In•jus•tice

(ˌ)in-ˈjə-stəs : absence of justice : violation of right or of the rights of another : UNFAIRNESS

Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Was the first word given to us – a bunch of newly arrived overseas students, in an Academic English preparation class, at the DEEP program run by NCELTR in Macquarie University back in November 1997. Our teachers, Mr. Nicholas Cope and Mr. Timothy Glover assigned each of us one word to elaborate into a short essay, as an early assessment on our English language capabilities. The word – injustice is planted deep in my memory.

Injustice was also the exact word experienced by my Professor during his captivity by the military junta in Myanmar. For 650 days, he was stripped off of his rights and accused of being a spy, while in all honesty he is the person who is most harmless to everything, the kindest and most sincere person I knew.

Although Myanmar and my country are both ASEAN members, our local news on Myanmar were limited only around the start of the coup, the arrest of Daw Suu and the Rohingya refugees. There were no other news on the country in turmoil, nor on the political prisoners, let alone on one Professor Sean Turnell. My best source of information was from my friends in Australia and from Sean’s wife’s Facebook posts. I wanted to help, but did not know how and not having any Burmese friends made this task closer to impossible. However, I believe in the power of prayers. So I prayed every day for his safety and immediate release as well as signed and recirculated a petition when one was circulated by a united Australian academics.

Upon his release in November 2022, I praised with joy and made a promise to myself that I shall pay him a visit one day. In my culture, we have a saying, “Jaga silaturahmi selagi ada umur”. We shall maintain a good relationship as long as we are alive, especially with those who have made profound impacts in our lives. However, I am also well aware that the day might not come so soon.

Listening to the audio book during my commute to work. 14 November 2023.

In September 2023 through his Facebook post I learned that Sean will release a book about his story during captivity. At once I signed up to order a copy through my friend who lives in Sydney who already planned to go to Jakarta in January. By November, the physical book was released together with the audio book. I can’t wait ’til January to get my hands on the book, so I quickly purchased An Unlikely Prisoner in Audible. I started listening on my commute to work from November 14th due to release time difference. I remember I shed tears the first time I listened to his voice, which instantly brought me back to his lectures back in my university days. I felt like having a direct conversation with him. The way he told the story was utterly captivating and I can truly feel the personality I once knew. There’s a unique wit especially on the words carefully chosen to represent the situations and how Sean still managed to fuel the story with economics classroom talk.

The Book, as photographed by my friend upon collection from her local book store.

The storytelling stirred up my emotions from anger and frustration especially on the awful parts of his early morning arrest, “The Box”, the rats and the scorpions, the meal bucket, the confiscated reading materials, the endless inconclusive interrogation, the five times of catching Covid-19, the collective punishment of not having outside activities, the chains, and the list goes on; to a sense of relief that he received full support from his government, his family, our almamater Macquarie University, the Australian fellow academics, the diplomatic pouch, King Charles III and especially Jacoob (R.I.P); and to laughter specifically on the pseudonyms “The N.O.K and the liabilities”.

I knew I will enjoy the book and don’t need to wait until the end of my listening period to write a review for this audio book. At the end of the first day of listening, I wrote this:

Uniquely Sean!

A firsthand storytelling from a great man, delivered in just what I imagined it to be. The way the story is being read, makes me feel like having a live conversation. An Unlikely Prisoner is a story of bravery of a man, wife, daughter, family and friends, facing an unimaginable test of time. It’s a story on humanity. It brings back memories on the days where we held our breath for Sean’s return to Australia. This book filled the void to all of the questions arose in our minds.

I am a huge fan of Roald Dahl, especially on his “Boy and Going Solo” book, an autobiography of growing up and being an RAF fighter pilot. On one occassion I wrote to Sean, “One other impression of the audio book is that I felt like reading Roald Dahl’s Going Solo. He was injured during the war when he served in the RAF. Somehow your experience depicts similar circumstances. Hardship, strength and victory, and both are real experience. You had your incredible Ha, Roald Dahl had… the nurses. He was young and not yet married ”

As days of listening continues, I sometimes tagged Sean and his wife, Ha, through my Facebook Story with short messages like how clever they were on the N.O.K. and the liabilities, as well as how Matt Damon could actually be a good fit to play him instead of Danny deVito, if the book ever becomes a screen play. I am sure everyone can agree that Matt Damon already possess the intelligent and resilient persona required to perform as Sean.

