There’s Always A Room To Be A Better Human.

It feels like it has been for ages I haven’t been writing much for Medium. I wanted to write constantly and post regularly, but many priorities of life have taken many turns. Since Medium ended its curation, nothing else could motivate me to write and post any quality blogs.

Once again, I began to ask myself. Why do I write? What makes me keep coming back to this tiny screen to write and whinge about life? If writing on Medium gets you nowhere, are you actually just wasting your time? If Medium rules keep changing, why would writers stay in here? Maybe I should stop asking and accept that Medium only cares for its own cycle of writers and readership. Writers’ canonship is determined by their proximity to Medium’s own network.

Then came this Covid mess and writing got even more difficult as mental health declined to the lowest level. The ill-fated lockdown just made things worst; losing the job, alcoholism, and anxiety.

But there was a silver lining. I restarted decluttering, sorting out junks I’ve piled up over the years. When I got back from Japan in May 2019, the rising star nation inspired me how possession didn't determine happiness. You only have what you need. True happiness comes from how one accepts simplicity in life.

I started looking around my apartment. I began to check out all of my possessions from clothes, books, furniture, and the list just went on. I began to question and challenge myself. Did I really need them? When was the last time I wore that shirt or those shoes? I asked everything I had until I made a list and began to sort out any stuff which hadn’t been part of my day-to-day life for the past 2 years. The result was mind-boggling. I had so many things in my life I liked to pile up. I detached any sentimentality on the collected items. I began to learn to let go of the past.

But now, living in a one-bedroom apartment for 8 years, it feels like this place is stretching out. This 83-metre square space suddenly feels like it’s just too big for me. What is it all bout this place that sends me into heartbreak? Is this place keeping some energy of the past? The past life when I was in a relationship. The times when many close friends came over for lunch and dinner. It constantly reminds me of the moments when I was loved, once or twice.

Now that I’ve been single for almost three years, friends have long gone, and I grew older. I wanted to let go of all of it, but this place wouldn’t let the past energy go off me. No matter how much I try to distance myself from the memories, the walls and each corner of this place constantly reminds me of the past. The windows are glazed with sorrow from the old stories and recent deaths. It no longer wrapped me with warmth and security.

So, it’s been taking me three years to make my final decision to sell it. I accepted my parent’s offer to build and design a self-contained tiny flat in his backyard. The flat is, in fact, only 32.4-metre square.

I look around again. I have furniture, cooking ware, and other tiny bits of pieces I can’t bring to my little house. Once again, I have to let go of many more items. I would say ninety per cent of them have to go.

Here I am. I have to let go of the past. Every item in this apartment has a story. But this time, it’s just all too familiar to me. From this point onward, I know that when you never let go of the past, you constantly come up beaten and defeated; that feeling of being unloved, being alone and lonely as you’re aging more than you’re expecting, you’re betrayed, and you’re full of grudge and revenge. Those past times are all playing with your little mind. It begins to consume me, creeping up on me like cancer.

But this time, I know myself too well. I won’t let those wandering minds consume me. I won’t let it defeat me, my mental health. Any forms of love will always stay, and then love leaves you in just a blink of an eye. You never own it. You borrow it for a while, and it lasts because love is a privilege, not a possession. If you’re lost because the departed love left you suffering in the deep, you can’t expect anyone to find you. You can’t expect anyone to drag you out of misery. You have to find yourself. In that way, you will always have room to love yourself or at least you’ll find the door to let you in. The last resort you can stay for a while — only you — and hopefully can love yourself again.

As you get older and become more invisible to others, you contemplate life and observe your surroundings. Haven’t you been grateful enough for what life has given you? Whether you’ll be wiser or bolder — one thing for sure — there’s always room for you to be a better human.

Sydneysider & storyteller. Raised a traveller and grown-up spiritual. I story-tell travel, mindfulness, spirituality & anything in between. talesoftraveler.com

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