About Emotional Ageing
Losing My Best Friend, Angeline
by the late DAWN USHARANI
I lost my dear friend Angel, who departed peacefully on the 8th of March three year ago. A thousand words in dedication will never bring her back. Then again neither will a million tears. I know because I cried bitterly when I found myself reading her obituary and finding out that it was too late to attend her funeral. Shocked and depressed, I felt annoyed that her family had kept the news from those closest to her. How would I get through this period, and where would I find the strength to cherish all our memories. With a heavy heart, I trace the outline of her beautiful face, and quietly reminisced about our friendship. Like two close sisters, we always spoke intimately and shared our deepest thoughts and feelings in a way only two good friends could.
I met Angel though her sister, and enjoyed many meals prepared by her big hearted mum. By then I was already a nursing staff at the general hospital, and she was a sales assistant with a retail outlet in our small town. Having got to know her and her family, my brother advised her to become a nurse as it was considered a respected profession for young ladies. Soon we stayed together in our nursing dormitories, and she was recognized as my closest friend. Her whickered sense of humor, and sisterly pushover attitude, kept me grounded. We wore similar dresses, fashioned our long waist length hairs into loose curls spilling down and soft waves on the sides. When night fall came, we shared long talks while we hand rolled our curls for the next day. Our smooth upswept chignon, gave us both a clean and polish look under our nurse’s hats. Angel not only rose in rank through the year, but she was courted by a handsome suitor and before we all knew it was married.
When it came my turn to get married, Angel lent me her wedding veil which I could not afford to hire. It was a beautiful trail of netted white lace bordered in silk that made me look so radiant. Even though it was a traditional Hindu wedding, she went ahead and arranged for a huge bouquet of white lilies that captured my wedding moment at the studio. Marriage and career made it difficult for me to continue the nursing path, and with a heavy heart, I tendered my resignation. Angel continued to stay in touch, and whenever we met, we would have long talks about family, husbands, children, and the many waves we had to ride out.
Many more years passed, and although we kept in touch by phone and greeting cards, our lives would be stretched further. My growing family was moving from one state to another, based on my husband’s profession in the police force. However her hardest period came when Angel became a widow. The glow which always made me excited to see her, vanished overnight. She was sacred about the future, specifically her own. As time passed, I myself faced darkness when my husband passed away suddenly. My best friend came to the funeral reception to give me moral support, when I felt consumed by sadness.
I finally moved to the city and stayed with my daughter. Whenever I took the opportunity to meet with Angel, our lighthearted moments seemed more serious. She missed her late husband desperately and was unable to accept the hard facts of life. She felt very alone and the roller coaster-like emotional swings, pushed her into seclusion. However hard, I tried to shake her out of her depression, and tell her to stay alive and remain vital, proved fruitless. Angel’s health took a downward curve and she was unable to take my phone calls. I was informed that she was immobile, did not want to communicate and was being home nursed. So many jumbled emotions like anger and hopelessness crossed and scared my heart, as I wondered how I could find a way to rehabilitate my best friend.
Three weeks before Angel passed away, my daughter finally got her on the phone and she agreed upon a convenient day to meet. However, it was short lived, because we were denied a visit by her family on the morning of the journey. Her passing was all so sudden and it still fills like a void that I battle with in my sleep. Not a day passes now that I do not think of our special friendship and sisterly bond, and so wish that I was given the opportunity to be with my dear Angel, in the final days of her life.
About Emotional Ageing
Ageing Actively - want to follow me?
by KUANG CHING HEI
About a year before my retirement was due in 2018, I had mentally prepared a list of things to do, with travelling taking a chunk of it, doing charity, teaching part-time, and yay, socialise! Foreseeing that there was almost nothing ritual and routine to do anymore, I needed to make sure that my retired life would not be in vain. But first, I had to psyched myself that I was still useful! My university had literally taken the step-mother approach, I was utterly disowned when I hit 60. Termed as ‘sara paksa’ or forced retirement, the experience was like a cut and dried affair. No sending off by the university, faculty, dean or even the HOD. Maybe it was me ☹, but no, I was assured, it wasn’t me. There were no grand affairs like schools do, and of course, that made me feel sad and bad, particularly, when a third of my life had been sacrificed to the institution. Nonetheless, life needs to move forward, so I shifted my attitude and retrieved my sadness.
