Why I go back to Him

Because of my mother. My mom is the person who is always been there since day one. When all the people you believed you can trust turn into a bunch of hypocrites and leave you astray in the dark, she is the only one who'd rather make me a cup of tea than a cup of tiresome caffeine for herself. Recently, I got my illness back due to peer pressure I had to bear—notable thanks to college for that. I went to start seeing a doctor a year ago. Laid in my bed, vomitted out of nowhere, just right two hours to my birthday. I remember having someone wiping my face off with a warm handkerchief. It was none other my mom.

Long story short—as I don't want to cry while typing this post, my mom apparently asked me to go back to Him. She said she's scared of losing me, scared of something bad might happen, scared of time will not save both of us and this family. Of course I did really want to cry at that time but I joked it away. Completely laughed it off, "don't worry, mom. I will even pray for ten times a day!" Some things haven't been going well at the college with me lately. Yes, it's not about the academic stuffs. I do have fear while committing my effort on it but it's not as big as the worries I have in my circle of social environment. Some certain people have disappointed me. To put it simply, I trusted them, but all I got in return was bitterness. I used to think I could spend my college years with them. Now it has gotten to rot and dust. I told my mom about it—for the first time I opened up about my social issues—and she told me something along like, "You should leave them. You don't deserve people like them." Before making assumption about this, let me deliver an interesting fact about my mom; she never told me something like that before no matter how bad the problem I'm facing off. She'd usually tell me that maybe it's my fault or it's not a thing that is necessary to be thought about. So, I could make a conclusion that this time is real shit. My mom finally understood and wanted what is best for me. Once, when I got home, my mom greeted me with a hug and told me she cooked my favourite food. I was a little bit bewildered because this kind of thing never exactly considered to happen before. "What is it, mom? It's rare to see you like this." "Ah, nothing. I just thought that you deserve the happiness you were supposed to get."

God damn it, I love my mom so much I regret of every moments I yelled at her! The next week, I got through unimaginable hellish. The only remedy I could pull into was remembering where my home is. If I could express my feelings these past few weeks, I am going to say that I feel upset. I feel disgusted of these people who broke my trust. My wicked side would swear that I wish they would drive off the road and break some of their bones. My fine side would swear that they experience karma. I'm not a good person everyone wish themselves to be. At least, I have tried to be honest. My favourite line from my mom's lecture would be, "Shrug them off. Focus on yourself, focus on your growth." A growth is not always be that beautiful greeny sunflower getting showered by cute sky blue colored watering pot. Sometimes, it starts with undesirable affliction and hazy distress. Then, you get through of that storm and the gray cloud starts to disappear and all you are able to ponder is, "I know the storm won't last forever, after all." It makes me to think. I turned my back away from Him for too long. Good things happens MOST of time. Then, I started to think that maybe it was okay to 'take a break' from Him. But then again, when I remember my mom's touch and how my family believes in Him, I just want to thank Him for keeping my family in faith. Sometimes, the only thing that keeps my family going is that they believe in Him. Belief. Faith. Trust.

I have experienced many trust-breaking moments in my life up until this old. I thought maybe this time I could thank and appreciate Him again. I'm not your stereotypical easy believer. I'm one of those hardest devotee who likes to question the universe than "just believe in Him." I may not be one of your rebel that goes repent for Him. Just like how I did it back in my years of believing devotedly, I have my own way to believe in Him.

And that is to thank Him for keeping my mom safe and alive. Thank you.