The day I couldn’t believe what I hear and see. This photo was taken by my friend while the book was still in Sydney.

Then came November 29th, the day I disbelieved on what I was hearing as I reversed my car coming home from work. I thought I heard my name in the acknowledgement chapter, along with what it felt like 1000 other names. Me … one miniscule being who relied on prayers because I did not know how to help … On that, I quickly messaged my friend who, at the time, already collected the book. I asked her to open the book and look for my name in the last chapter. Anxiously waiting overnight, the confirmation came the morning after, and there it was, my name is really printed in the last chapter of An Unlikely Prisoner. Again, in an instant I messaged Sean, “For the love of God, how could you even remember to include me? ” I am deeply touched. I am left with no word to say. It felt like every word that might come out, will not equate of what I am feeling. It will just come out wrong. But if I have to say it now, what I felt lies along the words of modesty, humility and a lot of sense of humor still left in a person who was treated brutally unjust, yet can still be the kindest upon victory.

Up to this point, his Facebook posts were full of book signing and campaigning activities for the freedom of Myanmar around the globe, until one day I saw a post that said, “Next weekend in Singapore”, dated March 3, 2024. My heart felt like it’s struck by lightning, knowing that Sean will be closer to my city. I told my husband immediately, and he said, “Go! “. Oh my darling, how I love you so!

No, I’m not here for Taylor Swift.

Part II – The Reunion

For someone who always have a meticulous plan prior to any traveling, the rapid arrangement to meet up felt like a whirlwind.  Not only it was due in less than a week, the “Swiftnomics” added another monkey on my shoulder (and pocket). Determining on which day and time to meet, the time difference in communication replies, while plane ticket which rose to nearly 200 USD per hour almost felt like a dealbreaker and I heartbrokenly will have to postpone meeting the man who once a prisoner, turned to The Australian’s Australian of the Year and be the man who has met The King. With all calculated risks, I made the decision to just go for it, booked the plane ticket, and arranged with another good friend to stay over at her place during my stay in Singapore. After a few days of uncertainties, finally the sun shines on our side as I packed his book in my bag and get him to sign my copy.

Towards the end of my steps prior to approaching him, in my head I was trying to decide on what to say first, and it felt perfect when it finally came as, “There he is, in flesh! ” Ha ha ha .. I am still laughing over those words!

The most inspiring meeting at Orchard Road, Singapore 9 March 2024.

A little bit shy over 20 years apart, we felt mutual friendship quality that supports and respects each other. Inspired by the story in his book, the first time I did was gift him with reading materials. I brought him two Indonesian literatures. This Earth of Mankind by an Indonesian legendary author Pramoedya Ananta Toer, and The Rainbow Troops by a more recent best selling author Andrea Hirata. Plus, one other book by my mother about Demographic Bonus, as a gift from one intellectual academics to another, regardless of the language of the book it was written in. The books came with a hope that he will never run out of something to read again, and that the world needs people like him and “Bu Mus” from the Rainbow Troops.

Upon receiving my mom’s book, he pointed to a name so familiar to global audience, a name that belongs to none other than our beloved incumbent finance minister, Ibu Sri Mulyani Indrawati, as the one who wrote the foreword for the book, and said, “I have met her! She was also one of the persons who helped me get out from the country!” And funnily enough, I replied, “So do we!” (have met her, since both mom and Ibu Sri Mulyani are from the same almamater, The University of Indonesia.) Ha ha ha .. another unbelievably hilarious moment.