On retiring, I had also imagined all the ‘beings’ that I could be. I could be a lazy old woman, clad in sarong, and an old t-shirt, hair unwashed, face unpainted, food unlimited, slouched on the sofa, watching Netflix movies, munching popcorns and Twisties, and drinking Pepsi. This can go on 24/7, 365 days of the year, but who will do my laundry or mind my dog Jacky? Let it be, let it be!
I could be that grumpy old lady living in a house with nobody, nobody, but me because I had driven all to insanity by my constant grumbling, and unhappiness. I could live like Stooge, stingy, unappreciative, aged, fat and ugly, and never happy because I know of nothing else to do. Or, I could turn myself into that nosy ever-complaining Mrs. Robinson of a neighbour (like someone in the movies), despised by almost everyone she knows because of her awkward manners and unpleasantries, ever since she lost her self-confidence and dignity. Her ignominy turns others against her, and she doesn’t even know that she is the cause of her tragedies.
Alternatively, I could be a free Kakak Siti – living to serve the whims and fancies of the family. I could drive, I could buy, I could clean, I could cook, I could wash and iron, smile and not frown, catering to the household needs, without a care or complaint, since I have lost my personal desire to be happy.
Then again, I could choose to live my life as me, myself, and I, by never giving up on life because there is so much to embrace, learn and give back to. I could contribute to society. I could add to research by publishing. I could mentor younger postgraduates. I could facilitate workshops. I could help others edit their language. I could do charity. When tired, I could be the nonchalant laissez faire woman of liberty at Hi-tea.
Upon reflection, since retirement, I have had the pleasure of being all of the above, from time to time, but not long enough to be hated yet! As the many moons waned and waxed, I realised that I had become more like me, what I was made to be - involved with the active preoccupation of editing language for others. Due to the overwhelming response of my services, I don’t have time to complain. In fact, I am deeply grateful for what I have, and what have been given to me. I have come thus far, happier, and less reserved. Most of all, I noticed I care more about the world, and less about what others think of me. I care about helping others because of the light they see. I care more about giving because life is an investment. I care more about learning new things because there is so much more I don’t know. In 2019 alone, I have attended more talks and symposiums than I ever had done before, and more new friends to my list! As I learned from others, I realised, ‘Gosh, I have so much more to learn!’
If this is not ageing actively, what is it? Want to follow me?
About Emotional Ageing
Capturing A Visual Moment
by SHEELA KANAGASABAI
The saying, “A picture is worth a thousand words” is often used to describe how powerful an image is in terms of its ability to capture, compare and recall information. Old family photographs are a treasured part of any family history because they provide a mental representation of an experience. Many of them, unfortunately, do not contain a date stamp feature nor location data. Through the power of photography, a picture can capture the essence of a single visual moment in time. My family would look through those pictures for hours at a time. I loved the richness and depth of the original black and white prints and I lingered over the smallest details in terms of clothing and faces. I could never get enough of the photographs, or of the stories that went with them. They connect me to my grandparents, their histories, and to the ancestors I never knew. I am grateful that my family had the means to take those early photographs and the foresight to keep them.
Capturing moments in time no matter how big or small on camera is way for us to mark the passage of time. Most of us tend to look back and remember who we once were and who we have now become. These moments will ultimately join others, slowly building a collection of old family photographs that journey back to previous generations where others lived their lives. And sometimes they may even take us further, into realms beyond our own. Those images will affect our moods and memories, letting us peek into family history past - whether they were taken a few minutes ago or decades earlier. Each is a freeze frame of a historical moment in all its complex aspects.
In the photography world, black and white shots deserve a separate chapter. The aura of mystery and the vintage flavour immediately recall distant memories. It easy to let yourself be transport to a world that unfortunately no longer exists. But as nostalgic as I am, I like to relive those images with open eyes and cultivate, even if only for a moment the illusion of being able to rewrite history. The black and white magic provides visual history of a place. I see them as the guardians of customs and traditions. As I look at these pictures, my mind plunges back to the early 40s. I wonder how each individual felt, why there appeared to be a worried look on their faces. Was this picture taken during the post or pre-war period? They must have endured a hard life filled with numerous mouths to feed and endless internal conflicts that laid burden on their weak shoulders. Family photographs can be considered cultural artefacts because they document the events that shape families' lives. In many cases, photographs are the only biographical material people leave behind after they die.