State of Heart

Nowadays, I have spent some of my nights staying up to 3 a.m. wondering how does it feel to be in love. All of my friends have made it like a walk in the park. Met somebody, talked to them for a few months, and framed it official by the time they felt comfortable with each other. It's not rocket science I understand. To be frank, I want to experience things that way. I have always wanted to be that way at least once in my life! My ability to handle a relationship is like a can of worms. It's unnecessarily complicated. I have to talk with someone, pull-and-push them, and completely denying the fact that I *want* them to stay in my life. I feel like I'm a forest of muse that a distinct single soul would consider to cast off the woods. Every time me and the other person are already getting to the 'comfortable' zone, I tend to blow my own chill wind to give them false signals. I feel like I'm the one who ruins the house of cards. I would have blamed my unhealthy ball and chain. Once, I decided to ask my friends the how-to book on running a relationship in a more acceptable way. I followed everything by rules. I divined the manual. I failed. I found my self heartbroken at the end of the day. In all of my honesty, I have met 3 to 5 people that have a potential to build a romantic relationship with. So now, can someone give me a clue, what the hell is wrong with me? Is it my fault? Is it.. is it not the time yet? I don't have a good grip on this matter. Let me be selfish and talk about what I want. I want to find someone, talk to them, and it's not just me who's talking. I want to find someone, stay with them, and it's not just me who's staying. I want to be paid attention at least once by someone whom I look up to. I want mutual sense of belonging. I want to know how does it feel to go walking around the mall just for the sake of holding hands. I want to know how does it feel, how mesmerizing it is, to look at someone's eyes and feel like home. The question I have always been asking is, am I not good enough? Do I don't deserve love? The whole time I'm typing this, the one reason that keeps me questioning and wanting all of this is, I feel like I'm not good enough to feel that way. I haven't pass the standard of experiencing things my friends—people have done. Though I know deep down I feel like I deserve to be loved.

The Ugly and Untold Story of A Woman's Irony

Bra straps are the new crime
Murder and violence are considered fine
There is no such thing as a stigma
It is only her fault, oh, her karma!

Of sacrality, of these people
The color red screams an oath
Of legality, of an example
The "appropriate" men-designed troth

Should she smile, she did not
And her only fear is the bigot
She would wear black on Sunday
As if they will not call her out anyway

#SongsOfTheWeek

Blemishes, Freckles, & Cellulites

Is it good meeting me again after months busying my self with... my self? Recalling to what I have said in my previous post, it is a truly great feeling when you re-read your writings after a quite some time. I get to be reminded by my self various reasons on why this blog exists. These past few months, I have conquered the great majesty long semester break. I went home and reunited with my beloved cats. There were a lot of things that happened in those spare of holiday. I lost two of my cats. I passed the driving test and got my car license. I spent my birthday with my best friends. I also began campaigning the #bodypositivity rule of freedom.

According to WHO, approximately one million people die from suicide every year. Suicide is a serious problem, y'all. Suicide is now among the three leading causes of death among those aged 15-44 (male and female). "Males are four times more likely to die from suicide than are females. However, females are more likely to attempt suicide than are males," as reported by Centre of Disease Control and Prevention. This is a sad fact: most young adults have thought about attempting suicide in many ways; whether it is through toxic relationship, self-destructive behaviors, and camouflaged beliefs. I will try to minimize our topic and explain why I began to join the body-positive campaign.

Sadly, most cases of suicide begin with the headline of depression. I questioned my self as I'm typing this, should I talk about my self again this time for a starter of this topic ahead? I, my self, have lived with a scary amount of suicidal thoughts in the past. Mostly during my high school years where I started to have my depressive episode. That's a long story to talk about that I have mentioned previously in a post months ago. One of the back factors why I had those is how I look like back then. I was (or probably still am?) insecure about how I look. I am insecure of my thick thighs; they are too fat to fit into my skinny jeans, said to be too distracting when I wear short skirt, looks too packed when I sit. I am insecure of my chubby hands; they don't look pretty when I'm writing something, they are too short, they looks like a man's hands. I am insecure of my puppy nose; my nostril looks wide, when I wear glasses it falls out my nose. I am insecure about a lot of things about my self. I began to think what if I weren't born like this. What if I wasn't born at all. I began to have suicide thoughts. It was a really dark time. I vomited a lot while thinking I could get prettier that way. I didn't get out of my room while thinking that I would look fairer. I destructed my self through this toxic way of thinking. As I grew up and met some internet pals - finding out I wasn't the only one - I learned to stop thinking that way.

It was a weekend in my semester break. My family decided to have lunch at my nephew's new house. It was also a celebration for their marriage and the house. All of my cousins came too. We ate plentiful Sundanese home foods. In the middle of the lunch, my aunt said, "You're getting quite.. fatter, aren't you, Gin?" and then, my other aunts followed this series of question and expression along that line throughout the meal. While some people might think that this is a normal conversation, this kind of question affects me in some way I am reminded of my past self. Your weight is just a number. True beauty comes from within! This is bullshit. In the USA, at least 1 in 5 deaths linked to suicide are people with obesity. People have this uncomfortable weighing pressure when someone talks about their physical appearance. I didn't feel good at that time. I didn't even finish my lunch. It was my favorite lunch: angeun lada. I just felt guilty for I have eaten that much calories. I stopped halfway and thinking that I should have just stayed home; made my own lunch. This is not okay, people. Stop talking about physical appearance. Some people might have a back story that is traumatizing enough to look back. While it is considered acceptable to compliment their appearance, it is never okay to state that their 'appearance is not how it is should be.'

