Self-body image and the post- millennial teen

Of millennial excess and obsession with self- body image...

"To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don't need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself."

Thich Nhat Hanh

Growing up in the eighties, I was always called chicken legs or pancake face for my high wide cheek bones. Being from Penang and of part-Sumatran Peranakan blood, I was never the quintessentially fair maiden of Chinese bloodline, who plasters Hazeline Snow on her face to become even that much fairer to exude the stereotypical look of fairness and beauty.

My teen years were a blur of poetry writing, essay perfecting, Sweet Dreams reading, Scrabble-playing and plenty of books, playing tricks on teachers and gossiping about boys that didn’t really exist in our all-girls school and hiding myself behind the comfort of uber thick and uncool photo-gray glasses.

Did it affect my self- esteem? Surprisingly no!

Was I even aware that I was entitled to one? Perhaps not.

I was born very boyish looking, with fairly large (for a Chinese) dark eyes with double eye-lids and features that apparently weren’t terrible Chinese and a large nose with high cheek bones.

As my adolescent best mates grew breasts, mine probably stopped when I was 14 and a half, and it has stayed that way since. With my narrow hips, I was often also called 'no waist' by family members.

Hence, angular, awkward, chicken-legged and dark, I wasn’t exactly anyone’s dream teen girlfriend material, not to hetero- boys that didn’t exist nor the lesbian girls in my Convent school.

Instead, I grew and nurtured my inner Ninja-of feminist traits of confidence and intellectual and emotional strength, and acquired a self-esteem that suffered no fools.

In 6th form, I almost caused a scandal by dating the handsome and most coveted Head-boy, a boy of mixed parentage, Bollywood eye candy of sorts. I quickly discovered that looks aren't everything.

In summer school in Hawaii, I was smitten by a blonde long -haired hippie poet, who introduced me to Jack Kerouac and Milan Kundera, my summer romance, which I thought could pass off as Brad Pitt and he thought my almost purple hair was too beautiful for words.

I had my fair share of boyfriends until I met my better half, with his curly hair and Tin Tin t-shirts and the gentlest, kindest, funniest man in the world, who still rocks my world after 18 years together.

Did I let my body image and pop culture affect my crucial life decisions?

Luckily not.

For I was fortunate enough to be shielded from feeling shite about myself from looking at fashion or lifestyle teen magazines which celebrated sexy bikini- clad models, waif thin, smooth ivory skin, yet with boobs spilling out like no tomorrow. I was cocooned from all media of self-loathing.

-I didn’t have internet websites like Pro -ANA sites giving me thinspiration, no thank you.

-I didn’t have photo-shopped, air- brushed models with 6 -pecs and skinny arms jumping out at me to tell me that I was fat, ugly, gangly, uncoordinated , flat-chested, short.

-I didn’t have K-pop stars who look like fake double- lidded clones, and post -plastic surgery success stories staring at me at tell me that I needed my eye lids fixed, or my bulbous nose streamlined or needed a tummy tuck.

I remembered Karen Carpenter dying of self- inflicted starvation and my no nonsense mother telling me how tragic, silly and unnecessary that was. And I believe her till this day.

So, I never had the propensity starve myself( for I was taught to love food and to enjoy it or go hungry and offend my ancestors), or have the urge to throw up, or to be of one particular skinny, cool, gorgeous look. I did have a hideous Diana Ross perm once and carrot jeans and big T shirts and large loop earrings.

Now, I am so aware, so alarmed and SO TERRIBLE SADDENED, by young girls self- harming or starving themselves to look a certain part or to grab the attention of somebody or create a drama or some show because of popular culture and in internet. Too many, too soon.

I know every child, every teen operates differently.

Kids these days have too much. They roll in a world of excess. Often the fault of indulgent parents who believe they are providing the best. These excesses of wealth, time, social media, have become a paradox of what is really wrong in our society today.

The need to carve the perfect image for social media, the pleas for help, the medium in which young children can vulnerably subject themselves to these threats; that never existed during my years of being an adolescent. From a young age, they have it ingrained in them that they need to look a certain part- fair, light-haired, sharp features, thin. Everything being so instant and constant-Twitter, Instagram, Snapshot.

Pecs , muscles and working- out have become de rigueur lingo for these modern adolescents.

They have so much yet can take so little. With all the excesses, the fragility within seems to have gone on overdrive.

The irony.

