Especially today, for some indescribable reason, I was revisited by the urge to dissect my SELF. Yes, the self. Me: the character, the soul, the core, the being of Enida. My role, my existence, my Enida-ness, my Enida-desuです.
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After being awake for the last 48 hours, all I could think of now is some sort of a pre-mortem. Not that I am dying or anything. Well… I am. (But who isn’t?)
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I am happy now that I am happier. That’s for sure.
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Over the years of braving life on my own, though I keep my words to just few, I find it a lot easier to speak my mind at any given time, space, and mood. I care about tones and volumes a lot less than before. As a business runner that has now been employing a few Airwingers, I am signed up for a new role in leadership. Something I never had the chance to really explore other than leading my household of one daughter, one son, one domestic helper and one achy breaky heart.
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As much as I would like to believe that I am generally a friendly person, I don’t have many friends. Please don’t mind my Facebook Friends List — I probably only know 50 people from that list of 500. Twenty of which are families. And as much as I would like to believe that I am not an overly fussy person, I know I have cast many people away because of my terminal illness in language-correctness superiority complex.
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Nevertheless, the most recent changes in my way of carrying that self are in the ways I’m managing my expectations. My tolerance to nonsense is 0.01% max, my willingness to listen to excuses is just within micro-seconds, and my anticipation for sensibility in other people is way beyond infinity. I don’t know what it is. May be it’s old age, maybe it’s just my unrealistic hopes that the more advanced the technology is, the better equipped people are. The more readily available information is.
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But I forget. Human is human. Not all that I learned in Psychology can prepare me for this role I hold. Google doesn’t have every answer and I don’t always know what to search for. The intensity – and the stress – that comes with the communication and interaction among humans can, more often than not, be overwhelming. And as a leader, I have just alarmingly discovered that my leadership style is Pukul Rata (Purata) “Pukul dulu, kemudian pijak sampai rata.” Yes, I am so lah not that perempuan-perempuan, the term once used by my manager.
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My anticipation for sensibility, I dare repeat, is so high that I expect others to just have some sense in everything. In communication, in business, in any actions, in common things. Not many can stand my Pukul-n-Pijak-Rata ruling. I shoot, and won’t even ask questions later. After being betrayed and backstabbed by one trusted friend and being abandoned when I was in need, by another… I learned to not have mercy.
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And so I pukul-and-pijak no matter who. But trust me, the strong ones will get up, stronger. They will bounce back, higher. They live, they learn, they survive, better than ever. I have seen it. And those who are flat-out downbeat giver-uppers will just slide off and fade away. I have seen it too. People who can tahan my Pukul-and-Pijak now, can tahan anything in the future. Percayalah.
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After all I only pukul-and-pijak with words. I don’t do the ‘hand job’, nor do I ever naik kaki.
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Questa è Enida 
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