A constant agony

I learnt a new term this week “languishing“. Apparently this old English word is given a new hip meaning, a meaning to describe a certain state of mind. And this sensation is sweeping out the entire human population, joined force by the never-ending pandemic.

Doctors and scientists tell us the constant agony or frustration we feel, it might not be a sign of depression. It is more like the the beginning of the end that we should call it “languishing”. What a relief. It already looks less intimidating than depression.

This stagnantly aimless, joyless life is crawling under the skin of many of us. With our government dawdling between the orders of reopening and shutting businesses every few weeks, the polite, half-baked Canadian way of “keeping things under control” has gotten us nowhere close to the finish line.

For the ones who still have a job, work is all we know how to carry on with. Forget about vacations, or even personal days, because we got nowhere to go and nothing else to do. I bet you don’t dare to feel a tiny bit of illness anyway.

Even if you did, you’d rather cover it up with a brighter foundation or some more blush. Feeling sick is almost forbidden. Imagine the steps you ought to take to prove that’s not Covid related, and the potential fear you’d bring to your family and colleagues?

I didn’t even count the number of sicks days you will add to your personnel file. What a weak baby! Think about what your boss will think of you when the negative test result comes back. It’s not even Covid related!

What are we supposed to say to the people who ask “how have you been?” It is such a loaded question. Do they expect a single word answer, or are they prepared for the real truth?

I have been on both ends. And I have seen two ways to answer it.

“I am well and hope you are well, too.” Or “same same, but I am grateful for what I have.”

Occasionally someone would say “this sucks! I am so tired of all the bullshit!” But the majority of us feel obligated to uphold the optimism, as if admitting the agony equaled to showing the side of weakness.

We can’t afford to be vulnerable in front to the others! The chronic pandemic war is not over yet.

Thank goodness now we can say we feel languishing. It is not a mental illness. It’s just an absence of well-being. As if once we figured out a name for it, it’s as good as if we had figured out a way to defeat it. This non-illness related emotion would quietly disappear, and leave us in peace for the rest of the years.

Admit it, identify it, and fix it. Not possible? Then remove it!

No no no, naming it didn’t give me any sense of relief. Does someone have the magic antidote? Just like the morning blues. We indeed have a label for it. But all we’ve managed to do is maintaining the coexistance, at best.

Adam Grant at the New York Times suggested that, to stop being consumed by languishing, we can try finding some uninterrupted time to focus on getting into flow (an “optimal experience”, a state of consciousness), or setting some smaller goals for some easy wins. Challenging, but not unachievable. The idea is to help us “rediscover some of the energy and enthusiasm”.

Shrugged my shoulders, I moved away from the laptop screen. The way out of this absence of well-being is through more work, smaller, manageable work, outside of work.

Did we forget the reason why we go out to work? Sure, for survival: to pay the bills, to keep a roof over our heads, to bring bread home.

But more importantly, it’s to have a chance to experience the things we don’t even know that exist. For instance, we travel the world to new realms and fall in love with the local people, culture, music and food. Those are what the most of us busting our butts for. Not for more work?!

We live in a society that requires socialization and team playing. We might very well be able to live in solitude. But that is not the normalcy.

Friday afternoon happy hours was the normalcy. Our senses are heightened in a crowded bar, mind being challenged to process overloading information, populating conversations to keep the engagement. You take a sip of a mediocre cocktail, anticipating what the others will say next while scheming up a clever come-back. You sweat. Your eyes shift side to side. You are tense but that’s exhilarating. All the five basic human needs are being satisfied right here in this single social setting.

Obviously, we have a better chance to feel content, or achieve a state of well-being, when we are allowed to indulge from time to time. I say any sensory stimulation would do.

My dishes are getting spicier lately. Regular sit-coms don’t do the trick anymore. I’ve moved onto Hannibal series. Am I coping, or slipping?

How many jobs are too many?

We played a little icebreaker game with the new recruits of our United Way GenNext Cabinet. You must have heard of it – 2 truths and a lie. I incorporated a little statement about my job status. It was a wow factor. So I used it again at the company social hour. This time, I was challenged. Someone called my bluff.

Yes, I did have 23 paid jobs. I counted them.

I started my first job in 2006. It was a hot summer, sticky and wild. I used to work night shifts and had to walk through an empty field before stepping on the paved road to that apartment we rented.

I was helping out at a sushi restaurant. They did teach me how to make beef tatake. And I sliced my fingers prepping those lemon wedges. Mum saw the size of the cut and decided that was the end of my sous chef career.