Admittedly, on the cusp of turning 42, I’m still not too keen about my seemingly permanent dark eye circles but I know that my slight mummy tummy is a testimony and a souvenir from having given birth naturally to three healthy, delightful, mindful children who I am fiercely and fearlessly protecting from the excesses of self- loathing, self -harm and depression.

I’m blessed that my husband thinks my chicken legs are sexy and that he loves my face, freckles, crooked teeth and all. Even my small boobs, spots of grey hair and all.

So, mothers, love your bodies so your daughters and sons will love them too. We are so guilty of sometimes proclaiming that we feel bloated or fat or have a bad hair day, and surely we are entitled to that, we think, but think of your child, your mentee, your niece, your charge, all listening to those words of self- doubt which may turn into little seeds of self- loathing or a pattern for life-long self-criticism.

We all want happy, healthy, mindful children and we hope we are raising them right. So every day, my kids know that they are lovely, thoughtful, generous, gentle, strong, loving, appreciative, helpful, genuine and kind instead of beautiful, pretty, stunning, slim, or handsome( though my little prince is a self-professed praise junkie).

And oh yes, they have survived many stereotypical situations to do with self-image:

My eldest girl has been classed too black to be Chinese by sales-women in Hong Kong and in KL.

( I tell them I had several husbands, or sometimes I tell them we have Hawaiian blood),

My second daughter gets told she has very Asian eyes and could be Japanese( well did I tell you about the dalliance our fore -mother had with the Emperor?)

Our son gets told he’s very good looking all the time.

( I just tell him not to let it get into his head and no conceit is allowed!)

As for staying fit and healthy, though they are aware of their mum cutting down carbs at dinner time, our family has a fond, fundamental and familial love for cooking and food that they know that not eating is not an option and keeping healthy is. We love it that our three children have healthy, happy appetites and are game for all kinds of cuisine.

Oh, how did we survive body image issues in the 80s? I guess we did survive it all through the heck and lack of it all.

We were lucky not to have the internet. The threatening evil portal where you can be made to feel inadequate, small and ugly. The TV shows of the time did not make me want to do crazy things to myself. I wanted to shoot JR like everyone else, but not myself.

Debbie Gibson and Tiffany just made me want to be wholesome and good.

Unless you are always and constantly keeping your teens in check and that they are lucky enough to have healthy, encouraging peers, or have build a really warm and open relationship with them, it pays to check on the websites and chatrooms that they are on, on their laptops, on their smart phones and in their heads. It's also important to know their friends.

I say this an educator of many teens, and as a self-professed life coach to many students, who in fact gave me that title a few years ago, and as a mother to a teenager, a tween and a 6 year old.

It only takes a tiny nudge before any negative impact on self -body image can spiral completely out of control. Though we are lucky now to have access to psychologists and hospitals which can offer professional help to look after these issues, staying safe is better than sorry.

Love, love, love your children and pray that words like anorexia, bulimia, depression, self-harm and self-loathing are Greek words in your family’s diction.

Every family is different, I know.

Love thyself first and always, and always and forever, keep your children in your circle of faith, hope and love.

---R Dec 10 2013

Memoirs of a retinal detachment survivor: 4 months later

When I think of the multiple roles I play in my daily life (doting phonics expert mum, competitive sports mum, Shakespeare chatting/chiding mum to a pre-teen while keeping my temper in check, supportive spouse, CEO to my COO-darling husband, teacher, mentor, colleague, daughter, sister, friend, meal planner, house organizer, party planner, holiday organizer, soiree hostess,# yougetthepicture), I have had to, in the last 4 months add this new role to my resume- retinal detachment survivor.

It’s not an easy one. It’s seems rare but it happens. It’s not chronic and life-threatening; it’s not like a cancerous tumour. Yes, it’s your eye ; a very important organ, but you are expected to get on with your life and be thankful, grateful. I am. So full of gratitude. I am Bartimeas. I have been saved.

But I have had to concentrate on my new role because if I just ignore it, and say it has become me, then I might forget that I have been briefly in the darkness , reduced to counting fingers and seeing shadowy figures and back to light.

Since July 8 2012, I have had 5 operations on my eye( 4 on my right, 1 on my left) Three of them were laser ones(not LASIK, where one does it for vanity, or for practicality) but where the ophthalmologist shoots red light like “laser tags” your eye to seal your retina, to try to hold the delicate membrane together; it just beguiles and confounds me how this business of the retina works. Two of the operations were more delicate and invasive in nature. I really should have paid more attention in Biology lessons instead of writing haikus about bones! Also, I have had my eyes dilated so much that it really messes up your head!

