In life, I've had to make very tough choices far too many times.
I began young enough.
As a minor, I made an adult decision to marry the man who was the father of my unborn child.
I remember asking my very regimental Dad to take a walk with me in the garden to have a chat. It was only the first week that I was back for summer holiday, and my Dad was thrilled to have me home. Right by our pool, I looked him in the eye, told him I was pregnant, and that I had decided to be a wife and a mother - all in a single sentence.
Then I waited to be slapped or thrown into the pool. I fully expected him to disown me, and if he did, I wouldn't have blamed him. I was really a handful.
But my Dad loved me way more than I gave him credit for. He flew to HK with my mum to meet the in-laws and to plan for the wedding.
He was truly happy for me.
Little did he know that being a wife and a mother were the last things I wanted.
Unlike most girls, I grew up wanting what men want: career, power, fast cars, and a private jet. I've never had fantasies of a fairy tale wedding; I didn't believe in love in the first place. I believed in good clean fun, and nil baggage.
But I chose to keep the child, and I must be married so he could grow up in a normal home.
Little did I know that the man I married was not ready to be a father. Didn't matter that he was years older than me.
I had a difficult pregnancy. Then I fell really ill and refused to eat and drink for a week. I remember laying in bed all ready to quit life. My then husband never came home once. I had no idea where he went, and I never asked. His mother, a really wonderful lady I still call "mum" today, nursed me.
When it got to the point that I wasn't responding at all, she called my Dad, who flew in immediately and carried me home.
By the time that summer was over, the baby was gone, and I had returned to Edmonton to start my first year at the U of A. My then husband was also back, and we moved into the house that my Dad had bought.
A year later, I was pregnant again.
Yes, I was very fertile.
Damn those no-good condoms!
This time, my Dad sent my mother over to make sure that I would have a smooth pregnancy.
Little did he know that my mother didn't love me half as much as he did.
She hated having to leave her friends, her social life, her parties, for me, and she had no qualms about letting me know how much of a burden I had been to her. She would complain all day long, and pick on people and things, including the snow.
Fortunately, for me, she quickly made new friends (my mother's department), and started going out. That was when I finally got the peace and quiet I so desperately needed.
Shortly before the baby was due to arrive, something happened that gave her a reason to go home.
Gulf war happened.
She was afraid that she was going to be separated from my Dad and Seabloke and Pilot for God knows how many years should Canada get involved.
I know, I was equally baffled, and amused - actually, more amused than baffled.
But I was glad she found herself a good excuse to go home. I wanted her to go home ,and leave me alone. I was already having a very tough time - preparing for exams and being so sick most of the time (my doctor was so worried about my condition I frequently had to go in for check ups and blood tests) - so I really could use some PEACE.
I had a difficult time at delivery. They couldn't get the baby out, and I refused to scream or use epidural. I was totally drenched in my own persperation and losing a lot of fluid and my blood pressure got dangerously low.
My girl decided to pop her tiny head out only 24 hours later. I was so glad my ordeal would soon be over I used every remaining ounce of strength I had to give one last mighty push, and out she flew, like a missile, right into the palms of an alert nurse, just a second before she hit the concrete floor, (the doctor, totally expecting the usual time it takes for the entire body to emerge, had turned to grab something).
It was 1991, and I was barely 19.
A week later, I went ahead to sit for my exams, against the advice of many, coz I wasn't healing properly.
3 weeks later, my then mother-in-law came to take my girl back to her Dad's home in HK. I didn't object to it, coz I knew her life would be 1000 times better there. They had a big bungalow house, and many adults to watch over her, and cousins to play with.
Another 3 weeks later, I moved out of the place that I was living with my then husband.
We never discussed our breakup, and remained friends.
A few months later, he flew back home for good.
I started my new life, with someone I really liked this time.
A year later, Dad died.
I went crazy, and drove the man I loved crazy too, and he did something so horrible to me I decided to walk out.
He told me that I had nothing, and that I needed him.
I said I would survive.
At the same time, my mother demanded that I drop out of school and head home, coz she had no intention to send me money. She figured that since it was illegal for me to work, I would have no choice but to go home to be her puppet.
I told her I would graduate, and I would find my way, and that I didn't need her blessing.
That was the last time we spoke. The next time we talked again would be 5 years later.
She never once asked how I pulled through.
Until recently, she would insist that she's been a terrific mother. I would never argue with her on that. I always know when to save my breath.
When I returned home, she suggested that I "retrieve" my child from my in-laws.
I was appalled.
She saw how my sister-in-law gave up her own marriage to raise my child as her own - I couldn't believe that she actually thought by virtue of my having gone through the labour pain and the trouble of carrying my child for 9 months that I had earned the right to take her back. She actually thought it was good timing since my child was old enough to not be too much of a burden to me.
It was at that precise moment that I made up my mind to initiate divorce proceeding - I had sat on it for 6 years coz I didn't want to lose my child. It was when I looked into my own mother's eyes that I realized where those selfish genes came from. There and then I made up my mind to let go.
Sea would always comment on how deceiving my very soft exterior is. She's right. Many had experienced first hand how hard my heart can be. It has to be, coz I understand and fully accept the reality of life - it's impossible to make everyone happy.
When in doubt as to who to make happy, I check my heart.
It never lies, and doesn't rationalize. He's way bigger and a gazillion times wiser than me, and I would never fight Him.
Post-Fed day. I should have known better.
A day that I could read my chart with relative ease - familiar setups, familiar candle lines and patterns, some of which I traded, others I passed (I'm still needing a fair amount of time to check for traps and track the big picture between trades)
(Wallpaper on my handphone - tickles me every time I look at it)
I have to say, I much prefer to go in with 5 contracts and get out with 5 contracts.
5 entries (indicated by black triple arrows) - all LONG.
I'm proud of myself.
Quick post (officially still on blogging break) for D's sake.
Done for the day.
Again, another day of failing to pull the trigger too many times before I realized I was being ridiculously foolish.
Highlighted in blue are trades I took. Highlighted in yellow are signals that I had indicated a "go" on my notebook which I didn't take. These will be printed and pinned right next to my screen where I can see them whenever I'm seated at my workstation. My desire to trade was near zero today and I had to push myself like I've never done before. Bizarre.
Highlighted in blue was where I had entered long. Thought I'll hold it beyond ticks this time, so I went in with 2 contracts. Refused to let go at 6 ticks even when tape was telling me to not stretch it.