Beside the books, I have also prepared a tribute that was hastily written prior to the reunion on 9th of March 2024. I don’t usually write something that involves deep thoughts and emotions at the speed of light, but I assured myself that this has to be finished prior to the meeting. So, I began writing in the cloud through my mobile phone, in the yoga studio while waiting for a class to commence, during lunch break at the office, at home after work, convert the file to be accessible offline to finish on the plane, and finalized using my tablet in the taxi from the airport to the city center before meeting him. I knew perfection was far to reach, but at least the draft was ready, and the story line was complete.

It felt like he’s marking my essay!

Before other conversation began, I showed the draft for him to read, and he asked, “You’re not going to make me cry or anything, are you?“. “Well .. I can’t promise anything, but I can start to look for a tissue or two “, I replied. And I kept my silence while he read the untitled piece of writing. Even afterwards, we stayed quiet. Again, I am lost for words. Writing a tribute and have the person read it in front of me was priceless. All of a sudden the monkeys from Swiftnomics were gone, disappeared deep into the middle earth.

Initially, I asked Sean to title the piece, but then I used my author’s right to title it to be The Spark, inspired by George Joseph Stigler’s quote that is so near and dear to me. I vision this piece to be the first of a tetralogy, a history ‘herstory’ in the making.

We packed our conversations about two decades of our lives into two crowded hours, beginning with him telling the story about experiencing a super memory while in “The Box”, to how (information) noise has reduced that super memory ability. From my experience, I think Sean went into a meditative state where one is drawn into a super focus mental state, hence there was nothing else in between oneself and the focus or our breathing. And being outside the prison means receiving all sorts of noise once again, hence lowering the memory ability to focus. Sean also told the story on how “An Unlikely Prisoner” became the title of his book. Other thing we talked about was about work and life. But I was particularly curious on his meeting with King Charles III. He told the story about the invitation that sounded closer to “Do you mind if The King invites you to the Palace?” And I gawked and said, “How could anyone mind?” and he said, “No, I don’t think I would mind to the invitation from The King to come to the Palace“. And we laughed. Upon this, I remember that I had this in mind, to title The Spark as “Meeting the Man Who Has Met The King“, and we laughed because it did not sound right… at all.

As he went on asking for what’s next in my chapter of life, I stated my dream to give another go to pursue my PhD which has been long overdue, and for that I will need his support in an academic reference letter for me. This dream was relit in late February by my other good friend who informed me on Australia Award Scholarship opportunity, so I have not yet have a sound research proposal to share. But I have begun to form a slight idea on the topic and what it aims to achieve. And as a good mentor, he gave me his blessings and support.

Left: The Professor and I during my graduation in 2001. Top right: My last and best assignment as “The Artefact”. Bottom right: the seal from the patent registration office as the result of my initiation to register the company’s intellectual property right resulted from the innovation program that I lead.

During the meeting I also showed him one artefact from 2001, it was none other than the hard copy of my last assignment with him. The one that laid the pathway to my career in innovation. He was surprised that I still keep the piece. And I said, I only keep my best works which were this one and another one from my masters study. This old memory reminded him to tell me that he recently found a CD I gave him upon my departure from Australia. In it was Sarah McLachlan’s I Will Remember You in the hope that we may have good friendship in the future, because I will absolutely remember him. And the reunion confirmed that we are indeed remain good friends.

Towards the end of the meeting, we exchanged the story on how we met our spouses. How I met my husband, and how he met his wife. We hope to meet all of us, someday, at someplace somewhere on this blue planet.

Before saying goodbye, I casually said, “Oh, I am glad I don’t have any assignments to submit “, and Sean said, “Oh no you don’t, I expect one by 5pm today! ” And we laughed and parted our ways.

Along with the success of my mentee with her scholarship and acceptance at the university of her dream, the reunion has created a highly combustible ignition, or the “Umpfh” that relit my dream to pursue my PhD. Besides Stigler’s quote, these tetralogy titles are also inspired by my dad who is a fuel combustion engineer, who once taught me how to drive with an engine drawings rather than have me sit in the driver’s seat. I think Dad and I are just wired differently … With this ignition, I will do my best to attain “The Fuel” and forever be “The Flame” for the greater good.

Mission accomplished and my signed copy is coming home with me.