But right now, in my new role as eye surgery survivor, I can tell you that the blooming retina is one heck of an important fabric of the human body! It decides on the amount of light that enters into your eye to determine your visual acuity. In fact, retinal specialists are really important medical experts- for they help you restore your vision using delicate microscopes and mini tools that you won’t probably touch in your lifetime. If they do a good job, you have a lot to be grateful for- whether it’s a retinopexy, a vitrectomy or a scleral buckle procedure.( I have had both the former.)

I am lucky( and I will say it again and again) that modern medical science has made me see again. 30 years ago, I probably wouldn’t have been this lucky.

One comic observation that has come out of this is that I have realised that it is a pre-requisite for ophthalmologists to really have nice ears, the amount of patients who have to stare at their ears all day!

There is a tiny halo left over from my post-silicone oil removal surgery that comes and sometimes goes. I have learned to live with it. It’s slightly smaller than a five cent coin and hopefully, my brain will train to see it like a parasite and will expel it. I will try to be positive and see it as a halo of God, rather than an irritant. Or an annoying oily glob leftover from the silicone oil tamponade used to buffer my retina back in place. I am technically middle aged-40- though of course my mind tells me I am really still 21. So presbyopia has started to set in. But imagine having to equilibrate your distinctly different eyes- one with a near 6/6 vision with an intra- ocular lens for long distance and the other, with a myopia of -700 which requires me wearing a contact lens on one eye. For reading, I now wear a pair of RM10 reading classes to help equilibrate both eyes, as fine eye work of telling the difference between a comma and a full-stop is really a daily occupational hazard.

Having been on eyes drops for about 3.5 months, from eye pressure drops to steroid ones to the much-despised dilation ones, I can tell you that it made me feel almost like a pill-popper. I was almost having withdrawal symptoms when I went off them! But gleefully so.

Sometimes, though rarely now, I wake up in nightmarish jolts just to check if I can see properly. I view people now as perfectly sighted or partially sighted or legally blind. I realize now that even if your sight is not 100%, life does go on. And you adjust. My partially blind foot masseuse( I have many conversations with my multiple masseuse- they are great conversationalists) taught me some humbling life lessons.

From him, I learned to slow down, close my eyes and be grateful. And just be.

That is all.

-R Nov 2012

Diary of a Wonky-Eyed Girl

17 Sept 2012

Possibly the most unglam photo of me online-just before my discharge from the American Hospital of Paris. But with my seeing eyes wide open and oh so happy!

It has been exactly two months since my delicate emergency eye operation in Paris. How fast does time fly? Some of my lady friends are still teasing me about being 'fancy', to end up in, of all cities, gay Paree, with a surgery. After the surgery, I still had about 6 weeks’ worth of holidays, half of which was spent mostly in Europe. I had three weeks left upon our return to KL which was spent with follow up check-ups with my KL doctor then a few relaxing days in Singapore with my second sister and a couple of precious nights in Phuket with my husband sans children. Despite the one long haul flight home and 6 short haul flights that I had undertaken since my surgery, I am all good.

My eye about 2.5 weeks after the surgery- in Amsterdam.

Apart from that I have been home, trying to do what I DON’T do best. Relax, rest and stay still. About 3 weeks ago, I went back to work, and though challenging, I am getting used to it by now though it involves a lot of fine eye work!

On a daily basis people, I have colleagues and students asking me about my eye. People are quite sweet and very genuine with their concerns. Some are quite direct, others, nosey. Like one day last week, the library girls asked me why one eye was smaller than the other. It’s so Malaysian and so in your face and I patiently explained to them the lazy eye syndrome as I am not using my right eye as much. They looked shocked & almost felt sorry for me! Or when an elderly church member exclaimed loudly, ‘Wah, your eyes are still red, ah, you poor thing! You must Lie Down, Lie Down!” or this other person who kept making MY eye problem HER issue! or they stare, and ask if I am in pain. I am not! I think next time, I’ll just keep my sunglasses on and spare people the awkwardness. But mostly & thankfully, people are kind and concerned.

About 4 weeks after my surgery, back home in KL.

So I thought I’d write a diary.

