Cuti Besar Enak Kali ye? #yapping

A little while ago, I found myself seriously considering taking an extended leave from work. It is a type of leave available once every five years, with a maximum duration of three months. 

Aside from the fact that I am already tired of seeing the same people every day—especially that unlucky bastard, I simply want to step away from my job for three months. Then perhaps I can return with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. 

Unlucky bastard #yapping

I have honestly grown so tired of working. Besides everything happening in my personal life, I also find my workplace increasingly frustrating. I do not want to immediately label it “toxic,” because perhaps I am the problem. Maybe I have simply lost my motivation.  

These days, I merely show up for work and go home. There is no real sense of purpose left in it. I am simply fulfilling my obligations because I am being paid to do so. Had I been working for a private company, I probably would have received my first written warning by now.  

Today, I felt utterly exhausted. I arrived early in the morning and had to be immediately ready for front-desk duty at the MPP (mal pelayanan publik). Then, in the afternoon, I also had to cover the TPT service desk. With a schedule like that, I have to figure out for myself when to return to the office, take a break, solat, and attend to everything else.  

When I think about it, working as a frontliner is genuinely draining. There is barely any room to pause, breathe, or manage myself at my own pace. So, I try to arrange things in whatever way keeps me from losing my mind.  

But this unlucky bastard always seems determined to find fault with other people.  

I genuinely wanted to respond because I felt offended by what he wrote in the group chat. But my friend told me, “Just let it go. The moment you engage with him, you lose.”  

I know I was wrong for falling asleep. But he is still incredibly irritating.  

I feel like taking extended leave, stepping away from everything, and finally giving myself a moment to breathe.

 

 

Hard Lesson: my dignity, my time, and my sanity

I feel as though I have neglected this blog amid the many problems I am currently facing. Part of me wants to embrace it again and share it with my friends so that it can come back to life. But considering that its contents may now be a little more ‘sensitive’ I have decided to let it remain simply as one of my private spaces for writing. That way, if I die someday, there will still be something here to remind you of me—all the rambling and yapping I have written.  

So much has happened, especially in the story of my life—this sorrowful journey of mine. At least now, I understand things more clearly and have begun to see everything that happened as a lesson in life. It has been an extraordinarily expensive lesson, one I paid for with my dignity, my time, and my sanity.  

And it is not over yet.  😖

One by one, I am trying to untangle the problems in my life. They may resemble a hopelessly tangled thread, but I am slowly trying to loosen each knot. As an INTJ, I often feel that everything must be resolved immediately, through all kinds of strategies and carefully constructed plans. Apparently, however, some things can only be worked through gradually.  

Alon-alon asal kelakon is getting real.  😐

Everything that has emerged in my life feels unbearably heavy. I would call this the second volume of the most difficult period of my life, because I experienced a similar mtbd (mental breakdown) when I was in my first year of high school. This feels like the greatest upheaval I have experienced since then. You could say it has gone up a level.  

I experienced things that no one should normally have to endure: a racing heart, cold feet, dizziness, and, most dangerously, the urge to hurt myself through self-harm or suicide. In that moment, I thought, I really need help. 

So, I went to see a psychologist.  

I do not know whether I am allowed to share this, whether it is supposed to remain confidential, or how any of that works. What I do know is that this is my experience. People have told me that going to a psychologist was the right step to take in order to help myself.  

Sometimes, when those feelings suddenly appeared and I wanted to ‘end’ everything, I did not know where to go or what to do. The pain had become so overwhelming that I wanted to redirect it into physical pain rather than continue enduring the pain within my soul.  

And so, I went to a psychologist. I told her what I had been experiencing, asked how I could cope with it, and tried to understand why it was happening. Another reason I sought professional help was that I could no longer break down and make sense of my own problems. What is this? Please help me understand. 

These were some of the things she said to me:  

1. “You are actually already capable of mapping out your own problems. It seems that what you truly need is simply someone to talk to.”  
2. “Coming here was the right decision. It is a form of helping yourself. You have done something remarkable.”  
3. “From everything you have told me, you have done the very best you could. Anything beyond that is no longer your responsibility. Unfortunately, your efforts were not reciprocated. You were moving forward alone, and we both know how exhausting that can be.”  
4. “Your decision was not wrong. If you had continued, it would have drained all your energy, and you would have spent it on matters that were never truly your responsibility.”  
5. “Just this once, try to think about what you want, what you feel, and what truly matters to you. Do not focus too much on your husband’s point of view, your parents’ point of view, or anyone else’s, because you are the one living through this. You keep trying to understand them, but it seems that you are the only one making that effort.”  
6. “Try to walk alongside your grief and sadness. Embrace them. It may not be easy, but you have already tried, and you are still willing to keep trying. That in itself is remarkable. Do not allow yourself to remain trapped in your sadness forever. You will begin to heal when you learn how to walk alongside those feelings.”  
7. “This will not simply disappear, nor will your emotional wounds heal immediately. They may continue to resurface throughout your life as part of who you are. What matters is how you eventually turn them into lessons and allow them to become part of your growth.”  
8. “The process is different for everyone. For some people, it happens quickly; for others, it takes much longer. It depends on the individual. But you must believe that you are capable of getting through it.”  
9. “Forget and release the what ifs, the hopes you once cherished for your marriage. Understand that those hopes will not become reality, so that you do not remain trapped in thoughts of What if this happened? What if that happened? Those thoughts will only destroy you. Let them go and make peace with them. You are worthy. You can recover, and you can begin again.”  
10. “Stop blaming yourself. You are still wondering whether things might have been different if you had been more accepting, more willing to endure being treated badly, or more willing to compromise yourself. What is done is done.”  

Then she mentioned something that existed only in the quietest corner of my heart, something no one else knew. Only I, God, and my tiny silit knew about it.  