The Ignition is dedicated to:

Once again, Professor Sean Turnell for the 2 crowded hours that worth an age in me.

Mr. Nicholas Cope and Mr. Timothy Glover, for the challenging first words we have to explore 26 years ago. Let’s go sailing again, Sir!

Gita Sugiyanto, a.k.a. my friend for happily purchasing the book in Sydney and bringing it to Jakarta for me. I love you, girl!

Fitria Arsianti and Anissa Sudjatmiko, a.k.a. the other good friends for relighting my dream. Please keep pushing me tirelessly.

Adeline, a.k.a. another good friend, for letting me crash at your place during my stay in Singapore.

My Dad, finally dad … I can write something about you

And my darling husband who can always lit up my day!

said the woman I greatly admire, none other than my mother.

“Make yourself useful! ”

said my grandmother, the woman I spent my growing up years with.

Back in my youthful days, I could not comprehend what it meant. I lived my days just like any other young woman who was looking to put her dent in this universe. Big dreams, but struggled to understand what the world means… let alone how it works.

Prior to my higher education, my personal choice was to study Early Childhood Education, because I see teachers’ blood running in the family. My grandmother was a kindergarten teacher, my grandfather taught in an all boys elementary school inside the royal compound in Solo, my uncle was an English language lecturer in a university in Solo and my mother who is now in her 80s still teaches demography in University of Indonesia.

Top left: my grandmother, the way I see her until now. Bottom left: my mother in her professor gown. Bottom right: my grandfather in his teaching uniform. Top right: my grandfather with his pupils. Center: my grandmother with her pupils.

However, my dear brother rejected my idea by saying, “How are you going to make a living by being a teacher in this country?!”

I applied anyway, and got accepted into one of the universities in Australia for Early Childhood Education. But my fate was determined otherwise. My mother wanted me to study economics, which… was not my forte at any point in my life. (sigh..) My brother wanted me to study… well… anything other than education, and my father surrendered his voice to the both of them.

So off I went on to learn economics at Macquarie University in Sydney and life goes on with me struggling to pass economics subjects one after the other. Microeconomics 101, 201, 301, Macroeconomics 101, 201, 301, Public Sector Economics, Econometrics and so on and so forthnomics there were available to learn, until one day I had an excellent Econ 309 Professor who was very patient in explaining the basic concepts of economics that works for my brain. I repeat, for my brain!

My best economics assignment of all time.

Although unfortunately I met the Professor at the later stage of my study, I am still grateful that he was there to teach me, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to achieve my bachelor’s degree. With his guidance, not only my understanding improved, my grades also improved, but my interest to learn more about economics grew, until I even applied to pursue an M.Phil degree in History of Economics. But, my GPA was too late to improve, so I continued my study based on my other interest when studying Consumer Behavior with Professor Craig MacMillan. I grew my curiosity in understanding people and decided to pursue my Master’s degree in Marketing Communications at another university in another city.

Throughout my master’s study, from time to time I visited Sydney because I still have a lot of friends there. I also made time to drop by at the Professor’s office for a conversation or two, and years decades went by and we still keep in contact until one day he was captured and locked in as a political prisoner in Insein Prison in Myanmar for something he didn’t do.

During that time, I kept praying for his release day after day. I kept looking for the news and with help from my friends who were still in Australia, I got local news feeds, especially on the paid articles inaccessible to me. At times I had discussions with a good friend when there’s no news, and she wisely said that it could be a good thing when there’s no news. “I believe our embassy is working very hard to bring him back”, she said.

Every work I did since his imprisonment was dedicated to him, as a tribute and respect to the person who has helped me get through university. My best work during this time was when I stood in front of 200 children who were doing innovation projects for adolescent problems, commissioned by UNICEF.

In my element… teaching, children and innovation. The UNICEF project.

It was also the time where I had a chance to facilitate a creativity module for an international program with a Switzerland organization that aims to produce young changemakers in 12 countries across Africa, Asia, Latin America as well as some parts of European countries. This year marks my 4th year of involvement in the program.