You know that endearing classic Van Morrison song, “Brown- eyed girl”? Now hubby sings that song to me except he has changed the lyrics to ‘you’re my WONKY eyed girl. It’s one of my all-time favourite songs, so I don’t mind. “Wonky”, my eye still is though my visual acuity(with silicone oil) is now about 6/12 or 6/15 on most check -ups. I had to go off my steroid drops because my ocular pressure shot up so now I am steroid free. However at the last check up, my opthalmologist has detected that I am starting to show signs of cataract. I wasn’t surprised as my dad had his cataracts done when he was only 38. I know cataract problems are usually linked to geriatrics. I am hardly one, YET, but my eyes apparently are. SO he will monitor it at my next retinal examination, and he may just FIX ME UP at my next surgery when he removes the silicone oil. And NO, I am NOT going back to Paris for the second surgery and to do a spot of shopping, ladies! Though it's very tempting!

Every day is still a blessing. I did not go blind. I am blessed. I can see! Medical science and amazing surgeons do exist and they are great.

I have heard of WORST cases of retinal detachments.

I have been lucky. Last week I stumbled upon a blog by a guy in Canada who had 4 successive retinal detachments on the same eye and finally, he had a similar eye operation as mine, but he kept going blind. He stopped updating his blog at the end of Sept 2009, so I shudder to think what would have happened to him. I only hope he’s fine.

My scary wonky eye look!

I have got used to relying on my untreated eye MORE which has become a habit, which is bad for my treated eye, so I had to change the prescription of my glasses temporarily to even out both eyes. Hey, bring it on, last week my GOOD eye came down with conjuntivitis, as though saying “GIVE ME A BREAK!” Sometimes I go without my contact lens on the untreated eye so I use my wonky eye so it doesn’t get lazy or smaller. I try to read with only my wonky eye only for at least 20 minutes a day. I also test my eye sight by closing one hand one each eye on a daily basis, sometimes a few times a day! :) At the back of my mind, I worry a little bit about my 'good' eye too. The French doctors have discovered that I have signs of lattice degeneration( where the periphercal retina becomes atrophic) on that eye. Laser thereapy has been recommended but my opthalmologist here says to leave it alone at the moment. Let the macula-off retinal detachment eye recover as much as it can first.

As I shared in my poem, I am VERY paranoid of floaters now- any spots, or flying mosquito or black dots in the distance can sometimes shake me to the core. At my morning hill walk today, I saw a bird in the distance, and thought it was a floater in my eye, that’s how scary it gets, sometimes. But mostly I am very calm. I am very conscious of my head position especially when lying down. I try not to look up at the ceiling AT ALL COSTS. I still sleep on my side, or on my front, very conscious of the viscousity of the oil in my eye. A couple of weeks ago, I made the mistake of looking up into the sky when taking a shower, and saw bits of floaters ABOVE the silicone oil level, and panicked. My dr here says it’s ok, it’s the oil that’s causing the instability inside my eye. It looks like we are going to have the silicone oil removal surgery on the first week of Oct. My KL surgeon is going to France for most of September and he shoots off to Italy for a congress in mid Oct and he wants be around from early Oct till mid Oct to monitor me in case there are any complications post-silicone oil removal.

Fingers crossed. SO my next surgery using local anaesthesia will most likely be on Oct 3.

In these 2 months, I have heard of 3 other people having retinal detachments over the summer. So I know I am not alone, one man is in his 50s, a lady in her 30s and a young man, just 22. So it’s not exactly an age thing. One guy I know can't play tennis anymore as he keeps missing the ball! Thank goodness I am not into contact sports.

I have gone back to most normal activities. I can drive easily but gently with one side of my contacts. I have resumed my weekend 12km hill walks by mostly looking down, and I stop myself from running on rough pavements. I haven’t started swimming again, at least with my head fully submerged in the pool. Because of the incisions in my eye, sometimes the redness flares up, especially now that I am off my steroid eye drops. I am not sure how chlorine will react to it but I am sure it will be ok.

The specialist eye centre that I go to in KL is always FULL of patients!

I still daren’t go for my monthly facial yet, lest the manipulations cause any redetachment. I can’t walk our big dog Sparky, as he’s huge and he might yank my eye off. Luckily, I don’t wear any eye make-up so that hasn’t been an issue at all. I have been taking more berries of all kinds- goji berries, blue berries, eye berries:)and been drinking copious amounts of fresh carrot juice. For whatever it’s worth, if they don't help my eyes, I am keeping my other internal organs healthy. It's funny that it takes something like this to force me to keep my head down, literally!