I met this one online friend from twitter. I won't mention their name nor address their gender. Let's make this genderless so this story will apply to all genders. We have known each other for two years after a funny conversation about a South Korean boy group. And after a year of fandom friendship, they started to open up about themselves in real life. Where they lived, how they looked like, what their occupation are. They are not a type of person who'd open up about their life to strangers online but somehow they trusted me. They grew up in a normal happily ever after family. But what it looked like wasn't how they expected it to be. They feel pressured because their family wanted them to be out gorgeous and tall like a typical flight attendant. They felt hopeless since their height are under above the standard. Once, they confessed to their parents that they don't want to be how their parents expected them to be. Their parents ignored them for the next days. It begun. They started to attempt suicide for more than five times. They started to smoke a frequent amount heavily thinking it would end their life faster. Their parents found out and brought them to a temple in order to 'purify' their thoughts. They were forced to pray to Gods under their parents' order. They stopped the toxic behavior though. But it didn't work for their insecurity. Quite a while they would go out drinking alone at a bar, smoking, sleeping with strangers. Now you can learn how people's standards on a person's physical appearance take effect, right?

Why I joined and began campaigning body positivity?

There are people out there suffering from chronic depression that affects their daily lives because of this. People are marginalized throughout time by what society expect them to be, to look like, to live. People begin to judge other people's physical appearance because it is not what the eyes of sociey want to look. This is a chain. A toxic chain that needs to be broken off. We need to end this.

People die every day by comitting suicide just because they are not 'pretty' enough to live. They are not 'handsome' enough. They are not 'skinny' enough. They are not 'fair' enough. They are just.. not enough. Body positivism is not a selfish thought. It is not a campaign to brag our ego off Some people mistaken this often. It is a campaign to tell us that we are ENOUGH.

"Oh wow you love yourself because no one loves you that way, isn't it?"

"You won't get a relationship if you keep being that way."

"I think she is feeling herself too much."

"A real man doesn't look like this, bro. Work out!"

Honestly, just stop. Let's talk about this frankly.

A woman with some fat on her would be very much happier if she is not getting judged by wearing an S-line dress. She would feel pretty and proud of herself. Let the day start off with her and her flowery road of contentedness about her body. It is a beautiful world that way.

When I'm barefaced, I would be very much happier if someone doesn't start to comment about my grey eyebags.

My friend would be very much happier if people don't talk about how their family is a heir of Javanese beauty while he looks like Chinese because of his slanted eyes.

This campaign is about accepting our self. I began to accept my self as I'm campaigning this too. I, Gina Cendekia, completely opposing society standards on people's physical appearance (gender stereotyping is also toxic and a part of it.)

Listen to me.. I'm typing this with honesty and truthfully.. when you start loving yourself, it is the best satisfication you will ever get in your life. If you are the type of person who needs proof, I am the proof. I suffered from depression and some several bullimic episode in the past. Look at me now. I gratefully loving my self when I put 'self-care' as my priority. You matter. Your blemishes, your crooked fingers, your irregular teeth, your cellulites, your crepuscular ankle, your non-existent eyebrows, your thick lips, your skinny neck, your freckles, your short height.. they are just as equally beautiful as yourself as a whole.

When I began putting my self as a priority, accepting my self is a piece of cake. I love make up kits nowadays (people who have known me know this already). I wear my hair out for classes. I wear black anywhere. I put my dark purple lipstick for hanging out. I'm not as scared as I am before. I began to be brave to be who I really am. How I wanted to look like for a very long time. When people start to judge me for being my self I just think like, 'wow... you obviously don't know how I looked like before this' and shrugged it off.

My goal is to be content about my self. That is your goal too. It must be.

"Oh wow you love yourself because no one loves you that way, isn't it?"

Indeed, and oh, they will regret not loving me when I love my self.

Appreciate. Embrace. Love.

❀ ❀ ❀

You are enough.

Author's Return & A Revelation

Hello. Such a very very long time, hasn't it been?

I have semi-decided that I will go back to show up in my old blog, which is this blog that I have left for over 3 years.