Being a co-facilitator in this Young Changemaker program restored my faith where with this kind of young generation, the world will be in good hands. Through this program, the universe introduced me to a brilliant young lady who lives in the community where I will spend my post urban and office career days. She has become a good friend, and a very teachable mentee. She has that spirit and rare quality I seldom found in the (mislabeled) Gen Z.

Coming from a suburban area in Yogyakarta with no role model to push her motivation to the roof, she is a gem in the making. I told her that I am beyond proud and happy to have found her, and as with any of my mentee, I stated my purpose to help them throughout their journey, whether it is only during an innovation competition or for other purposes. “I am here when you need me. My doors are always open. If you are willing to do the work, any target you set will be achievable. If I can’t guide you, I will find somebody who can. Your window of opportunity is open wide and I believe that you can do it.” Gosh…. I feel like a coach!

Little did I realize, being a mentor brings back the memory where my professor said this to me, back in 2003, the year I left Australia for good. I clearly remember he said, “You could be like Megawati!” The incumbent President of the Republic of Indonesia. I said, “No way sir… that’s way too high up!“

However, that moment is deeply implanted under my subconscious and resonates until now. That moment encouraged me to pursue my exploration in teaching and being a mentor for the younger generation, that is not confined inside any walls.

Recently, the girl I met through the Young Changemaker program has now been accepted at University of Edinburgh, studying for a Master’s degree in education, on a state scholarship that is known to be hard to get.

When she thanked me, I said, “I believed in you, because someone believed in me first”. That someone has fueled me with a message of over 20 years old that I shall “Sound the clarion and fill the fife” which now has transformed to my own guiding principle in life, “May I be of use for the greater good “.

Upon my return, I asked almost everyone to write a message for me, including Sean. This message resonates very well until now.

Thank you Sean for igniting my curiosity to understand how the world works. May the world be kind to you and may you be blessed with health and happiness. May I be the channel to ignite many more curiosity and chances for young people to prosper, empower themselves and be of use for the greater good.

This writing was finished at 30k feet above Riau, enroute to Singapore in the morning of March 9, 2024.

Dedicated to Professor Sean Turnell, a.k.a. The Professor.
Dr. Ha Vu and Phuong, Sean’s wife and daughter who – through Sean’s book, The Unlikely Prisoner, taught me perseverance in faith, hope and love.
Gita Sugiyanto, Dr. Ariane Utomo, Professor Terence H Hull, and Graydon Smith – a.k.a. The good friends.
Professor Craig MacMillan who kept my curiosity to learn about humans.
Yessi, a.k.a. The girl.
Puspita, my partner to mentor Yessi. It’s our turn to continue our dream , girl!
Daniel Glinz for creating the Young Changemaker program that let the universe state my purpose of being in life.
And my dear husband who let me pursue my borderless dream. God has made us to complete each other with our little similarities and our big differences. God has never made a wrong decision when He arranged us.

Happy New Year from meowmy and papaw’s Magnificent Seven! My all of you have a wonderful 2024. Prosperous, full of love, peace and healthy.

What’s my 2023 looked like? Just like everyone else, my year was full of challenges, where by the end of the year I just pat my back and say to myself, “Thank you for surviving. Don’t stop, let’s continue the journey”.

2023 reintroduced me to leukemia, once again. Not me … but someone so near and dear to me, and I had a conversation with God and said, “Oh please … not again …” Thankfully, He listens, (of course! Never doubt that!) He sent strength and love throughout the journey.

Accompanying her for blood transfusions, invited my courage to donate my blood to the blood bank. Something that I have put aside for far too long. With the extra encouragement from my husband, I began my journey as a blood donor. And I love you for that.

Then, Dementia and Alzheimer’s disease made an introduction to someone who is also near and dear to me. The diagnosis confirmed our confusion over change of behavior. Prior to the diagnosis, a lot of things did not make any sense to us, even the patient cannot understand what is happening. Thanks to Alzi Indonesia I learned so much, THAT MUCH, until I decided to allocate my volunteering bandwidth from being a mentor for young ladies to create a mobile phone application, to Alzi Indonesia, in the hope that while I am learning as much as they taught me, I could contribute just as much, at the very least.

