Category Archives: Journal

If these posts appear password-protected, don’t be offended

“Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise”

14 Replies

This week, I closed a fast-paced chapter in my life and I am taking a much-needed break before I plunge into the next hectic phase. I quit my job (again!) and have valiantly joined the ranks of the unemployed – those who sleep until 9 and have gigantic breakfasts upon waking up, then open the windows to let the spring breeze in and throw themselves on the bed to write a long blog post. Y’know, the hard knock life.

Quitting my job was not easy. I handed my resignation in on the first week of January but was required to work for three months. Oh how those days dragged. Yet as much as I wanted out, I couldn’t help doubting my decision. It’s really difficult to leave a job when you have nothing immediately lined up. We have been conditioned to latch on to financial security and the stability that a full-time job supposedly provides. We have been told to hold on to our jobs at a time of economic hardships and rising unemployment. But how often are we urged to do what makes us happy, to avoid stress and to pursue our dream careers? Hardly ever. And that’s why it was not easy for me to walk away from my last job as a social community manager at an advertising agency. There were many aspects of the job that I detested but it was a paying job and I was told to suck it up, give my all, show up to work and be a grown up about it. Eventually, I ignored all the terrible advice like, “you’re young, you should work now and do what you love later,” and “not everyone gets to do what they love, be realistic!” or “don’t quit your job, you need the money,” and walked away.

You see, I have become quite the expert on “moving on” having quit three full-time positions between 2008 and 2013. People told me that I was able to leave jobs because I am not entirely dependent on that pay cheque as I still live at home. They might have a point but the driving factor for me was not financial; I left jobs in search of that dreamlike happiness that comes with doing what I love, day in and day out. It takes a lot of courage to pursue dreams as they are shrouded in so much ambiguity. There is absolutely no certainty or clarity when you’re about to leap forward in an attempt to achieve a goal you have been fantasizing about for years. My journey has been full of doubts and anxiety as well as crippling blows from family, friends, acquaintances and even academic institutions, but with the solid belief that everything happens for a reason, I have continued to move forward. I’ve also taken steps back, stumbled and taken a few falls along the way, but that’s just life, non?

I write this post to thank all those who have read my scribbles, cheered me on, believed in me, provided moral support, guidance, recommendation letters and ice cream. I’ll keep blogging about my journey, the places I see, the people I meet and what I hope to achieve. Occasionally, I’ll write about food and sometimes I’ll whine a little. Bear with me and keep reading. Leave a comment every now and then. Be safe. Be kind. Life is short, do what makes you smile.

With love, F.

Hello, little one

Hello, little one

“One lives in the hope of becoming a memory”

4 Replies

Just over a year ago I wrote about my great-uncle’s death. Today, his wife, Amal, passed away, another victim of Kuwait’s appalling health care. She suffered for several weeks and doctors failed to diagnose her. Her last weeks were comprised of experiments that blasé, indecisive doctors carried out.

My Aunt Amal was a wonderful woman who cared for her husband throughout his long fight against Alzheimer’s – it was a one-sided war. Despite all the pressures, she was always cheerful, steadfast in her faith and resilient. She has seen the inside of every hospital in this country and it was not until her last days did she show pain or complain about her deteriorating health.

During my senior year at university, I took a medical anthropology class that looked at the human health, health care systems and disease across different cultures. I wanted to present on Alzheimer’s in Kuwait and rushed to my Aunt Amal to gather information from a credible source. I’ll never forget how proud she was of me for trying to document this misunderstood disease. I went back and forth between her house, the psychiatric hospital and the library. I spent most of my time, however, in my car crying my eyes out in helplessness at the state of public hospitals in Kuwait. All the hideous hospitals in Kuwait pale in comparison with The Psychological Medicine Hospital, which at the time was undergoing great renovations to move patients from decaying structures to a hollow giant block of a “modern” building. The new building had no library to speak of, no doctors willing to help me with my research and no caring staff to tend to the tortured patients who were locked away like criminals. Every trip to the hospital left me agitated and outraged.

Although my research fell apart (I simply could not gather the information I needed) and I ended up writing about Alzheimer’s in India instead, my Aunt Amal continued to treat me like a hero. She was thrilled at the mere idea of someone willing to fight for her cause. I remember apologizing profusely for never finishing what I started but she always nodded wisely and assured me that I did the right thing by trying to start a conversation about Alzheimer’s. A few months ago, a conference was held to raise awareness about the degenerative disease. The government is ten steps behind on that one.

All negativity aside, I pray for strength to be just like my aunt, who smiled in the face of hardship and quietly endured indescribable grief and pain over the years. Rest in peace, Khalti Amal, you will be missed; we belong to God and to Him shall we return.