No complaint was made. The empty field, and those giant hares who used to stand under the moonlight spacing out into the dark night freaked me out. When I close my eyes, I can still picture their majestic silhouettes, glowing in the weeds.

Perhaps that wasn’t a good start of my career life. Or perhaps young adults are easily distracted. My first five Canadian years were segregated by short-lived retail and hospitality gigs. Back in the 00s, getting a job would only take a couple weeks. Personality seemed to outweigh qualifications.

If you knew me 15 years ago, I could tell you all the secrets in a Big Mac. And if I want, I bet I can still make an average latte with some basic drawing, or a frozen yogurt cone with a lopsided twist.

My closet is arranged by colour and pattern, thanks to the time I spent watching my talented merchandizing colleagues making magic.

My husband wouldn’t let me measure him, but little did he know I was one of the OG traveling tailors at Indochino’s first pop-up shop in 2011. Of course I won’t tell you the Canucks were there.

Among those talents, I like to brag the most about my brief experience as a babysitter/antique shop associate. You guessed correctly, the father of the baby owned an antique shop. It was in the heart of Kerrisdale.

We used to have chitchats about history over afternoon tea. The designs, and imperfections and the stories behind each object in his collection. Sometimes he’d have friends bring biscuits over to kill time. I often had to step out to take the baby for a stroll, letting the gentle summer sunlight kiss the baby’s bare feet.

Last week I biked through that neighbourhood. The shop was no longer there. I think I once saw my old boss in another antique store in Steveston. He must have relocated. I wonder how his baby boy is now.

If it wasn’t because of those random part time jobs, I wouldn’t be able to try out different majors in college. They paid my tuition. They bought me time and freedom. My parents had already lost track of my education status by year 3.

Granted, I am far behind many of my high school and university friends. Some of them are running their own businesses. Some have been working with a large organization for almost a decade. Then I look at myself who just had an epiphany about a year ago. That appears to be a late bloomer to me, would you say?

Do I regret wasting precious time on meaningless jobs? Maybe a little. But I wouldn’t call them meaningless just yet.

Plus, I could never control where my heart wants to go. At least now I can tell you what I like and what I absolutely have zero interest in. That’s one benefit of having had 23 different jobs.

I made mistakes along the way and indeed learnt some life lessons the hard way. I would still prefer my amateur life. It was a simpler time. I could make friends at work and trust them.

Nowadays, I am playing mind games almost as good as I can do my job. That, is exhausting.

23 is a big number. It’s probably 15 too many for any LinkedIn profile. But it makes me 15 times cooler if you have the time for my stories. You will see I am not a blank canvas.

So, let’s save the rest of the stories for another time, shall we?

What’s your first impression of Tesla?

My husband is a total car enthusiast. He’s obviously more into car stuff than anything else, or anyone. I am usually okay with his undying passion for car, because he keeps it to himself. Occasionally, he gets me involved.

With COVID living amongst us, there isn’t much to do on the weekend. So my husband, let’s call him N, suggested that we visit the Tesla dealership, with no intention of buying or leasing one. I remembered the look on his face when I expressed my disinterest. Don’t give me wrong, before sitting in one, I was fascinated with it too. I guess the difference between N and I is that he hadn’t sat in one yet. Poor guy, imagine the anticipation, must have been driving him nuts.

So I came along only because the alternative would be staying at home, with our little terror H-dawg.

Tesla has a tiny store front, compared to any other major dealership that I have visited in the past. Four floor models, a front desk, some sani-stations and a dozen people already made the room quite stuffy. Within minutes, we were led to the parkade level full of Teslas. They all parked in this ordinary commercial parking space, guarded by no one. Followed by a 2-minite tutorial, we departed from the underground and headed to UBC.

The first sentence I said to N was “is it as fast as you hoped for?” “Oh yes, it’s fast. They gave us a performance model.” I saw a big grin on his face. While N was busy testing different modes, I looked around the interior trying to look for something impressive. But sadly, besides the enormous console in the middle, there was nothing else to take my attention away. I hate to say this but everything felt every, unoriginal.

Like I mentioned in the Disclaimer, this is a safe place for me and my audience to share our candid thoughts, so even if my comments will rock someone’s boat, I still would prefer a more analog machine over a futuristic Tesla. I felt I was being watched and analyzed the entire time I was in the car. Doesn’t anyone else have the same feeling, that the machine is listening in to each conversation, monitoring our expressions, behaviors and vital signs, so it can learn human cognitive abilities and limitations? Or was that just me being paranoid?