In my search for information, I came to find Wendy Mitchell who is a person with dementia sharing her experience. She published three books and numerous YouTube clips on her involvement to educate us on the disease. The books are also available on Audible and are read by her. Listening to her audiobook really takes me into her shoes. Little by little I began to see why things happen the way it happens.

It didn’t stop there. Breast Cancer and Heart Disease also made their introduction. Again, I asked God to help them in their battle. And once again, God listens. Thank you!

“Life is what happens when when you are busy making other plans” really hit the emergency brake for me through all of the medical attention needed by my inner circle. I began to rethink and invest in my own health. Luckily, my husband is always with me when it comes to getting fit. So I started to swim again, started to go on morning walks on the weekend, and with the help of the universe, we enrolled to an unlimited classes for Yoga practice in the proximity of our neighborhood. This class is truly a blessing for us. Finally, we can do something that we both enjoy. So, cheers to a healthier 2024 and beyond. And I love you for that.

On a lighter note, I am beyond happy to be able to hear Sean Turnell – my former lecturer’s voice again through his audiobook on Audible. This means learning again from the person who have endured unimaginable suffering and treated so unjust, yet still a loving person to the family and the country who has mistreated him. And this means eternal freedom for him.

With all of the whirlwinds, I closed the year by learning something new. I took Intuitive Animal Communication workshop for beginner so that I can talk to my Magnificent Seven. I practice everyday, and I learn something new everyday. They can not only talk, but they also spread wisdom! It’s incredible and I can’t wait to master it so I can be a good meowmy for them.

For 2024, I think I’m pass my years of setting high expectations and things to achieve. I only wish to be of use for the greater good and ground myself with better human relationship (and human to animal relationship), and perhaps this will improve myself as a spiritual being.

And one more thing, I also wish nothing better than to have peace on earth.

Thank you 2023

Without referring to other people or theories, I see self-acceptance like a three-sided dice.

On one side, I see it as the victorious move when one rises from the ashes. The choice to grow mature, choosing wisdom over negativity of never-ending denials, sadness, guilt or even grief. It also means that one has come to terms with making peace with one self. Just like healing, victorious self-acceptance needs process and time. It cannot be hurried and no victory can be ordered with express delivery.

On the other side, one might see it as a defeat, failure, shame, raging madness, the last option to tick on the list. On this side, self-acceptance feels like a murky future where every single route leads to dead ends. It is a very long road without a gleam of hope at side, an endless desperation. One might have dropped liters of tears and spent days and nights in solitude, shutting every door, listening nothing but that voice inside the head.

In between the sides, there is surrender. A side with a white flag on it, where borderless pasture of lessons learned slowly feeds hope and inner peace. Here, one will be done with the over self-evaluation, the millions of question marks, the rages and desperations until one has come to senses by listening to that voice inside the heart. And then, something magical happens. Everything will seem filtered into what is considered essentials and toxins, and then there is a power within that leads to the correct turn, that perfect exit, like a springboard catapulting a gymnast into victory and beyond.

But, what is that power within?

Regardless of any religion, I call it faith. During surrendering to self-acceptance, where that gleam of hope rises, one usually found faith and restored through series of reminders that there is something bigger than life in the universe and it never misses its timing to correct each mishap.

As humans, we’ll get our chances to experience these phases through different occurrences. Some might go through sour relationships, some might go through losing their loved ones, some might be faced with a terrible news of their health condition, some might experience a downturn in their business or through a slap in the face to accept new identity. At any point, there was a loss in faith.

Restoring this faith involves talking with the voice inside your head, talking with the voice inside your heart, talking to other people, talking to God, listening to the universe and above all, be honest with yourself. In a world seen through anger, one can suddenly felt kindness. In a world full of chaos, one can suddenly see that we have only each other and reprioritize what matters from what does not.

Self-acceptance is a reminder that we are human. We are allowed to feel, to express and that we are always encouraged to shine. Numerous stories have been told about how people who have victorious self-acceptance blossomed to be happier, shown through their radiant eyes and they have gone beyond by allowing themselves to be a channel of blessings. They shared a beautiful sense of giving back, creating a better world for others, in the slightest way they know how.

