Author Archives: hafong

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About hafong

Hello! My name is (Leung) Hafong alias Lily Leung. You always say the last name first….that is the Chinese way. That is my partner lurking behind me. Since this is my blog, I won’t mention his name. But this is a rather cool picture. You see me and yet you don’t…sort of the way I feel about myself most of my life. So this blog is a self-exploration, an archeology dig of some sort. My tools…..words of a thousand or so at a sitting. I will try for that.

I’M SORRY

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It’s not a warm morning. It snowed somewhere in our fair province. The bedding plants will stay on the diningroom table today. They were shivering out on the deck yesterday. No point in challenging the weather. I will be content huddling inside with hot drinks and the fur baby. I did get a good night’s sleep but I’m still edgy and cranky. Trying to tap. it. out. Breathing. slowly. and. deliberately. I snapped at one of those phone people calling again about services for my computer. “I don’t have one!” It cuts the call short.

It’s not the way I want to be – talking and behaving badly. I come to this space to do it. It’s contained and stays on the page. How others view my words and actions are no business of mine. I will not see their facial expressions nor their body language. Of course they can always make a comment but I have the power of deleting if I don’t like it. In real life, vis-à-vis, I can’t do that. It’s most difficult to even get a I’m sorry. Only Brenda Lee  is good at saying/singing it.

It is now evening. A whole day almost gone. The rain has smoothed my edges. I’m feeling mellow yellow. I haven’t been smoking or drinking yet either. It was probably from walking with Sheba in the rain. It could put dampers on nervous energy. For every problem there is a solution. You need to have the faith. It’s not easy. I know it from experience. If you keep plugging away with due diligence, you will get results.

 

2 EGGS, 3 STRIPS OF BACON, 2 SLICES OF TOAST, HASH BROWNS AND A COFFEE

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It happens. I’ve had a couple of not so good sleep nights. I suffer for it. I really do. I notice it all the more now that I’m a recovered sleeping person. But like all recovered/recovering people, I fall off the wagon occasionally. The good thing is that I haven’t resorted to all my previous coping methods or behaviour – much. I haven’t fallen back into the teapot, staying with my 2 cuppa day limit. I was tempted. You know that feeling, groping towards comfort drinks and food. I was tempted to head out to A&W for that promise of an awesome breakfast yesterday. 2 eggs, 3 strips of bacon, 2 slices of toast, a hash brown and a small coffee for only $4.99!

As luck would have it, that coupon had expired the previous day.  To do myself proud I had already nixed the idea before I realized that. I have worked hard all winter learning how to break the habit of myself. Apparently Dr. Joe Dispenza knows his stuff. His method is working for me. For sure I am struggling a bit alot. It shows that I’m not caving into my previous habitual self. No pain, no gain as they say. I’m accepting my flaws. I’m embracing my humanity.

I must admit that I have a bit of the blues, not the curled-up-in-a-ball, down and out kind of depression. I’ve never had that kind. I’ve always struggled up. I’m an irksome, annoying kind of Chinese chick. I keep getting up and wanting to improve on things. I think I’m good enough now. I’m working on things. Finally most of university and nursing textbooks are recycled. I’ve kept the one for my class on the Philosophy of Religion. The class and the professor were privotal in my young life. He could see that I was troubled and floundering. He cancelled a scheduled class to spend the hour with me.

“The class today is cancelled. Miss Leung, may I see you in my office?” He announced. I can still hear the shuffle of feet and gathering of books as my classmates rose from their desk. They cast glances at me on their way out. I wonder what she did, their expressions queried. I followed my professor to his office. The memory is more precious to me now than at the time. It is only in the present I recognized how valuable that hour was. I’m not feeling at all insignificant but valued. Even though my mentor, Caroline Myss says nobody is special, I’m feeling special.

It’s a cool day. It’s almost 2 pm and only 11 degrees Celsius. I’m not feeling overly ambitious but I’m still piddling steadily along. Like the FlyLady says, I’m not behind. I’m starting where I am. Though I didn’t feel like it, I’ve put all my bedding plants out again on the deck. They’ll toughen up and get sturdier for their permanent transplant in the beds later. I’ve cleared off another small area in the basement, organized my sewing stuff, collapsed and folded up the table. I’m finishing my thoughts here and taking the last sips of my Rooibos tea. Yup, going herbal and organic. Now to tend to the lunch dishes.