Recently nowadays (or since a week ago) I have been feeling down and insecure about my self. A lot of things happened during those 3 years I survived without checking this blog ever again. I also started posting my fictions up online and received a lot of support from my internet friends. There are still drafts I have saved that I haven't post online yet. Writing has always been my 'side' escapade beside locking my self down from a bunch of people. So, since I have been feeling unwell lately, I thought that going back to fix this old blog of mine would help me recover. And apparently since I have nothing to do anyway?

For those of you, my non-existent readers, are curious. I'm in college now. I'm majoring in English language education. Yes, your basic bitch is an English department student. As you can see, this kind of activity like writing on my blog also helps my academic skill in writing. Also the fact that I will be having subjects concerned in writing levels for the next years. Good luck on that, Gina.

I wondered if I should seperate my depressing story apart from this "hey I'm back" announcement post. But that would be a pain in the ass, wouldn't it?

In this post, I'm going to talk about my self. In 2016, I discovered this woke blog online called Magdalene (free shoutout, yoo-hoo!). It is Indonesia-based blog but there are also a lot of articles in English. They put up a lot of articles about various sensitive, even taboo, topics that most people wouldn't like to talk about. There are also articles that talks about what happened nowadays like politics, entertainment, and stuffs. And I liked it. I like to read in people's point of views about the issues. It widens my view. I am now a big fan of the site. I read the articles they put up there almost daily, or at least once or twice a week. The articles made me realize and aware of a lot of things. Including my past. I learned that I have to speak up about it. All those what made me stood strong until this second.

I grew up as a Muslim in a family of four. I was clingy to both of my parents and also to my brother. I loved my brother a lot. He taught me foreign languages like English and Mandarin when I was a kid. I went to the same Christian elementary school that my brother went to. But there were also Muslims there. Thus, I have been taught about tolerance in diversity since I was kid. There has never been someone who told me that "their religion is better than mine" or "my race is more respectable than yours." Me and my school friends grew up in harmony without ever bringing our diversity to our social relationship.

I used to be dad's princess. Dad's favourite girl. He always bought me stuffs I begged him to buy for me. Whether it be chocolates or legos. During four or fifth grade in elementary, my dad moved to other city for job relocation. In our house, there were only three of us; me, my mom, and my brother. My brother was in high school that period of time. My mom had always this rough upbringing when I was a kid. She was in no way to fit with the way my dad treated me. So I hated her. She scolded me almost everyday. And there she was, pinched several part of my body and even smacked me with a broomstick. I was in hell. The house I lived in started to feel like a nightmare. I missed my dad. Everytime he came home once a month or every three months, I always seek protection from him and never tell him any of the nightmare I had from my mom.

During the 6th grade, I started to learn how to think and how to act. My curiousity grew big and bigger. I also discovered the internet from my brother. And that was from where I learnt all the stuffs I haven't been taught in school. And one day where my dad was home, I looked up his phone and found out things I wasn't supposed to find. And that was the exact point when I learned why my mom acted that way towards me. I can't say, until this time, the exact reason why my mom acted that way. But I'm pretty sure that my mom was in pain back then. She was betrayed as a wife. She wasn't treated like a real wife in this family. I felt bad. I felt guilty for her. I felt sorry for all the swearing I said in the back for her. I was just a little kid assuming that what my mom did to me was vicious. Maybe it was, as literally, everything was in the form of abuse. But I have never knew the reason behind that, why my mom treated me that way. I thought she hated me.

As I got into junior high school, I learned how to practice Shalat and how to read Qur'an. I also learned how to wear hijab there, in which I haven't ever wore one before. Turned out that all my new friends have learned it better and far more fluent than me. I felt left behind. The new Muslim-friendly environment made me question a lot of stuffs. I started to think, "how come I didn't grow up in a religious family?"

During this period of questioning about my family, I hit my episode. I had depression. I started to be suicidal and hated the world. I felt like the universe is always against me. My grades went downhill. I had bullimic. I wished I was never born. My junior high self hurted me and my family. I was a burden. I was a failure. Not my mom nor my dad.

In high school I decided to move on from my past self. I seperated my self from my old environment, which is my old friends. I wanted to restart and find new environment. I went to a school where my old friends didn't go to. I learned more about real life shit. I made new friends who turned out to be my best friends until this second. But still, I didn't find my self turning to be more religious than before. Then I started to ask the existence of God.

"is He real?"

"where is He?"

"prove me that You are here!"