Out of all the features Tesla offers, I do not understand the need for Caraoke, unless it was designed for passengers only. A cheeky little play on words though.

Another feature that creeped me out was the self driving ability. Apparently as long as the car can sense the driver has laid his or her eyes on the road, self-driving can be enabled. Tell me that I’m crazy, but it’s totally watching us.

With little to zero driving experience, I can’t speak to the performance of the car. But as a passenger who’s gotten more than 20 years of being driven, I wasn’t wowed by it. The seats were oddly designed, pressing into the back of the legs. The steering wheel looked like plug-ins, which is for easy repair and replacement I pressum. Every little knick knack felt it was ripped off from somewhere else and smashed together with the other cool gadgets the car holds. The bright console was an unavoidable distraction. And N, for the first time, didn’t feel he was in full control of a car. The potential of the car frightened me.

Call me selfish, but to a passenger, I still enjoy a good road trip where I get to watch trees and roads roaring past by us, while playin “I spy with my little eye” game to help N stay engaged and entertained. A brilliant multi-functional console offers way more entertainment than I do. Does it also help a driver to unwind and distance from the busy world?

But don’t mistake me for one second that I will deny the innovative advancement, sustainable transport, environmental contribution and many more advantages that Tesla and the team behind it has created. It is ahead of the automobile’s game. And soon, it could become another commodity. Maybe by then, I have already been brainwashed to trust all small and big smart devices. Convenience will outweigh privacy and control. Until then, let’s hope Elon can solve the global warming crisis.

Combat that mental strain with your favorite physical activity

Canada has just confirmed entering its second wave of COVID-19. The case numbers are skyrocketing, looking more seriously than they were in March. The health authorities released strict measures. For BC residents, house parties were finally called a halt. In-door group activities closed doors before further inspection and approval. Non-essential cross-health region travels also are now asked to stop. Some strenuous rules.

I was up in Whistler with my husband, lining up for baked goods in front of Pure Bread, when he read the news to me. Looking back, it amazes me how many people were willing to wait outside in 5 degrees below freezing just for bread and pastries. We were there for about 45 minutes. Mid wait, I got a message from the hotel notifying me the morning Yoga was cancelled. Then my husband read me the news about the new orders and the second lockdown.

We cancelled the remainder of our trip. On the following days, I went back to WFH. And just like that, a surge of emotions hit me, without warning. I felt like losing my mind, into an anxiety spiral. It’s hard to explain what exactly happened. But I recognized I could go down that rabbit hole and spiral out of control. All the things that have been on my mind were all coming together and attacking me, asking for resolutions. Life seemed so hopeless, and I detected a sense of failure.

I care about my mental wellness. Yes, I have some mild mental issues. It’s normal, like occasionally I would get weirdly anxious, or some friends would say, tense. Sometimes more random and without trigger, there were the odd panic attacks. Some of the known symptoms can be physical discomfort – sweating, nausea, chills, difficulty in breathing, chest pain, etc., you name it. It’s never a fun trip.

Over the years, those onsets became less and less frequent. It wasn’t because I went to see a shrink, I believe it’s all the physical exercises I’ve been practicing that got me through some of the hardest times.

I used to run until my back gave up. Then I switched to gym time, to HIIT training, to barre and spin. I might not be good at any kind of sport, I am pretty good at picking up different forms of workout. 4 out of 7 days I’d visit a fitness studio. Eventually, I narrowed down to spin and machine assisted Pilates, or Mega Pilates.

When we were in the first lockdown, as the weather got warmer, my husband bought me a road bike rather than a Peloton. So we were able to go outside and cycle around the city. It didn’t feel so bad if I had to do my Pilates by streaming a YouTube channel at home. I knew each week I got to spend quality time exercising while enjoying the beautiful scenery and fresh air. The new normalcy got even more tolerable once I found out my favourite Pilates studio, Lagree West reopened. Seeing some of the familiar faces gave me immense amount of joy and comfort, although they were always behind a mask.

Each megaformer workout station is separated by a clear vinyl barrier. In the front, the instructor’s voice comes through a little muffled. I can turn around and look at the other Mega Lagree babes whenever I don’t understand what the next move should be.

I was happy as a clam, doing Pilates, bathing in my own sweat and feeling invincible. Also that sense of belonging, that community togetherness, was inspirational. So when it was taken away from me again, my mind decided it couldn’t cope with lockdown anymore. That was my sanctuary; one of the fewer places where I felt my body and mind were safe and in control.

