leaves from the vine.

Photo by Gagah Gumelar

I haven't been writing here in a while, I might have been getting a tiny bit too comfortable with Instagram, a.k.a. micro-blogging. Writing on Instagram just seems like it will reach more people, and obviously easier to write on than posting it here on my 10+ year blog. Nevertheless, this media right here is where I journal publicly, hoping it will not only help me express my feelings better, but also help others who are dealing with the same shit as I am.

Anyways, welcome to this blog I made back in 2009 to those new readers (if any). My name is Janis, a 23 year old girl, practicing to be vulnerable through the many ways there are, but most importantly through writing, because that's how I express myself best.

I am currently in Jakarta, a place I call home, but doesn't really feel like home right now. Surrounded by my dear family, all I can think about is the death of three family members that happened while I was here. These griefs reminded of that one summer where my uncle and my little sister passed away, only a couple of weeks apart. Funny how the griefs I experienced all happened in the summery months. This week I cried, and stopped, and cried again worse, eventually finding myself in the bathroom constantly biting the palm of my hands and saying fuck, stop it jan just breathe. The bottom of my eyes get darker, and the end of my nose gets red. Underneath the warm shower I think of my aunt and of my grandma, and how I wish I could be with my best friend so that I can feel her hug me. I cried more because I miss her dearly. I cried more because with the pandemic, it is really hard to see the people who I know will take my mind off these griefs.

It's weird talking about grief again, and again, and again here in the blog. I feel like I am used to grieving, but as a matter of fact, it feels fairly new every single time. When my grandmother died when I was 7 years old, I picked up the phone and shouted through the roof of my house, "uti meninggal!!!", and I skipped school. When my uncle died, I was at school and my driver picked us up and we went to my grandpa's house, remembering the time he, my sister, and I walked to get martabak. When my little sister died, I was at the room next door in the hospital, connected to hoses due to the dengue fever, crying so bad because I was sad, and pissed at the fat boy who was crying the whole night next to my bed. When my 13 year old dog died, I fell down to the floor of my room and cried. When my aunt died, I picked up the phone and had my dad told me she was gone, trying to hold my tears back. When my grandma died, I was eating at the mall and came home to the bathroom to wash the tiredness away and cried in the shower. It looks like I'm used to it, but it feels different every single time.

During the two weeks of my time in Jakarta, I did a lot of firsts. My first time of eating claypot in Blok-M. My first time of visiting the slightly overrated dog park in Kemang. My first time strolling around Mayestik, like what my late grandma used to do. My first time having picnics with my dear cousins. My first time bathing a passed person. My first time praying a passed person (solat jenazah; I was too young to pray for my late grandma, uncle, and my little sister). My first time meeting someone off a dating app (it went well, I think). My first time seeing a Do Not Resuscitate patient, when I could usually only watch it on Grey's Anatomy. My first time hearing wedding plans of my dear cousin. My first time seeing a COVID-19 at home isolation. My first time enjoying tahu petis. My first, my first, my first...

Funny how sometimes people ask me why I am voluntarily writing my personal experiences and feelings out in a public media. Simply, I love writing about my vulnerability. Secondly, I want to document my feelings as complete as possible, be it here publicly, or handwritten on the many notebooks I have. Thirdly, quoting Morgan Harper Nichols, Tell the story of the mountain you climbed. Your words could become a page in someone else's survival guide.

Stay healthy and safe lovers.