For me, having gone through the defeat, the surrender and finally found that pull to the door of victorious self-acceptance has allowed me to have a more peaceful life. I call it, making peace with myself. I don’t question as much as I used to. I did not need to burn any bridge. The bridge has burnt itself. I have chosen to shine because I know I still have some unfinished business to do. A business where I can make a difference to other people, be that channel of blessings just like my mother taught me. A difference even if it’s only to one person, a difference even if it’s just a little, with the best way I know how; through my writings here.

Whoever you are, I hope you can have a victorious self-acceptance. The world does not always have to be perfect; you only need to be at the state where you do not need anything else. You only need to be content.

May you find peace with yourself.

*Image from Ravitaly in Freepik.com

Why I like watching My Secret Identity after finishing my homework throughout my middle school years.

The frequently asked questions about the tone of my skin, my height and about my straight hair.

Even the date I decided to tell the world about who I am.

All those innate feelings were wrapped into two powerful words exclaimed by my best friend 17 years ago as “Blood Speaks!”

…

I didn’t know why I watched The Man Without A Face for so many times, from the time it was first released in Laser Disc, to the time I had it in Video Compact Disc, and later on during my university years I rented over and again the VHS tape from Video Ezy in my neighborhood store, until one day one of my friends gave me my own copy of the movie. I don’t know what, but for me, there was just something about that title.

I didn’t know prior to the publication of this site, that November 9 is celebrated as World Adoption Day.

I didn’t know why I chose to keep my decency and didn’t need any religion nor social norm to tell me so. I just knew I had to, like there’s something inexplicable and so innate.

And now that the Pandora Box is opened, what it is that I am trying to seek?

…

Of all the things I want to change for myself in particular, I want to feel freedom when saying the word “adoption” or “adopted”. I want to feel innocent and I want to talk about it like it was not a taboo. I want to feel saying “I’m adopted” just like when I said, “Just married!” Because in fact … it is similar in a way that when adoption happens, both are tied together for the rest of the time.

And lastly, I want to say to myself that it is okay to be human, especially a vulnerable one. Before I even knew that I was adopted, I remember that I used to be emotionally tight. To me, everything must go a certain way until one day a dear friend of mine gave me an advice that crying is okay, and that I need to let it out from my system. About a year later, another friend gave me “Don’t Sweat Small Stuff” book for my birthday. Now as I reflected back to those years, I am thinking that perhaps it had something to do with my upbringing where everybody were (seemed to be) in control to keep it as a secret. Children see, children do, and what I observed throughout my childhood was applied in my adulthood. I had to have the control. It was shown and it was eating me away.

Now, as I relearn to swim the human emotions, I am teaching myself to listen to myself without denials and to feel pure emotions. Everyday, I am teaching myself that I am allowed to shout when I am angry, I am allowed to laugh when I am happy, and I am allowed to cry when I am sad. Everyday, I am telling myself that imperfections are normal. Simple things, but I have to relearn about them.

Above all, I want to remember to never lose faith in myself. Now to me, Blood Speaks has a new meaning that somehow throughout my emotional process, there’s always a restart button hidden in my heart. It feels like the blood will always tell me how to navigate life. No matter how hard life hits me, in the end I will be okay. In a way, it’s like what Hank Fortener said, although adoption almost always starts from a tragedy, at the end, we should always celebrate it.

…

This piece is dedicated to that best friend who uttered “Blood Speaks”, when my world was crumbling down. Thank you for being there and listen to my sea of emotions. Yes, you know who you are.

For all the years I have spent my life on earth, I couldn’t believe that this kind of truth will ever come out. Prior to the news, nobody ever said anything or act different to me. It was a true act of “Silence is Golden” and “White Lies”. I was kept in the dark, to keep me safe and sound.

