Trepidation

 

"What can we take on trust
in this uncertain life? Happiness, greatness,
pride--nothing is secure, nothing keeps."
- Euripides, Hecuba

 

Change is something we face with trepidation, no matter how loud we outwardly deny it. We are so wrapped up in our cocoon; it doesn't matter that we get claustrophobic. Why take the risk of experiencing something much worse than what's happening right now?

I first faced this fear when I entered a boarding school. I was twelve, going on thirteen, and it was my first time away from home, my first time experiencing rigid discipline. I buckled, I broke. I was so determined to hold on to what I had, I didn't even create room to enjoy my new life. There had been times when I let my guard down, and let joy and comfort creep in, but I immediately built back a wall, brick by brick. When I finally returned to my old life, I discovered that my friends had changed. There were new social cliques, new dynamics. I discovered that I, too, had changed. But I adapted quickly, because that was what I had wanted for six agonizing months.

Toward the end of high school, I was pushed down from the top of the food chain to social pariah. Who knew that those uncertain times would one day lead to a lecturer's skepticism about my ability to keep up with a gruelling course based on my abysmal SPM results? But because I was an outcast then, that I welcomed change in the form of pre-university campus life. I redefined myself. No one knew me; it was the perfect opportunity. When I registered, I vowed never to get close to anyone, never to get hurt again.

But I broke that vow. I became close with a few people who would eventually become lifelong friends and brothers.

When I was accepted into Medical School, I moved out of civilization. I didn't mind it so much, though. What concerned me more was that I had moved further away from my family and new best friends. Throughout my five years there, studying in a town that changed so much in the same amount of years, my heart was torn in a few places. I never quite planted my feet just as firmly as my one year in matriculation. I was afraid that if I made new friends, I would lose the ones I already had.

But people change. They always do.

More years passed by, and now I'm in a rut. My life is stagnant. All around me, my friends have built families, have pursued their Masters or further their careers. Even my family is evolving, adding another Johanabas into the fray. Mama is wearing a hijab now--which, to be honest, I'm having a tough time adjusting to. Acceptance is one thing, adjustment is another matter altogether. Me? I'm still living under Mama's roof, with no long-term relationships, with no plans of building a family of my own. Just work, go home, go to the gym (occasionally), tweet, blog, write, read, max out my credit cards, pay some off on payday, then max them out again. Rinse and repeat.

Last week I sat for an interview for the Neurosurgery Master's program. I may get the position. That will be a year in Kelantan, or four if I get in-campus. It's still too early to tell, but I am overwhelmed by that familiar trepidation. What if I'm not good enough, as the lecturer implied? What if I fail? What if whenever I return, Arwen will look at me like I'm a stranger? What if my room no longer have the same vibe to it? What if my more-brother-than-best-friend drifts away?

I'm in a rut, but I'm so comfortable in my own mess that I fear change.

Change will come, eventually.

Comments

[Breanna]

On the other hand, if you were totally ready to move to a new phase in your life but hadn't realized it yet, what better sign than a vague discontent with things the way they are?

Perhaps 2011 will be your year. You might as well expect good things as bad things, right, when you have nothing to go on?

Besides, I seem to remember someone who was astonished that he was able to sell (gasp!) genre fiction. ;) You've succeeded before in awkward circumstances (by your own account), and you can do it again. Vive le change.

[Fadzlishah Johanabas]

You're probably right. This sense of unrest is really stifling. Maybe inside I want change to happen. Thanks, Raven!

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