TALKING BADLY TUESDAY

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Oh, to be human can cause us such miseries. It’s how I experience life. I have to remember that I am talking for myself only. To punish myself and feel worse, I judge myself for my humanity. That is part of being human, too. So pardon me for speaking out, breaking the taboo of airing my dirty laundry. I’m not British. I don’t have that stiff upper lip. The thing is, I’m Chinese. We like to ‘save face.’ We don’t talk about ‘private matters’. At least my mother and her generation doesn’t. I am not made of sterner nor noble stuff like that. I am unable to harbour all this ‘stuff’ inside. It’s toxic to my soul. I have to vent.

Brene Brown has done much important work on human connections. Her TED Talk on the power of vulnerability is powerful. I was quite blown away when I first watched it. I had hoped that it would strike a chord within all of us to open up, be vulnerable and share. I don’t think I have that problem. My problem could be the opposite. Maybe I shared too much. I was so busy doing that I had no time, or maybe it was I never gave other people an opportunity to do their sharing. I found myself quite taken back later, like years, that I had been in the dark – without a match, without a clue.

You can imagine the hurt I felt. I spilt my gut, my innards bleeding on the sidewalk but you/they kept mum. My mother would have found that admirable. But I can only talk it out -badly. Isn’t it what they all tell you to do? Get it out! Hash it out! Not too many people I know do though. Are you surprised? I’m not. I’ve learned it from experience. Am I disappointed? No. That’s how we are. Well, it’s not really how I am but I am learning to be that way. I’ll let you know if it is a better way. You know what they say. The less said, the better.

WRITING BADLY AND OTHER INADEQUACIES

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I have a million things to do but here I sit, tapping listlessly. It’s 26 degrees Celsius outside. Too hot to take the fur ball for her walk and too late to go to the river. Guess we will wait till it the sun goes down a bit. It’s good day for the solar panels. Making electricity while the sun shines.

I feel a tad melancholy. No worries though. It’s not as bad as my writing. I do have some good news. I had a dental appointment this morning. Teeth cleaned and buffed. No cavities! I’ve set up lawn mowing service for my parents for the summer. Their insurance claim for house damages from last summer’s hail storm dealt with. Contractors to do repairs set up. It does help to solve problems as they come up and do follow ups. Less build up of stress. Today I can afford to mope – but not for long.

Things/life never let up. I know that now. I cannot get blindsided. I know how things go. What goes up must come down. That is gravitas/gravity. I wish I could be less grave, be more light-hearted. But I seem to dwell in the valley of seriousness. I hate frivolity. I can’t even imagine being jocular. Can I blame it on my childhood? What if I told you that my paternal grandmother was a very grumpy person. She didn’t like girls. Good thing she had 3 sons and no daughters. I think she nattered at me alot when I was small. My father was/is a grumpy person also. I’ve heard the story of how he tossed me out on the steps in one of his moods. I was 2 years old. So I got my grumpiness quite honestly – through my genetics. Does that get me off the hook?

Then there’s my maternal grandparents. They literally had to run for their lives – from the Communists. My grandfather got away to Hong Kong. So they put my grandmother in jail instead. It’s a story I’ve told before. Both of them have passed now but they had a few good years reunited with their children, including my mother, in New York City. Their story is in our marrow forever. We are a very serious family.

That is not to say that I/we don’t experience joy. Just don’t expect me to be gleeful in an exuberant manner. I always feel guilty and lacking for not being ‘that’. At the same time, I am not full of gloom and doom. Though I might sometimes sound like I’m apt to leap off a cliff, I am not ‘that’ either. I think it’s not the writer’s feelings the reader is interpreting but rather his or her own. I am a hopeful person mostly. That surprises me, too!

 

BEST TIMES FOR EVERYTHING

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Needless to say I haven’t found the cure to my after lunch blues. Maybe it is just a part of my daily physical biorhythm. I should not fight against myself. This is the perfect time for me to be here. I can sit, tap, muse and bitch about life in general. I’ve trained myself enough to clean up and do the dishes though it feels like torture. Now the bread is baking in the oven. I had thought about putting the whole bowl of dough in the oven without dividing into loaves. But my somewhat rational brain said: DON’T! I listened.

Perhaps I should chart my daily energy and mood for a month to see where the peaks and dips occur. I could coordinate activities accordingly. There’s a science to this. Everybody has their opinion. I think I want to do my own research since people’s chemistry vary. I sure don’t feel like going to the gym at 6 pm. Right now, I feel like a nap. It’s 2:17 pm. I’m tapping furiously to stay awake. The bread is still in the oven.

What I know for sure is I feel the best in the morning. After lunch it is all downhill. I have no ambition nor drive after supper. It leaves a very small window for a slow poke like me to get anything done. I want to nap so bad. I wish that bread would hurry up!

