Princess.

How much would you donate to Japan?

As I clicked on the “Donation” button from my laptop to contibute to the nation-building efforts of Japan, I asked myself that question. I realized, that what I had donated didn’t hurt me one bit. It was a comfortable give.

As I swam another 1 km today in my pool during my study break and contemplated the thought of joining a triathlon in May (recollecting what Dad had said, that he didn’t think it was too expensive), I thought about the stark contrast between the way I live my life, and the people who struggle on a daily basis. Triathlon racing, is an expensive sport.

Over lunch with a friend today, she shared with me her similar struggle about how much to donate to the poor. Was giving to us, a means to salve our conscience, or truly an act of sacrifice? Does our giving merely please ourselves, or it is pleasing to God, whom we give to?

As I had dinner with my dad at a run-down coffeeshop, I thought about the riled discussion the entire nation has been having about the salaries of our ministers. Now that the general elections are drawing near, everyone is talking about that speech which stirred so much emotion, when it was mentioned that a minister takes a day to earn what a common man in Singapore would take an entire month to earn.

As I contemplate my trip to Africa in 10 days time, I look at my life, and wonder how living with the poor would ever be reconciled with my iPhone, my love for a 6-dollar green tea soy latte at Starbucks, and my routine of swimming, biking and running.

I am a product of my uptown world, wanting to make an impact in an entirely different world altogether.

Have you ever been shocked by yourself before? Perhaps you and others see yourself as one kind of person but you one day wake up to discover something different?

I was shocked by myself a few weeks back. I didn’t post up that journal entry because I felt so unsettled about it. To be honest, it unnerved and surprised me.

I discovered it over a lighthearted joke with some good friends. We were talking about girly things and life in general, and oohing and aahing over one another’s good news about getting attached and married and all.

“So what’s your idea of the perfect date and wedding?”

That question hit me like a ton of bricks on the head when I reflected on it in all seriousness later on. Because what went into my head and came out of my mouth completely horrified me upon reflection, even though it was said in jest. It seemed, as if it was not entirely in jest after all.

Well, we were all laughing and amusing one another with silly jokes. As usual, I was being made fun of that I’d marry a rich British ophthalmologist because of his sexy Chris Martin British accent and big mansion in the high streets of London. And so, fitting into my staged role, I very merrily (in my wholesome British accent, of course) said that to make me happy, he would very well have to drive to my place in a nice car, pick me up, go to a nice place and send me home, of course. Like, duh.

And the wedding would be splendid, of course. Like, duh-uh.

When the accents came off and the humourous joking ended, I then realized how different reality would be. And that scared me, even though I thought it was what I had always known from the beginning. Reality began to dawn on me, and in the privacy of our own with my close friend (who also hopes to become a longterm missionary), we realized, that rich men with big cars and lots of property would probably be the last people we would want to be married to.

Lots of our girlfriends our age receive expensive presents and perks- Kate Spade, the privilege to drive her boyfriend’s BMW, gorgeous bouquets of flowers dripping with money, five-figure wedding rings. You name it, they have it. After all, why should it surprise us? We’re from the medical faculty, and a good proportion of us get attached to doctors, lawyers or businessmen.

“So you want a five-figure wedding ring?”

“No,” I said. “If I received one, I would be really mad. And disappointed, I think.”

I never had the problem reconciling with the fact that in a phase of my life, I would very possibly be living in a rural place by myself with a community I had chosen to live with.

But now, faced with the possibility that I would (if I ever got attached) most probably be going out with someone who had a similar worldview to me about the poor and spending… … that prospect of never fulfilling that little princess’ ideal of being properly taken out and pampered and spoilt by a man whom she could be loved by… … let’s just say I was surprised and unnereved by how unnerving that thought was.

That means no car, no proper apartment like I’m used to living in, no “perks”.

I am born in a middle to upper class background, surrounded by people who live in Sixth Avenue and go to Europe and America for holidays, and working in a community who earn a very comfortable pay. I have been pampered and taken out by my dad in his white spacious car all my life. I have been pampered and taken out by other people who have been living and spending comfortably, very often on me too. Where to from here?

I guess, I couldn’t reconcile it because while I can very well take the idea of myself being hard on myself for my own reasons and purposes, I am used to being “loved” by others through their loving me through material perks which I might otherwise not spend on myself. It was difficult to swallow the fact that if I truly were sincere about it, that every aspect of my life, including being taken out and being in a relationship/starting a family etc etc etc, would have to be consistent with it as well.

I guess, I just didn’t want to deal with the idea that my choice to serve the poor would have a direct consequence on that untainted and unredeemed little girl’s ideal of high romance.

As a child, I had been brought to America and Europe, dined in expensive restaurants, been pampered with exorbidant gifts I had never asked for. In a few months, I would be earning my own keep. What would I do with it?

Do I sympathise with my patients who cannot afford their medical fees and then treat myself to an exorbidant gift? Am I truly ready for this lifelong service and outpouring to the poor? What do I tell my therapist who has been trying to drive into me, the idea of pampering myself and treating myself?

I don’t know. I am not a saint. I like Starbucks.

I remember the interview panel asking me during the final round of the interviews for the Young Outstanding Singaporean Award, “You come from a middle class family and are obviously not poor. Why do you choose to do this?”

And I simply said, quite unromantically, that I had suffered no lack before. And so, that ferocious yearning to make and earn money was simply never built in. It was not a particularly altruistic answer. I was being honest.

I am learning. That when God grips us with a vision, it will, sooner or later, permeate every aspect of our lives to align what needs to be aligned with the vision.

Now, I’ve come to a point to realize, that I have much to come to terms with. Can I live in a way that truly reflects trust in God, that does not involve hoarding and backups; can I live with the idea that I might never be taken out in the way that little girl inside of me wants to (well, to be fair, I have been taken out by rich people who have it all- I’ve very simply also scared them off by my articulating my dreams very early on in the conversation as well); can I live in a way that does not reflect my status as a doctor, or an uptown girl or a rich kid triathlete? I can handle things better if I bring the suffering upon myself, but say in a relationship, can I cope with the other person being more frugal than me? Would that not frustrate me immensely?

All this, seems so trivial in the light of tragedy and poverty and injustice in the world. Yet, this is exactly what my therapist has been trying to tell me, that because of my insistence on not treating myelf sufficiently due to what I’ve seen and heard first-hand since I was 17, I lack a whole lot of self-care, resulting in my reliance for other people to meet my needs.

That is not good.

I am learning, there is still much about myself that I need to learn about, and more about God that I need to learn about, too. I need to learn self-care without self-sufficiency, and contentment without shame.

By myself, all this is impossible. Giving, accomodating, making adjustments… staying in Africa… would all be impossible.

So I’m leaving for Africa next week after my exams. I need to find out, what all this means.

I can’t do this by myself. I’m just a spoilt princess.

I need your help, God.