I miss, miss, miss CARRYING my 5 year old and swinging him about. He’s about 20kg and that’s the weight that I am not supposed to haul, at least not yet until I am a 100% sure I am ok. My greatest struggle really is to remember that I need to take it easy. But sometimes that's easier said than done.

My students, bless them, are used to seeing me teach in my shades as sometimes the glare from the sunlight outside or the florescent lighting in the classroom can be unsettling. There is no pain, but just a mild discomfort when the glare hits my eye. I can also feel that my cataract is setting in. Oh joy!

I still hate getting my eyes dilated every time I am at my eye clinic. The KL dilation drops seem to be so potent that I feel awful for hours on end- and can’t use my eyes to read for at least 6-7 hours afterwards. The nurse says it's because my iris is too small that they have to top up the dilation dose for me. The ones in Paris were fine after just a couple of hours. I am not comparing.

As for reading, it’s part and parcel of my occupational hazard so how do I cut down on that? I must know when to rest my eyes when they get tired.

In the meantime, being wonky-eyed has its perks- I get to wear my Chanel shades all the time, get cat-whistled, “Hey, Jackie O,” and my Year 7s think I am a dictionary with cool shades, and best of all, my other half has hired a personal driver to chauffeur me around. What more could a girl ask for?

I could SO get used to THIS! Wonky eyed tai-tai!

And please don’t laugh at my eye pictures here- they were a personal photo journal to track the progress of my healing!

I am keeping everything crossed & praying that Oct 3/4 will be a success!

Till then, c'est la vie!

A bit of wonky-eyed glamour!

R- Sept 17 2012

Confessions of a "granny" blogger!

OR WHY I WILL NOT END MY SENTENCES WITH WTF!

My (ten years junior to me) baby sister, whose opinions I regard highly, has said that my blogs are too long. She was trying to get me to add ads into my blog and use more photos. Apparently, people who have nuffnang-endorsed blogs are the successful bloggers. I clearly am not. I have a grand total of 14 followers, many of whom are close friends and some sweet students whom I have bribed. I am hardly a serial blogger. Though I love writing, I hardly have time to update my blog posts especially during term time when I am juggling with planning, teaching and marking on top of the kids and our hectic social life and other side secret projects that I seem to get myself embroiled in. And I write in long form.

So I went into these so called popular blogs that she told me about. The ones that NETizens on Blogosphere are raving about. And it’s confirmed, I am definitely OLD(er). And I can’t bear the acronyms that they use, or the poor grammar that sometimes comes along with it. And the incessant camwhoring! ( but that’s another blogpost altogether!) I blame it on politics which has destroyed our education system and has annihilated a whole generation of potentially strong writers in Malaysia. C’mon, we have been a British colony until 1957. In 55 years, we have managed to lose potentially the most important legacy that colonialisation (sometimes) bring- a strong education system- and with it, a nation of competent, if not fluent speakers and writers of the world’s most important language (no, it’s still English, not quite Chinese , yet). And I don’t think adding wtf at the end of a sentence is cool, or right, at all. Perhaps it’s because I am a product of an all-girls school that was started by very proper Catholic French and Irish nuns. Perhaps, I am an ole grandma when it comes to writing conventions. Or as my hubby often says about me, you are an old soul.

I am human. Of course, I cuss, but if I am going to add wtf at the end of every sentence, I might as well slash my wrists. That’s not blogging. That’s writing poorly, in bad English. (That’s a redundancy). I may THINK WTF in my head, sometimes,( or all the time if my thyroid is on overdrive), but I don’t need to put it at the end of a sentence.

Which comes back to my main point, I am NEVER going to get thousands of followers for my blog, because I sound, old, archaic and wordy. And I use real humour, irony, sarcasm, hyberbole, persuasion and rhetoric, which I guess can be summed up with one acronym- WTF- by the generation Y bloggers. It’s almost a professional hazard: being a teacher.linguist.grammarian.writer.editor.critic type person that I am, which finds me English knickers knotted in this manner. I admit, I even cringe when the Jesuit padre in church makes subject-verb agreement errors in his sermon, and I am in church, for God’s sake.(no pun intended). But I do calm down after a vigorous prayer session, and ACCEPT and understand that many EAL English learners of the world do struggle with English, particularly of the written form; if it is their second or additional language, hence they will not write or speak in that fluency that is required of a first language speaker. I still blame it on the education system.

