05/12/19

If I’m zoning out, that’s a sign that I’m introverting and plotting the resolution of personal matters in my brain. What’s worse is if it occurs at the workplace and in the presence of colleagues. I don’t want to be mistaken as someone distant, but I don’t want to be pushed to the edge where the annoyance will glimmer in my eyes as a warning. All I need at that time is some moments to myself to process the information overload. If I don’t do that, my brain will be weighed down like an anchor with unnecessary matters . . . and it’ll be splashed on my face. No wonder the Carries have zoomed in on the fact that one has to be adaptable and flexible. Things are fishy when I’m boiling like a radiator in a room that has a comfortable temperature, which meant that my mood is about to slide off. I slipped out for lunch alone at a nearby eatery without my colleagues knowing because I needed the time out to clear my brain and calm myself.

Yet they are cool enough to understand that I’m not as fluent as them in the common language spoken at the workplace. Even though I grew up in a multicultural and multilingual society and have been exposed to at least 4 languages, it doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m fluent in all of it. My brain still doesn’t work fast enough to swim between languages, trust me.

But what I’ve recently observed is that I’m more selfish when it comes to weekends and holidays. I’d rather stay at home and recharge the introvert battery than to head outdoors in the midst of a crowded place. Hang on, I know what you’d say about this. Beggars can’t be choosers; working folks only have the weekends to run their errands and complete their shopping. If my battery isn’t fully recharged over the weekend, I’ve a tendency of working with a charcoal face. That’s why things are much better if and when I’m fully rested and ready to attack the working week head-on. Don’t blame me; I would love to be on my own for the remaining 25% as I don’t thrive in a crowded area. I thrive better in solitude. Throw me in a room with all of my work and the expected timeframe for completion and leave me alone until I poke my head out for assistance. Oh, and copious amount of coffee would be lovely as it’d keep me awake until I crash after hours. It’s a weird habit I have since before college.

“You have a caffeined bloodstream.”

My childhood friend would always quip that phrase each time we head off to our favorite coffeehouse to catch up. And I’ve learnt to take it in my stride as it’s true. Still, I can’t complain much. Life in law is more hectic than this and the first one to take a beating is my social life, as I’ve insinuated before.



Come to think of it, this reminds me of a touchy conversation between me and someone. It is a topic that only a handful of my nearest and dearest know. It’s the precursor to who I am today. In the quiet moments to myself, I questioned most of the decisions that I made in the last five years. The anger and sadness rose from nowhere into the air, suffocating me with all of the regrets. Yet the irony is there; the more I should arrange for an appointment with a counsellor/psychiatrist, the more I’m unwilling to do so. It’s rather safer for me to keep everyone at an arm’s distance instead. Although the specific someone desired for me to spill more beans as I’d feel much better after ranting, it’s arduous to do so . . . for personal reasons.

Maybe it’s true; the suppressed issues are deeply entwined with my identity that eliminating it would remove a significant part of me.