Check out here for a few moments of me in my natural habitat.

Mega Pilates transferred me but also got me depended on it. Sure enough it releases dopamine which helps regular my mood. It also empowers me with full control of my personal autonomy. Through doing those workouts, we slowly recognize our own bodily integrity. We can finally say “my body, my choice.” Strangely that’s a mood booster.

What else are we supposed to do if one day, we can’t get up and go out to do our favourite group class anymore? Do we have enough psychologists and psychiatrists to help deal with that much of anger and negative energy? I say, we hygiene our hands, we mask up, we respect all rules and orders so that our favourite gyms and studios can reopen sooner again!

I hear you just got a puppy!

Feeling lonely, because you are stuck at home most of the days?

We got a puppy about 9 months ago. It was a result of a very drunken husband.

On and off, my husband and I had been looking up puppy adoption opportunities on the Internet for years. We could never agree on the breed. Everything changed at the Canucks vs. Bruins home game night. He leaned over and asked if I wanted a puppy as Canucks scored the 9th goal. I looked over and thought to myself, “he’s beyond drunk. This could be my one and only chance”, then said “yes, let’s do it!” Next thing I know, we were up at 6AM in the morning driving down to the suburbs to meet a group of pug babies.

Henry was a runt of the litter. He and his two other brothers were placed on a pile of newspapers, in a dark basement, waiting to be inspected. The house looked like an illegal puppy mild.

It wasn’t a rocket science for us to decide which one to bring home – while the two puppies were jumping up and down, yelping for attention, Henry sat still quietly away from the crowd. Even after I picked him up, he just laid on my lap, looking a bit timid. My brilliant husband made me promise not to bring any puppy home on the first visit. We ended up leaving a deposit on Henry.

The owner of the puppies met with us at a vet on the day of exchange. There were only two of the puppies there, Henry and one of his brothers. The lady told me that she’s going to keep the other boy and replace the “dad”. I held Henry tighter as she was explaining to me about her plans, Henry’s teeny tiny long nails dug into my skin. He was frightened.

Potty training was hellish in February. It was cold and rainy. We had to take him out every couple hours. What made it worse was that we went into the first lockdown a few weeks after we got Henry. Downtown Vancouver was immediately taken over by the homeless. We tried training pad at the beginning, but he would just tear it up. Luckily I removed any type of carpet/rug from the common area ahead of accidents.

The first 4 months of having Henry gave me mental breakdowns. Most days were just me and Henry, working away. He developed an attachment issue with me. That means, every time I got dressed and about to take him out, as I was approaching his crate, he’d look into my eyes and pee, either on himself or into the space. For the longest time, my daily routine incorporated with washing Henry, washing his toys and beddings, wiping down the floors and deodorizing everything he peed on. Pathetically I started to get anxiety attacks each time I was left alone with Henry, which was every weekday.

My husband and friends kept telling me to be patient as Henry would grow out of his puppy phase eventually. My patience ran out by the fourth month as Henry got enrolled into puppy training school. Until this day, I don’t know if he learnt to de-attach from me, or my husband’s stepping up to relief me from time to time worked, or he just needed new friends. By the time he graduated his puppy school, he seemed to have many things under control, including his urge to pee whenever he got near to me.

Do I regret getting Henry? Absolutely not! He is my prince and I love him to pieces. Were there any moments that I wish I didn’t have him? Many! All those late nights and early mornings standing with him in the coldness, all the mental scares I endured, all those lunch hours during which I had to run home and attend to him, and all the steps we had to take to clean after his mess – to be frank, having a puppy is more chores than joy. But having a pet, not just a dog or cat, any type of pet, teaches you to be more responsible and patient. They intend to bring out the best version of you, with their endless, unconditional love.

It’s up to you to implement rules or let your pet dictate how your life is going to be. Because they don’t understand any better. If you let your pet in bed, expect it’s going to get soiled one day. If you encourage your pet to wander between rooms, don’t be surprised if you find out little “presents” here and there. You are responsible for their actions.

We ought to learn our ways with our pets, just like with any other relationship. But remember, with this one, you can’t call it quits that easily.

Monday Blues

I get the Monday Blues every winter. The subarctic winter is long and hopeless.

Some people work to live, some people live to work. I am the latter. So on weekends, I purposely block off time to study, do house chores, and spend time with my boys (one is human, one is a doggo).