ON THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD

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Sometimes ill winds blow even on sunny days. There is nothing I can do. I have learned over time to stand/sit tall and let them blow over me. I try to emulate Patience and Fortitude, the lions in front of the New York Public Library. I must with patience and fortitude retain the core of myself through all kinds of weather – sunshine or rain. Whatever comes my way, I’m ready. Bring it on! Amazing the power of words and self-talk! I love Mary Sarton’s words, her self talk.

“Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”

It is hard for me to let go. I tend to hang on with tooth and nail. My grip is loosening with age. The truth is I’ve worn my nails to the quick. Sometimes there is no choice but to let go. I have to confess I have lost some parts of myself on this life journey. I’m walking my own Camino Road to retrieve them. I’m much like Dorothy and her companions going down the Yellow Brick Road. The Scarecrow searching for a brain, the Tin Man a heart and the Lion courage. I’m searching for all three. There is happy ending for Dorothy and her friends. I believe there is one for me, too, though I wouldn’t call it ‘ending’.

I much prefer beginnings. I like the idea of waking every morning to a new day and another crack at things. I get to re-program myself. I would delete the stuff that didn’t work and try something new and different. Who wants to wake up to the same old, same old like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day? No one but I have been without knowing it. I’m grateful to my ‘bad’ days. They tell me that I’m not having such a good time and things are not ticking along. My ducks are all out of alignment. It’s time to take a different path or pull over and take a rest.

Maybe, just maybe, I have all the stuff I’m looking for. Maybe I should search within myself. I could have been barking up the wrong tree, going down the wrong garden path all this time. Gee whiz, why don’t I watch where I am going?

 

COMING TO MY SENSES

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The only one who likes change is a wet baby. – Mark Twain

Another witty truism! Wish it was coined by me. Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn are well known to me but I can’t say that I’ve read the books in entirety, only excerpts. I wonder why that is. I wonder why we dislike change so much. It feels like a nail scratching a chalk board. Ugh!

I’m understanding and doing better with change after reading Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself. I try not to fall back into the pit of being comfortable rather than change for the better. I’ve deduced that anything unfamiliar brings out the uncomfortable feeling of ugh! Let me out of here and even back to what doesn’t work anymore. At least I know how that feels. It’s not unchartered waters. It sounds crazy but that’s how my lazy brain works.

Sometimes I have to grit and bare my teeth but I am putting up with the ugh! I let it ripple through and out my body. There, it wasn’t so bad after all. Just a dose of adrenaline jolting me out of my comfort induced stupor. Next time it will be just a minor buzz. I’m feeling a pleasant buzz from my apres supper wine. It has been a wonderful day with good creative results. I am not so secretly pleased. Sometimes I want to let the world know that.

 

HOW I SPEND MY DAYS

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How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. – Annie Dillard

I wish I could write such insights as Annie Dillard. But then I’m not a Pulitizer winning authour. She has written many books. I wonder why I haven’t read any of them, especially since so many of them are in the library. I’ve just fixed that, reserving The Writing Life. I thought I should start with just one book. I’m still working on James Mitchener’s The Source. It’s an ambitious read of 1000 pages. I’m only on  page 207. I have a ways to go.

How do you spend your days? I’ve wondered what other people do with their time. I’m always busy it seems. I’m a doddler, poking away at life. Maybe if I speed up a little, I wouldn’t feel so busy. But it’s who and how I am. I need that slow pace to digest and process. So I can’t get up in the morning and hop to it. I have to ease my way with a cuppa tea and a few pages of fiction. Then it’s breakfast. If it is Monday, Wednesday,or Friday I’ll be heading out the door to aerobics. Saturday mornings I used to swim. Then somehow I got tired of always heading out of the door and I stopped. But I kept it up most of the winter.

I’m a homebody so I was glad to read that Annie Dillard is a recluse, albeit a gregarious one. I wish I’m like that but alas, I have no gregariousness in me. It should be no surprise that I don’t do a lot of frollicking with my days. I’m a rather quiet, somber person. I live within rather than without. That is, I contemplate alot. I like to read and muse. I wonder about the universe, why people do what they do. I wonder about the speed of the changes we are experiencing. How long life as we know will last? I wonder what gives meaning to the things we do. What does it matter anyways? I could have more time if I could just cut down all this musing.

You see, I am no fun. I do have fun though. I have numerous, maybe too many hobbies. I like to read and write. That gobbles up tons of minutes and hours in a day if I let it. Even painting my little index cards takes up at least half an hour. More if I’m ambitious. I’ve picked up sewing again. I went out and bought a fancy dancy new machine. It’s no small endeavour. It took time to learn all the ins and outs. Then there’s the organizing – fabric, patterns, projects. I’ve taken a fancy to free motion sewing, creating a picture with stitching. I haven’t thought about quilting yet. I have all the notions – collected through the years. At least I don’t have to go out and shop for material. I have a fabric shop right in my own basement.