On this day, 17 years ago, I learned that I was adopted and the news broke me into pieces. I couldn’t cope with the fact that I was a result of a sin, I felt shameful and I blamed myself thousands of times and over that I shouldn’t be here at all. All of a sudden, everything I knew became the strangest thing, especially when I see myself in the mirror. I couldn’t stop searching for who I am deep inside, I kept questioning whose face, arms, hands, hair, legs and body are these. If you ever sing Mulan’s theme song, “Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me, why is my reflection someone I don’t know …” I felt exactly just that. From that point on, I want to see that man without a face, I want to know how look alike or different are we.

For 17 years, I swam through all dimensions of emotion. I felt disgusted with myself, angry with myself and with everyone I knew. I felt empty and I wanted to terminate my life. I couldn’t believe that breaking news of this magnitude, one that changes everything in my identity, was done in such a short time and they never asked me how I was doing. I had no one to talk to, I was drowned in my own confusion. Perhaps, it was because my parents saw me as too independent so that “no news means good news”, and as long as I didn’t say a thing, they thought I was okay. But turned out, I was not okay. But perhaps… it was also hard for them to have to let me know the truth. Maybe they were as broken hearted as I was.

In the early years, I created new personalities after personalities, wishing I could escape the reality and start anew, or gain my confidence to be the person I used to know in every rightful manner according to me. But, no matter how beautiful the names I invented and how meaningful they are, I couldn’t identify myself in those names. They are too beautiful for someone too filthy like me. I found it hard to just be honest with myself, that I am one lucky bastard who was adopted by a loving family who didn’t give a damn of how I was created. I have lost count of how many fictional names I created until I grew tired to restart. I can only remember the first name I gave myself. Priyanka Ramani Sekar Arundhati, meaning the beautiful girl – flower of the morning star, in the hope that I would shine every morning, greeting the universe with joy, erasing any sorrow.

In my journey, I was lucky to have had an epiphany which showed me that I was wasting too much energy to be sad and angry and even thinking about ending it all, while I could drive myself to turn it into a much more positive energy. Out of that drive, I went to the orphanage where I was once lived for a short while, hoping to find an answer, a record or some sort, that states a name or an address. Something to tell me whether it was real or a nightmare. My effort came out with no result, the headmistress told me that the record was too far away back, she couldn’t promise me anything. But she assured me that what matters are what happened today. Am I loved, have I been loved? I answered yes, beyond she can imagine. I didn’t feel like an adopted child at all, I thought I was their own. One key message that sticks to me from that short hour with her was that she reminded me of what being alive is about. When I still encounter problems, it means that I am alive. Imagine how boring life could be if there’s no problem to be solved?!

From that visit, I wrote a memoir back in 2004, titling it with the first name I gave myself, a memoir where I wish everything could be re-written differently in “His big book of life”. Today, I read it again and I am still not ready to share it with anyone else, it felt like exposing myself naked, as well as showing the wound inside my heart. I may never knew how long it will take to heal completely, but I know that I must keep going for the sake that a lot of people have given their kind and generous hands for me to keep living.

On the 10^th October this year, I just knew that it is celebrated as World Mental Health Day, and it triggered me to write this piece. I decided to rewrite snapshots that I can share, hoping that I can help others who had to face a new identity in their adult life with multiple broken hearts, disappointments and millions of unanswered questions. I want to say that although it will be a very long roller coaster emotional ride, at the end, things will be okay.

Today, I want to celebrate my life and say goodbye the history that was created before I was born. I want to shout that I love myself, the perfections and the flaws. I want to celebrate that I am beautiful with all my imperfections, and that I am precious because I was created whole. That sin, didn’t belong to me, and what I need to do is just to be the best person I can be, for others. Kindness, is my religion.

November 9 will never be forgotten and uncelebrated. Happy birthday to (new) me! I wish myself to keep healing and be reminded of how beautiful life can be when I am grateful for everything.

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This piece is inspired by the song “Utuh”, by Johannes Rusli, featuring Dira Sugandi. Thank you for reminding me to ask myself, how am I doing, and the courage to share what it is like to accept myself.

Illustration by my talented cousin, who just knew about my new birthday prior to publication of this piece. Thank you Mira!