Often, I get asked, how are you an English teacher, Miss. You don’t have an accent. Aren’t you Chinese? Aren’t you Malaysian? Being stereotyped and sussed out at the same time. I tell them, my dear students that I am a citizen of the world, and as long as I dream, and cuss in English, it’s my first language. Never mind that it’s the only language that I really feel comfortable ranting in or grew up writing the most in.

So, back to my long-winded blog- I think it’s the age thing, but I am also a very detailed person. I process things chronologically, and I pay attention to detail in everything. Hence I can arrive at a 5000 word blog entry (worthy of one chapter in a Master’s dissertation without the citations) in an hour if I set my mind to it, and this is excluding all the wtfs that I have omitted! Perhaps I should go for a course in concision, precis and "less is more".

So, dearest sister, I am definitely a confirmed Generation X. I think , if I I may say so myself, a pretty cool one too, considering that I own a blog, know how to run it, have facebook, ( but stops at twitting), is on instagram and now use google+ and googledocs and use email daily. I also teach a large number of very young people on a yearly basis, and from them, I have struggled to get the point across that if you do not know your parts of speech, your articles and prepositions and your clauses and what not, FIRST, before anything else, there is little point in going WTF, BRB, LOL or NP with me. As for people of the younger generations whose blogs get all the followers and hits like crazy because they use wtf at the end of every sentence, I am sorry, I shall be happy with my 14 followers and odd and rare comments or limited likes.

I am NOT from generation Y or Z and proud of it! Now excuse me, as I GTG and LMFAO cause YOLO!

R- Sept 2012

New Year's Eve 2010

New Year’s eve 2010

The day finally caught up with me. New Year’s eve. What a year! Another hectic one, not one without struggles, tribulations and sheer hard work but plenty of blessings but let me start by remembering two very, very special angels who are in Heaven, watching us all. Let me say a huge prayer for little Xuan Xuan and baby Joy who are both in the arms of the Lord. May they rest well and be at peace knowing how much they are truly loved and missed by their loved ones. May God Bless them always.

Actually, a friend’s FB update( Thanks, T) yesterday prompted me to think about the year that has been. Her FB status said something like: 3 best things she has done for herself in 2010? So she listed three things- all of which I was envious about- running, personal trainer, LASIK- stuff to sooth the image, stuff that makes one look good but also feel healthy. Great stuff for the soul! Lucky girl! Looking fine, too!

As someone who grapples with time, one of my chief resolutions in 2011 is to MAKE time for fitness. I may be blessed with a smallish frame, but I don’t think I am very fit at all and as middle age bulge is somewhat catching up, especially for someone who loves food, I resolve to get fitter in 2011. So running/hill walks, finding a private sacred time for yoga, quiet time for poetry, those are my main aims for 2011. A little selfish I know. But if I am not happy, I wouldn’t be good for M, S, I or T or anyone else. So fitness it is! So these resolutions are very important.

To quote a wise sage:

"It's not whether you have or do not have but how you deal with it, and that's the secret to happiness." ~ Tsem Tulku


As I ruminated on 2010, I listed the three best things I have done in 2010 :
1. Help Martin found Ambrosia & Nectar- now our family business
2. Started my own (very inactive) blog?
3. Doing the crazy bungy jump though just a few days before I did it, the thought never ever crossed my mind?

Are these 3 things the best things I did in 2010? Or should I have listed down, being a dependable wife, being a crazy, multi-tasking but always present mother, or being a good friend? But should it have been? Did I do enough for mankind? Have I made time and space for God?

Should I be travelling less and hosting less soirees? (But one of the best things too was doing a couple of girly holidays on my own which saw me coming home more refreshed and yelling less at the kids? )

But this morning, one of my main thoughts is, am I making more time to reflect and pray and just chat to Him a bit more, not just when I need Him?

This should be more important for we are no island and we function within a flimsy thread of humanity and if one tiny cord breaks, the fragility of us all will surface and show so we hang on, holding each other up constantly, through prayers, through thoughts, through kind acts or a kind, sincere word, we cling on to each other; however independent we are or claim to be, we cannot survive on our own without love, without hope, without kindness and goodness. Without a good dose of Chinese cooling tea!

So, if I could delete my best 3 three things of 2010, I would re-comment that
1. I have loved, 2. I have kept on praying, and 3. I am just grateful to be.

Happy 2011!

Love,
R