Getting up on Monday after an eventful weekend is incredibly hard, especially when is dark out. My body is still in repair mode, and my mind receives no positive stimulation. It’s safe to say my magnetic field is at its weakest on Mondays. What a vicious circle.

Last Monday, I took doggo Henry for a quick walk before heading in the office, same as every morning. There aren’t many people on the street at that time. I typically enjoy the quietness, but not last Monday. A homeless person was roaming around, feeling high or something, as Henry and I walking pass him to our usual spot. He was annoyed by us I assumed, so he started spitting at our direction adamantly. I don’t think it was out of racism. When you tell a child not to do something, they will do just that thing to despite you. As coronavirus continues to live among us, any airborne transmission is discouraged. And I think that spitting homeless knew as well.

Needless to say, I was horrified by his action. I picked up Henry and ran, like a mad person. That night, I had, among other symptoms, a fever. Luckily, two days later I was confirmed COVID negative. A friend told me my symptoms could be triggered psychologically.

Even though Monday Blues might not have been scientifically approved. The struggle is real. So are depression and other emotional distress. Most of us refuse to admit, thinking it’s a sign of weakness. Instead of confronting it, we let the blues breed.

Since the lockdown, I have slowly but surely been consumed by social media. Most days, the content on my feed perks me up. I actually am grateful to have Instagram during those blurry days back in March and April. It was one of the fewer things got me excited about life. Seeing how hard other people were trying to keep a “normal“ routine, it made me feel part of something. We were all in this together.

Is there a magic pill we can take to get rid of the Monday sadness? If so, what would be the price we pay?

Are you zoomed out yet?

Do you have a morning routine? My day starts with browsing on my phone in bed for half an hour, before I get up, get ready, walk my dog, then head to work. And once I get to the office, some of my colleagues who work on an earlier schedule are already starting Zoom meeting No. 2.

I remember watching the Demolition Man. Strangely the movie predicted a very similar future like the one we are currently living in, including the video calling. COVID-19 has put us back in our individual bubbles. Remote interactions became the mainstream.

We turn on the screen, adjust the camera to a perfect angle where people can’t tell if you are wearing pants or not, put on a fake background to mask over the messy reality, and lock yourself in a virtual meeting room for the next 30 to 60 minutes.

Although videoconferencing is extremely convenient for people who are in different geographical locations, are those daily/weekly check-in meetings really effective? How many actions are carried out actually? How often do you talk over someone else in a group zoom, or never get a chance to speak? What do we do if we misinterpret a person or a message? Who’s going to tell us that we are wrong?

With the multiple screens going in rotation, I spend at least the first 3 minutes to try to figure out who are in the “room” and who are hosting. People will only see the side of my face because I am looking into the big monitor rather than the tiny laptop display. No one can tell my facial expression or pick up on my non-verbal cues. There’s usually an awkward silence after each time I speak. I am tired of starring at a screen, constantly deciding if I should “interrupt” someone else before we move onto the next topic, and worrying about me coming off rude or inconsiderate.

The Zoom Fatigue is real.

During those zoom meetings, being conscious of everyone’s time, we start to forgo the small talks. We get to the point, check things off the agenda, sign off then sign into the next meeting. Very much like robots, controlled, efficient, but superficial.

How much longer before we can go out and have that cozy coffee meet again? I want to tell you my stories, as I look into your eyes, not a cold screen.

Making plans

How many of you get frustrated when making plans with friends?

Yes? No? Never make plans. Just go with the flow?

Sadly I am a control freak. Or should I say, a planning perfectionist. I LOVE to have every single activity planned out, confirmed, and lodged in my calendar. I used to draw a map each time I visited a new city, until Google Map came up with pinned locations. If I didn’t have reservation for dinner, I’d rather eat McDonald’s. Why? Because surprises stress me out, rather those unwanted surprises.

So I have a few close friends. Just like you, I’d be sharing my darkest secrets, deepest sadness, and happiest moments with those girls. They are a big part of my life. They probably know me better than myself. People say true friends travel together. Yes, we didn’t slit each other’s throat on any of our trips together. We may bicker once a while, but we love one another, to the moon and back.

If 2020 happened in a different universe where COVID-19 didn’t exist, we may have had a higher success rate of meet-ups. But because I am stuck in this universe, the four of us only met three times together in the last 10 months, of course all through virtual hangout.

