My entry today will be a short one.
I know, I know.
I can already hear my sex bunny friend Stanley's voice in my head.
Any entry that isn't at least seven inches long needs to be reassessed. Unless they're thick as coke cans (I can quote Stanley independently because he did say those words at some point of our friendship and when you hear words like that, it scars you and therefore stays with you).
I haven't been able to write in the last few weeks because I was in a very bad place: Literally and emotionally.
I am not exaggerating when I say my life had recently been a roller coaster ride.
Again, Stanley my sex bunny friend had often associated his life with roller coaster rides: The highs, the sudden slumps, the adrenaline, the rush, the enjoyable humps and bumps.
Except that in Stanley's case, it's a good roller coaster ride -- ride being the operative word which also depends on the man of the day.
For me, it was a bad roller coaster ride.
Readers who follow my blog would likely know I had been posted to Myanmar for work.
Which explains the bad place.
But fret not.
I am now writing this in Singapore -- safe and secure Singapore.
I am in no position to comment on the situation in Myanmar which was -- and hopefully is -- my second home in recent years.
But I will say this.
I left the country with a heavy heart.
Not long after the military coup, the management of my company who earns a lot more than I do and does a lot less than I do, decided that they would take a wait-and-see approach with regard to my posting.
The last straw came when the Myanmar army fired into crowds and killed civilians.
In early March, Singapore issued a statement, asking Singaporeans to consider returning.
My company, despite its strong presence in Myanmar, decided to extract me and take the cue from the government.
The following days were a whirlwind experience: Packing up, doing paper work, handing over projects at hand to my local staff, tying up loose ends, saying goodbye.
Most importantly, I still had a job -- my company, despite recalling me back to HQ, continued to have big plans for me so job wise, I'm still okay.
I don't want to go into detail the stress I went through because doing that would revisit the heavy emotions I felt not too long ago.
Instead, I shall focus on the now.
The now, where I'm typing this blog post with a cup of espresso (courtesy of Nisa my best girlfriend who recently popped by with my favourite coffee brand).
The now, where I just had a nice, warm meal (sayur lodeh, laksa prawn with brown rice and red wine -- all home cooked by me because when I'm stressed and need to relax, I wear an apron).
The now, where, after completing my mandatory two-week hotel quarantine, I'm able to meet my loved ones for warm hugs.
One of the first few people I met were of course my family.
My mum, the usually cool Mrs Lee, revealed she was worried sick and was so glad I finally came back.
In fact, I was back just in time to celebrate her birthday and I guess I was her best birthday gift.
My siblings, who are both usually quietly supportive, revealed how relieved they were: Not only because I was back, but because they could finally stop pretending to be not worried for me when they sometimes get icy hands every time they get news that someone dies in Myanmar.
"Now that you're back, I can finally stop reading the news," said my sis, who isn't a big fan of news and current affairs.
Meanwhile, the actual fan of news and current affairs -- affairs being the key word here -- rejoices that I'm back in one piece.
"I never thought I'd one day say this but hugging you had never been more comforting," Stanley said the other day.
"And I take back my words that it's my wet dream fantasy to see a soldier in uniform shoot," he added, unable to help himself.
Carl my dense friend was also unable to help himself.
"I don't know exactly what's happening in Myanmar but I am also glad you're back," said Carl who, if ever he gets the memo or gets something right, would mean he's reaching the end of his lifespan, the way very weak cancer patients would suddenly perk up and beam exuberant energy with full awareness just days before they actually die.
J my partner had no words for me when he saw me the first time I was out of quarantine.
His usual quiet demeanor said it all: His eyes.
Like my siblings, J, the love of my life for the past 20 years, is the pillar of my life.
He had always been encouraging but shortly after I came back to Singapore, he looked me in the eye, held my hand, and said "Don't leave."
I don't know about my future where my career is concerned, but at least for now, I'm here.
Safe, happy, and recovering from an emotional roller coaster ride.
I will start writing weekly again.