Until the 2nd year of high school hit me with a really shocking event (that I can't tell it here). A day where God punched me in the face just like literally telling me, "yo I am here. I exist."

And that was when I found God for the first time in my life. It's true that I grew up as a Muslim because of my family's heredity. But never had I felt something that made me believe in God before. I made a deal with Him. A deal- an agreement that still runs to this day.

There was also time after that occasion that I went all religious. I practice Shalat on time. I read the Qur'an. I even did some of the Sunnah. For the first time in my life, I focused on the relationship between me, my self, and God. I didn't look at any other direction but Him.

As I grew religious, I started to discover various Muslim-friendly social communities. I observed them one by one. I also learned from them about Islam. Some of them taught me about Islam more, some of them showed me how Islam goes. As I got to learn about Muslim society around me, I was in shock.

"This was not how I expected them to be."

"I thought Islam is a friendly religion."

"Why are you all like this?"

As I got to learn about Muslim society around me, I learned that I didn't fit with them.

As I got to learn about Muslim society around me, it made me question the belief I have in God.

"God, is this how you want me to be? Like them? Anarchy, hurting other people's feelings, destroying harmony of diversity?"

That was when I stopped being religious. I did still practice Shalat. But I always thought that the way some people recognize themselves as "Muslim" was wrong and never fits my view in belief.

And one day, shit just always happens. A day where the figure I have always adored in my dad betrayed me. I remember the first time my dad yelled at me. I remember the first time my dad hit me. I remember it all in my head. I still remember it in the form of a really big scar in my heart. I will never forget the day where my dad threw my phone away and slapped me. These really bad occasions just strengthen the thought I have from my childhood. That my dad was the bad guy. My dad, who made my mom treated me like shit. He is the real culprit.

That was the exact point that I started to fear men. I hated men. I learned that men are all like that. I have long gone losing my self of hating men and fearing them. I have long gone losing my trust in my dad. I was no longer his favourite girl. I was no longer his princess.

Dad, I'm sorry I disappointed you. I'm sorry that I grew up not like what you expected me to be.

But dad, who made me like this? I still love you, dad.

But you will have to accept the fact that this is me.

That even though it may seem like this was all my fault, it was yours.

Do not blame mom for this. She has worked really hard to keep this family together...

Dad, you do realize that I am what I am right now is because of you, right? You do, don't you?

I had my depression back in high school. Plus the anxiety that worsen the situation. There was a time where I had to go for a rehab because of my depression. I stayed in the hospital frequently. On new year's eve and even on my birthday. But who knew that God still exist even though I started to distance my self from Him? I made a lot of internet friends that went through the same shit as me. I learned a lot about my self from them. I learned how to cooperate with my episode. I learned that I am not alone in this world. Was it because of my will or was it because of His will?

2016 is the year of lessons. I may have said this a lot but I learned A LOT in that year. That was also the point that I have recovered my self and got better. I graduated from high school with a great score. High school that lasted for three years was a memory of me growing up. In those three years where I fought with my best friends oftenly, where I found God for the first time in my life, where I discovered a lot about my self (my belief, my sexuality, and me as a feminist).

From that point on, I have fully recovered. I grew up. I matured. I locked my past self down to the deepest part of my heart. I didn't throw it away. Why, you ask? Because those are parts of me that made me standing strong until now. I am grateful of my achievement. But I also am grateful of the scars I have. Without them, I will never be this strong. I will never know how to stand strong on my own feet. I learned how to love my self. Shit will always hit me in the future one day and I will go back on peeking that dark parts of me and think, "What would Beyoncé do?" I realized that I still need that part to build my self back up again.

I may not address my self as the part of religious society I have around me. I may not even address my self as the same believer the same way my family does. I believe in God in my own way. We made a deal back then. One's relationship with their God is their personal matter. Everyone should learn this important part in believing. That we are in no way to judge one's belief with their God no matter what condition they are in. Hey, in the end, we die alone. It is only between you, yourself, and the God you're believing in.

There is no conclusion in this post. I'm just saying that even after all those occurence in my life, I still made it through this far. The reason why I made this post and spoke up about those stuffs is because one day I might go back on reading this and it will reminds me that I could go through this once, then why can't I go through the other one?

I love my self not because I have ego and being selfish.

I love my self because there was time once in my life where I hated my self fully and wished to be never born.

Then again, God will not put you in a situation you can't get through, is He?