Wow! I haven't written for three days. St. Valentine's day made me ask myself if I'm OK with having no one to go to a candle-light dinner with. And suddenly, I thought of my yet-to-be-in-a-relationship friends (calling them "single" may be too offensive), so I texted them to let them know that I was thinking of them.
I'm grateful for my years in the US and Canada for it has permanently damaged my ability to get lonely. My first year in a boarding school was so horrible that I cried at least once every week (all Thai royal scholars had to spend one year in Grade 12 in preparation for college admission). Being half the globe away from home, with everything totally different, with the pressure of studying in English and getting into colleges, it just couldn't be worse. I'm very proud that I survived it. When one hits the rock bottom and can sink no further, one naturally rises up. That's my motto.
Never again feeling lonely means that I'm free to do whatever I please, whenever I want. I can eat out at restaurants I like without having to ask people to go with me. I can go to monasteries when it fits my schedule. I can go shopping, to movies, to parks, by myself. Sometimes having friends going, say shopping, with me kind of takes some fun out of it because I have to worry about whether or not they enjoy it.
Of course, the downsides of being "too independent" is that I'm seen as weird and a recluse (my sister says that I live in my own world though so does everyone, in a sense). Not that I mind, but I just want to present both sides of the story...
I just learned about a friend from work who has subtly used money to get companions. For example, she pays for their trips so that some of our office staff can accompany her. Of course, she can do whatever she pleases with what she earns, but having an unhealthy relationship with money creates all sorts of other problems, e.g., one has to find means to continuously secure money and worry about repayments if loans are taken. I never see money as another form of addiction until now. Perhaps money brings power, and power is what's addictive.
I'm grateful for my years in the US and Canada for it has permanently damaged my ability to get lonely. My first year in a boarding school was so horrible that I cried at least once every week (all Thai royal scholars had to spend one year in Grade 12 in preparation for college admission). Being half the globe away from home, with everything totally different, with the pressure of studying in English and getting into colleges, it just couldn't be worse. I'm very proud that I survived it. When one hits the rock bottom and can sink no further, one naturally rises up. That's my motto.
Never again feeling lonely means that I'm free to do whatever I please, whenever I want. I can eat out at restaurants I like without having to ask people to go with me. I can go to monasteries when it fits my schedule. I can go shopping, to movies, to parks, by myself. Sometimes having friends going, say shopping, with me kind of takes some fun out of it because I have to worry about whether or not they enjoy it.
Of course, the downsides of being "too independent" is that I'm seen as weird and a recluse (my sister says that I live in my own world though so does everyone, in a sense). Not that I mind, but I just want to present both sides of the story...
I just learned about a friend from work who has subtly used money to get companions. For example, she pays for their trips so that some of our office staff can accompany her. Of course, she can do whatever she pleases with what she earns, but having an unhealthy relationship with money creates all sorts of other problems, e.g., one has to find means to continuously secure money and worry about repayments if loans are taken. I never see money as another form of addiction until now. Perhaps money brings power, and power is what's addictive.
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