2020 is a busy year – I got a puppy. Sophie delivered a beautiful baby girl, on my birth date, at home( birthday twins and home birth, double whammy)! Zoe found out that she’s pregnant in June, a little while after her birthday. And Angela was promoted at work. We all experience somewhat of a milestone in life. But unfortunately, none of those were celebrated properly, together with friends.

I tried to suggest an actual real-life gathering a few times. But just like every other time, even before the pandemic, we couldn’t find a time that worked for everyone. We are just ordinary people and somehow, we all got crazy schedules. How did this happen?

Life happened, I suppose.

Career stress, parenting, intimacy issues, alternative lifestyle. Everyday, we are faced with hundreds of small or catastrophic challenges only adults would understand. And we have to arm ourselves, head to toes, to fight those impossible fights at any time. Since when, we were too occupied and lost contact with the friends that were dearest to us? And do those adulthood excuses justify the lost of friendship?

I don’t want to live in memories. I want to continue creating those beautiful memories with my dearest friends. Getting rejected does hurt. But losing them would hurt even more. So I guess there isn’t going to be an easy way out. I care too much to quit.

Girls, I will persistently message you, plan things to do with you, even if it means only 5% of those things become reality one day. But, friends for life, right?

A Weekend in Whistler

My company hosted a retreat, about a month ago. There were 48 of us.

You’re probably going to criticize and call us insane, or irresponsible.

On the contrary, we couldn’t be more diligent and responsible. Because reputation aside, people’s health and safety was on the line.

The fun stuff

The group of us had a jam packed schedule for the three days. Two inspirational speakers, Rolling Thunder bobsled experience, live music performances, and a monitored panel discussion with renowned industry leaders.

Each venue was carefully selected, sanitized, with everything spaced out. Onsite staff wore masks throughout the entire programs. In addition to the waivers, guests were given different colored wristbands to indicate social preference. No one felt the slightest uncomfortableness.

Rationale

Why did we go out of our ways to plan and execute this “impossible” retreat?

We all had an emotionally drained, physically frustrated seven long and boring months. March and April were incredibly difficult. The skies were grey, the air was musky, and birds stopped singing. I felt like I was dying inside.

So we started drinking at 9am on a non-work day. we decided pants were optional for a business zoom meeting. Hair salons and gyms were closed, which was the perfect excuse for 80’s rock n’ roll hair comeback and stretchy sweatpants that we used to wear to turkey dinners only.

Being stranded in our confined space, we fought with our partners, children, and parents constantly. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I was desperate for some human contact, outside of my apartment.

Could you think of anything that’s better than going to this government approved personal growth focused retreat with some of the finest business professionals? Some of the conversations I had over the weekend were the best I had in a long time. I made new friends, connected with a new mentor, and gained more clarity on the career path I chose. It was a profound experience!


Is divorce a trend now?

More than 40% marriages end up in divorce. True or false?

In my culture, divorce used to be frowned upon. It’s viewed as a total failure, not just in marriage, in everything.

I know a friend who went on a Chinese dating show three years ago and matched with one of the guests who became his future wife. They have a beautiful story. But how did they get matched? Certainly not love at first sight, per se. It was the choice of the audience. Although the second half of the show didn’t get aired, my friend told me the audience strongly believed he, as the only male divorcee contestant, must pair with the only female divorcee.

Granted, that’s Asian society for you. It doesn’t stop people from openly discussing about their divorces. Sometimes, the conversation takes place over a drink. Sometimes, it’s on a bike ride. If feels like half of the people I know are busy getting married, and they other half are filing for a divorce.

Is marriage a lemon?


Certainly not.

So what happened to us?

Many of these new divorces happened within the first 10 years of marriage. The process is painful but getting one done through our Canadian legal system is rather easier than ever.

We are all entitled to happiness. If a relationship brings out the worst version of you, you shouldn’t have to be trapped in it. But don’t jump ship just because quitting seemed easier. If you didn’t get married for the wrong reasons, or staying with someone is endangering your life, please give it your 120% before quitting.

We all adore our grandparents. Because they are always together. We tear up when seeing an elderly couple holding hands crossing the street. It’s in our nature to seek companionship. Inevitably, the physical attraction will fade and the intimacy will disappear. But that’s not all marriage is about. If you are patient enough, you may realize all relationships evolve and become something else eventually. Plus, the next new thing won’t be shiny forever.

There are three fundamental elements in a marriage – physical interaction, emotional support, and financial stability. However, it’s impossible to ask one person for all our desires. So pick the most important two out of three, and be grateful for what we have. Bicker less, and share more. Maybe one day we will become that old couple.