I’m tapping here in my space. I’ve just turned the oven on for the roast. There’s a lot to do every day. Roasts to put in the oven, bread to make, lunches and dishes to do. The guy does supper and getting groceries. I start my own bedding plants for the garden. Been doing that for years now. Sometimes I enjoy. Sometimes it’s work. Well, isn’t everything? It’s worth it. It’s nourishing my body and soul. Even the cleaning and washing. It’s taking care of this business of living. What meaning or satisfaction would I get not doing any of this? Sure, I complain sometimes and wish that everything was taken care of for me. That sounds like being in a nursing home, doesn’t it?

It’s time to shut up and do something else now. There’s the dog to walk yet.

 

 

 

AFTER LUNCH BLUES

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So here it is that after lunch blues time again. I’ve put the dishes in the sink. Pots are soaking. I took time out to make that dental appointment finally. Ugh! I have an aversion to making and going to all kinds of appointments. I’m always in the flux of dismay. I should just get over it. Make the appointment. Go to it. Stop fretting. Stop talking about it. I’ve dug out a few more old nursing textbooks for the recycling bin. My top shelf is almost empty! There is light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe there is a Santa Claus, Virginia.

I’m enjoying my second cup of tea for the day. I’m sipping and tapping away the blues. For every little thing done, I feel just a little better. It is more than good enough. Too much would be overwhelming but I can taste and savour a tiny bit of joy. I will remember it and draw it out in moments on cloudy rainy days. It will be that sunbeam lighting up an idea, a dark corner or whatever that needs brightening.

The dog and I are walked. It has warmed up to 11 degrees C. With the sun out, we and the bedding plants can stop shivering. It will go down to -1 degrees tonight. The plants will have to be brought inside again. That’s how it is with our Canadian climate. At least there’s no snow in the forecast.

It’s 5:30. I’m enjoying my decaf, toast and jam. It won’t spoil my supper. I’ve worked hard, cleaning the oven and racks. It’s one of those jobs you want to turn a blind eye to. I have but today was finally the day. I set my mind to it. It was a lot of muscle and elbow grease. There was no way around it. And those damn racks. If there’s an easy way, please let me know. I don’t like using the self cleaning function. I’m afraid of leaving it on at 900 degrees F for 4 hours. Eeek! It’s like having a bomb in the kitchen. I would be a sitting duck when it explodes.

Ok, so much for the drama. Time to wrap it up. Another day and another month done. Be back next month.

 

SUNBEAM ON A SPECK OF DUST

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Sunday morning. The sun is coming through a smoke filled sky. Grass fires were burning outside the city yesterday. I hope they are under control. I guess we are into the brush fire season. I am stiff and sore from my efforts cleaning the deck yesterday. I have this urge to sit and lounge. I don’t but I am not in a rush. I am my usual slow motion self. Slow and steady can work miracles. I suprise myself at how much can be done. It encourages me to carry on with what brings results.

Sometimes I have to work harder to stay with it. The urge to revert to the old and familiar is strong. I try to do my morning and evening stretches to limber up and down. Mornings are easier. Evenings are not, now that the urgent need of pain relief is gone. How quickly we forget pain once relieved. Perhaps I need to change up to a late afternoon stretch instead. By evening I am quite happy to be just a couch potato. Timing can make or break a habit.

Can you believe it? I am already getting sleepy. It is not yet 10 am. Time to stand up, stretch my legs, make my decaf and maybe do my index card art. A change of posture is what is needed at this moment. See you later.

It is after lunch. The dishes are dealt with. I can’t say that I’m more wakeful. The sky is still grey. Sheba is curled up on her bed. I feel the pull towards it myself. I’m sounding like a bore, droning on and on about the same stuff daily. Sorry! But this is my sounding board, my to-do list and my decompressing room. It’s my think tank. I’ve met some awesome fellow bloggers through this room.

Today I’m reading Julie Yip Williams’ chemo experience. She has passed away in March/18. No, it is not depressing but rather enlightening and inspiring. It is learning about life. Dying is part of it. We can learn and gain much from those who went before us. Another brave journey I have followed is Stage iv. I’m not obsessed with death. Just getting serious about living and comfortable that nothing is forever. Maybe it is the nurse in me, the one who have seen death many times. Even after all that, I have not really understood that part of living. Now I am getting acquainted. It makes life all the more sweeter as they say. All those every day small moments are as precious as a sunbeam on a speck of dust. Can you see it?