Her words struck somewhere deep within me. How did she know? Is she some kind of fortune-teller?  

Yep.  

My emotions have changed now. What began as anger, sadness, and disappointment has gradually transformed into sadness and acceptance. I am trying to accept that everything in this world has consequences.  

I may once have said that I never wanted to marry someone who was this or that, but some things happened beyond my control. Now, I want to take that control back. Control over my own life in this world.  

At the peak of my mtbd, I kept wondering how someone who had married me, slept with me, and promised to build a life with me could do such a thing. Why was he like this? Why did he behave that way? Why did I, someone who had restrained myself and tried so hard to remain ‘pure’ have to be violated by a person like him?  

I felt worthless and filthy.  

At one point, I even wondered, Which of my sins is this punishment for, God? I was devastated beyond words. I felt as though everything had been destroyed.  

All of that happened before I became aware again that my life and happiness in this world do not depend on one person. Life continues—and I am still alive. At the very least, for whatever remains of my life, I can continue doing good and gradually find my way back to myself.  

 

You may be wondering, “How could you have married him?”  

Well, there are things I cannot tell you here. What has happened has happened. What matters is that there are still people who care about me, and there is still God, who loves me.  

Other people are free to judge my life, but their judgment will not determine the decisions I make about how I choose to live it.  

As I said, this has been the most expensive lesson of my life. I paid for it with my dignity, my time, and my sanity. 

**tulisan ini dibuat ditengah-tengah jaga TPT dan memutuskan untuk mengupload nya karena, why not? 

 

 

 

 

Some Things Just Don’t Feel Right

Sometimes, I still find myself wondering whether I have failed to accept my destiny.  

Was I supposed to surrender to being treated however my husband pleased, remain obedient despite the many ways our marriage conflicted with the life I believed in, and accept it all with grace?  

If my ultimate orientation is God, Allah SWT, and if drawing closer to Him is the purpose of my life, does that mean obedience to my husband must become my path toward God? Some women hold firmly to this belief. Yet, as an ordinary person trying to live honestly according to my conscience, I find that understanding profoundly at odds with my convictions.  

To me, it sounds less like devotion and more like manipulation. It seems like a distorted interpretation promoted by husbands or men who wish to maintain authority over a woman’s body, mind, and direction in life.  

I do not believe that the pursuit of God and His paradise can only be achieved through marriage or obedience to a husband. There are countless ways to draw closer to God: through compassion, integrity, service, generosity, and every sincere act of goodness. Surely, the path to God should not require a woman to surrender her freedom, dignity, and happiness.  

Still, I sometimes question myself. Am I not surrendering enough to God? Have I failed to accept the destiny He has written for me?  

Perhaps the truth is simply that this interpretation of faith does not resonate with me. It feels suffocating and restrictive. More than that, it feels hypocritical when such obedience is demanded by a husband who does not fulfil his own responsibilities.  

That is why I chose to end this marriage.  

I do not want to continue living beneath layers of dishonesty, distorted beliefs, and expectations he placed upon me. I am naturally nurturing and affectionate. Caring for others has always come easily to me. But being loving does not mean allowing someone to treat me carelessly. When my kindness is met with entitlement and disregard, remaining silent would contradict the very principles by which I live.  

During our courtship, he presented everything as good, beautiful, and reassuring. Yet the reality of our marriage revealed something very different. Deep within himself, he seemed to carry a persistent sense of inadequacy, perhaps because his income and educational background were lower than mine.  

He repeatedly spoke about how I should stay at home, even though my career was one of the things I had clearly addressed from the beginning.  

I told him that I was a working woman. This was my profession and an important part of my life. I asked him plainly whether he could accept that and whether we could build a marriage that accommodated both of our realities.  

Yet, in his mind, my employment meant that I was also responsible for “helping” to support the household financially. The irony is that I would have contributed willingly, even without being asked. That was never the issue. What troubled me was the way he framed it, as though my contribution were an obligation he was entitled to demand rather than an act of partnership I would have offered freely.  

What disturbed me even more was his belief that my profession was haram.  

Had I known from the beginning that he held such a view, I would have recognised it immediately as a major red flag. I would have walked away and never allowed the relationship to progress toward marriage.  

Is that not hypocrisy?  

How could he condemn my work while simultaneously expecting to benefit from the income it provided? How could the source be considered morally unacceptable, while the money it produced remained convenient enough to enjoy?  

He constantly complained about one thing or another, most often about how little he earned. And I could never quite understand what he expected from me. If he already believed that his income was insufficient, why did he choose to marry me while also carrying the financial responsibility of supporting his sister?  

Did he expect me, and perhaps my family, to eventually support him?  

That question continues to trouble me. There is something deeply unsettling about condemning a woman’s independence while quietly relying on the security that her independence provides.  

Perhaps what I am struggling to accept is not destiny itself, but the expectation that I should call injustice “destiny” simply because it occurred within a marriage. Perhaps surrendering to God does not mean surrendering my judgment, dignity, or right to protect myself. Perhaps leaving a life built upon contradictions is not an act of rebellion against God, but an act of honesty toward the life and conscience He has given me.  

I do not believe that choosing myself means abandoning my faith. Nor do I believe that ending this marriage means I have failed to accept God’s will. Sometimes, acceptance is not about remaining where we have been wounded. Sometimes, it is about acknowledging the truth of what happened, grieving what could not be saved, and finding the courage to walk toward a life in which we no longer have to betray ourselves merely to prove our devotion.  

And perhaps that is what I am doing now.  

I am not rejecting destiny. I am refusing to let someone else use the language of destiny to determine the limits of my life. 

**tulisan ini dibuat dengan keadaan sadar setelah pemikiran panjang