It used to be a norm for family portraits to be arranged in a row on the walls of old ancestral homes. Many of the people in them have long passed away. Initially I remembered being afraid to even look at those images, because they were covered by dusty cobweb wrapped wooden frames with piercing eyes that made me feel very uncomfortable. They represented a specific moment in time, and felt evocative yet textural and emotional to their owners. It can be an amazing experience to look at the faces of those who came before us. While I yearned to know more about my maternal grandfather, I finally was able to find an old yellow edge portrait shot of this person. The story of his life is hidden behind those deep-set eyes that stare out at you. That portrait photograph captured a man of dignity with a strong moral compass. As I try to piece together a picture of his life, there is a frustrating longing for a story that can now only be told as second hand information, and in fragments due to hidden workings of human memory. Still, much of his past remains a mystery.
Back in the day, our grandmothers and relatives did not have a wide array of choices when it came to clothes and makeup. Neither was there advance knowledge of Photoshop and photo filters software. They never had the opportunity to visit the spa, and they definitely did not get beauty injections to improve their beauty. But they were still beautiful enough to take our breath away. No matter the era, the clothes, or the expressions, we see photographs infused with love. Photographs capture and preserve our memories. Family pictures are powerful. They bring us back in time. They’re a great way to reminisce. They are also a part of our legacy. In years to come, grandchildren and great-grandchildren may someday ask to see pictures of the family, and it would seem sad if there were few or none to share. Having the pictures brings the family together again as they look back on their lives.
About Emotional Ageing
Breaking Up, Too Late
by M A BADRIE
Presumably many of us had gone through this taxing phase of breaking up. Our children are now going through the hormone injected and infested phase when falling in love and sexual attraction are inevitable. However, most keep their love affairs to themselves, but those who face break ups may even go into depression. And so, what's with break ups? This article is probably more pertinent to those who dated and broke up before finally tying the knots.
My parents and grandparents married not based on love, but arranged marriage. There are of course religious and cultural elements. My belief is that many of us now reaching the 70’s married on love.
Today, many young people aren't bothered with marriage, stained by many of their friends breaking up a few years into marriage. This seems to be trendy, going by the divorces statistics countrywide. Inevitably, there are children involved and perhaps emotional strains. Some, however, married the first one we met and lived happily ever after, which is admirable.
Arguably the pre-marriage break up is probably better than after marriage. In the Malay world, there is a cultural obligation for an engagement period, so the young couple may be better familiarised. Understandably, personal relations during the months of dating, and post-engagement may not be the same. If a mismatch is indicated then abandonment may be a good option. Some may go into depression, and even having suicidal tendencies while some would never want to marry. Nonetheless, many didn't despair after the breakup, but went on to find someone else who fit their lives better, living happily ever after. And the pains of the initial breakup got lost in the wildness
If you had gone through break ups before then you know that broken hearts are just bumps on the long road of life. Only problem, such memories, however sweet or sour remain in us. Memories of past relationships are non-erasable. Inevitably, it is important to be governed by the brain-hormones than the hormones in the heart.
Yes, break ups can be hard. Neuro-scientists have shown that romantic rejections triggers the same regions of the brain associated with the physical pain. Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, where I worked, introduced a mentor-mentee system for us lecturers to handle the students which went beyond their academic matters. There were cases of break ups, and cases of parental break ups as well. As a mentor I had listened to many young people’s dilemma failing in love, something they couldn't talk to the parents. Those from broken marriages were hard hit.
Depending on how strong-willed the child is, he or she can overcome the grief, the rejection, loss of faith, self pity. After giving our heart and soul to someone we truly care and love, and break up happens, it’s like heavy rocks falling on the chest, and the world suddenly become cruel. We are basically humans, with hearts of biological tissues and common cells. Those subjected to break ups need a listening ear and some sympathy and a shoulder to cry on.
Romeo killed himself when he thought Juliet has died. Juliet woke up from sleep and killed herself. Even Layla died young after her forced marriage to some rich Arab, when her mind was still with Majnun, who she truly loved. It shows that love is a natural biological law the world over.
