my calling. I love being in a classroom teaching my children about life and the necessities of life, be it academic or not. And i love learning things i’ve never heard of or thought of or realised when i was younger.

But being a teacher is not just teaching alone. It comes with so many other responsibilities that just dampens the flame. Admin work. Weekly lesson plans/ reflection. Book check. Schemes of work. Neverending marking. Also, working with people who may or may not help you grow. And people who may or may not put you down.

Three years (as a trained teacher) into this service and i feel like i don’t belong anymore. I’ve never been more depressed in my whole life. There are days that i dread work because there’s just too much to do outside the classroom. The only reason i keep going back is because i want to see my children and be there for them and help them grow. Lately, i have been questioning my career choice and wondering how do other teachers do it? How do they stay in the service for so long? How do you keep your fire burning?

I’m burnt out. That’s for sure. From the beginning of this year, i had nothing but doubts in myself. I felt that everything i was doing was not right. And work felt more and more overwhelming with each passing day.

A few years back, my financial agent asked me when did i think i’d retire from being a teacher. I told him i never want to. I wanted to be a teacher my entire life. I didnt see myself wanting to leave the service ever because of the calling i felt.

I’m not so sure anymore.

My mind forgets to remind me you’re a bad idea.

“You’re the kinda reckless that should send me running but I kinda know that I won’t get far.”

I met K for a smoke a couple of days back. I didn’t need to smoke. I just needed to be engulfed in the second hand fumes of his Winston red. I miss him. And I miss his smell.

I had the worst day but being with K for even just a mere hour was so comforting. He knows me enough. How to cheer me up. What to say to get my mind off things.

It’s crazy how we always ended turning to each other with our problems. I honestly don’t know who else to turn (apart from Hunnybear) to talk about my life. It’s always K. And it’s always so much more easier with K.

But at the back of my head, I know that K is a problem to me too.

Someday, I will understand.

“No moment will be more true. Than the moment I look at you.”

My best friend gave birth today. A happy and healthy baby boy. Alhamdulillah. I want to visit her soon and shower my love for that boy. I can’t help it. I have a soft spot for baby boys. I know when I look into a baby’s eyes, I see the Universe.

All my life, I knew I wanted to be a mother so badly. I even started naming my future children even when I was still a teenager. Mohammed Asyiq. Serafina Banu. Farhaan Khan. Anastashia Banu. Shaista Banu (currently the name of my niece but I thought about it once before). Mohammed Azfar. Hayder Khan. I just had so many names. Mostly, I could think of boy names because I wanted a baby boy so badly.

When I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCO), I was heartbroken. Being a mother was my purpose in life but my condition actually lessened my chances. I was so worried that I could never get pregnant or I could never have a safe pregnancy.

I had a scare a couple of years ago. My then partner and I used protection. We always did but that night, he got worried and told me to see the doctor the next day for an Emergency Contraceptive Pill. In my head, I was thinking if I got pregnant, even by accident and unplanned, I could never get rid of my baby. He kept telling me we were both not ready to be parents. Little did he know, I was so ready. I wanted to be a mother so badly. Of course, the ECP worked and I was not pregnant. I’m not even sure if we needed that ECP in the first place.

When the time comes and I finally find someone who loves me enough to want to build a family with me, and I finally get to hold my own baby boy in my arms, I know my life would be complete. The Universe would be one with me and my baby and I would have found my purpose again.

K. Special K. Vitamin K.

“Nothing ever gets me high like this. I pick my poison and it’s you. Nothing could kill me like you do. You’re going straight to my head. And I’m headed straight for the edge.”

I haven’t seen you or talked to you in a while. I feel like I’m having a relapse right now and all I can think about is you. All I want right now is you. Fuck. I really miss you. But it seems that you always pop back into my life whenever I’m comfortable with someone.

I still remember how sick it felt when you were my someone else when I was with someone. Just like how I was your someone else when you were with someone. Let’s not forget, you’re still with that same someone but I left mine. Sometimes, I wished I never encouraged you to fight for her. But it sickens me that I almost became that kind of person that I always hated. A liar. A cheat. A thief. I put an end to us and put other people’s feelings before mine. That’s why I backed off. You were like a drug to me. The poison I turned to to escape from life. The one I loved and lost, and loved and lost again and again and again. I keep relapsing. I can never shake you off.

And the fucked up thing is. I’m sure you feel the same way I do to. That’s why you keep coming back. And I keep letting you in.

Not this time. Please. Not this time again.

Sink or Swim?

This year, I’ve been given all sorts of responsibilities at work. Yet again, my plate is piled on high.

It’s only February and I’m already drowning in work. It’s days like these that make me question my career choice. Maybe I should go 3/4 load next year? Just to avoid all these unnecessary responsibilities. I don’t want to plan events or be in-charge of whatever programmes. I just want to teach.

They say teachers wear many hats. Like Bartholomew Cubbins. But each hat is heavy. Some heavier than the others. Some attracts more attention than others. I don’t want to wear hats. I just want to teach.

So sink or swim? Right now, I’m drowning. Someone, please throw me a float.