Here’s what Francis William Bourdillon said about Love:
“The night has a thousand eyes
And the day but one
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.
The mind has a thousand eyes
And the heart but one
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.”
That's what break up comes up to. The light of the whole life dies. The trauma of being broken hearted is hard to swallow. Even pieces of broken glasses can be moulded back into its original form, but the tedious process takes time, this process of putting things back together.
For the above reasons, it is unfortunate when break ups happen among the aged. The trauma upon the children is unimaginable, when the aged, supposedly wise, themselves break up just too late.
About Emotional Ageing
Self Interest - Sympathy & Empathy
by SHEELA KANAGASABAI
I had invited my cousin, whom I had not seen in the past few months for tea and cakes. However, she declined the invitation because her recent blood test showed that her blood sugar level had escalated to a dangerous level. Her primary care doctor had warned her that it would increase her risk of diabetic coma if she continues to abuse her intake of sugar. My cousin also had a fear of parking her car in my condo basement, because she possessed a phobia of dark places. However, she suggested having tea at a restaurant, which infuriated my understanding of her choice of venue.
I was not about to sympathise with her because I was not able to understand her version of the problem she was dealing with. Sympathy reflects understanding another person's situation but viewed through your own lens. As we further spoke, it became clear to me that I simply was not convinced about her fears nor excuses. I certainly felt conflicted by her feedback and did not want to prolong her ability to unconvinced me otherwise. Her logic made me more annoyed and I felt intimidated at her response.
After our conversation, I went to see my doctor since I was having a nagging and excruciating pain in my hips. When I was informed of the prognosis after an X-ray, I felt that the pain had disable me. Yet, the morning before leaving home my daughter had asked for a favour to get her road tax done at the nearest post office After having a steroid injection to calm the pain, I still figured that I could manage this task. However, I was turning slightly distressed while waiting my turn. I then text my daughter to tell her that I had been waiting for almost forty minutes, and still had not been attended to. As we text further, it became clear to me that she simply did not experience what I was suffering on the inside of my body. Her own needs about whether I had managed to get her road tax issued, were her only real concern. Literally she did not feel my pain nor my emotions. Her self-interest and lack of sympathy, made me feel used.
Since I was supposed to host a tea gathering at the end of the week, I texted my guest to tell her what had happened and my present condition. On the contrary, my friend was truly sympathetic about my condition. “I am truly sorry for what you’re experiencing right now. My own mother had the same physical problems as yours. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I cannot even begin to imagine what you’re going through and how difficult all this must be for you”. My friend automatically responded from the heart. Nothing pleases us more than to observe in others, a fellow-feeling with all the emotions, to be attended to and taken notice of with sympathy, complacency and approbation.
As individuals, we have a natural tendency to look after ourselves. That is merely prudence. And yet as social creatures, we are also endowed with a natural sympathy – today we would say empathy – towards others. When we see others distressed or happy, we feel for them – albeit less strongly. Likewise, others seek our empathy and feel for us. When their feelings are particularly strong, empathy prompts them to restrain their emotions so as to bring them into line with our, less intense reactions. Gradually, as we grow from childhood to adulthood, we each learn what is and is not acceptable to other people.
As I rested and analysed my day, I realised that in contrast, empathy is what you feel only when you can step outside of yourself and enter the internal world of the other person. There, without abandoning or losing your own perspective, you can experience the other's emotions, conflicts, or aspirations from within the vantage point of that person's circumstances. When empathy is aroused, you let go of your usual attachment to yourself and you want to help and connect in some way. You respond immediately because you feel the pain.
From empathy, tolerance grows. Tolerance of differences is one of the most essential elements of psychological health. By developing empathy, you can deepen your understanding and acceptance of how and why people do what they do, and build greater respect for others. I learned a very important lesson today that sympathy is also a cognitive capability essential to understand the situation of other people. Clearly both our sympathy for others, and the sympathy of others for ourselves is essential. Rather, empathy gives you a stronger, wiser base for resolving conflicts when you have them. You're able to bridge differences more effectively and with less destructiveness. And beyond that, empathy makes you mindful of your commonality and connection with fellow humans, people who suffer and struggle with life in many of the same ways we all do.