Living with PCOS (and the aforementioned impossible dream)

It doesn’t take long to notice the signs. I guess the signs had always been there. I just chose to ignore them. From gaining a lot of weight in a short span of time, irregular and absence of menses, pimples and acne suddenly popping up like nobody’s business, difficulty in losing weight even after trying so hard…. they were all there. Having the doctor confirm my suspicion felt much worse than I thought it would be although I was already bracing myself for the impact. Granted, I expected something worse. I am thankful that it isn’t so.

Still, I am now a PCOS sufferer. O…k.

It’s quite common but it’s a nightmare nonetheless. Imagine. You’re eating much less than your thinner friend but you find yourself having to try extremely hard to shed just 1kg off the scale. SO FRIGGIN HARD. Then, somehow, everyone keeps telling me it is ‘INCURABLE’. I did a lot of reading and concluded that it’s not that PCOS is incurable. It’s just that even if I manage to loose all that unwanted weight, I will always have a genetic predisposition towards PCOS. It doesn’t sound that bad… right? After the first meeting, they put me on Provera for 3 months and asked me to begin a stricter diet. However, Provera resulted in additional 5kg weight gain so they set me on a different medication for another 3 months 🙁

I’m coping with this as positively as I could. Nevertheless, it hurts when inconsiderate people ask me “Don’t you have children yet?”. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not bitter at all. In fact, I love looking at pictures of my friends and family with their newborns and tots on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter etc although sometimes, there’s this inexplicable pang in my heart (especially when some of them seem to post new things about the babies every hour of the day). Think of it as looking at someone who smiles a sad smile. You’d feel a pang of sadness too, won’t you?

Regardless, I am blessed with a husband who understands me so well, family members who support us and friends who understand. For that, I am determined to survive this. I won’t always be sad. I believe that Allah has something better in store for me in the future yet to come.

I Have a Dream – A ‘Might-be-Impossible’ Big Dream.

Short term dream? –> Finish my master’s, continue to get a phD and run a rewarding small business to fund my studies (and perhaps to afford early settlement of existing loans).

I’m currently enrolled in the 3rd semester of my MA. Ling course and I’m still pretty much in need of money for the tuition fees. When I first started back in January, I thought money would not be such a big issue. However, after paying over RM3.5k in January and realising that I just enrolled in a programme running on a three-semester academic calendar year, I started to panic. With my present financial commitment, I didn’t think I would be able to continue paying for the tuition fees. Add to the fact that my husband is also enrolling in the same programme soon, that’s roughly RM7k per semester per household.

I was overwhelmed. Back then, my Bachelor programme was fully funded by the MOE. Everything was well taken care of and I’m eternally grateful for the scholarship. My parents offered to help BUT I think I’ve burdened them enough over the years. PTPTN is off limits since I don’t want more debts under my name. So, I decided to turn to the only other option that I thought might just work. It’s the only option I’ve never considered before enrolling.


I started small. On March 2014, I launched a Facebook Page for my first few range of custom hijab, ‘Paperkisses by Adlina’. I chose the word ‘paperkisses’ originally because it relates to writing ( I love love LOVE writing!) and I also want to let the name live on. I previously messed up ‘Paperkiss’ under Project Catharsis. This time around, I don’t want to mess up anymore.  Before anything, I designed my own simplistic logo to give my business a unique identity.


I owe it to my friends, Farah and Alif for being so inspiring and supportive. Since July, we’ve been collaborating/sharing booths, exchanging info etc. Only Allah can repay their kindness and hospitality. Later, with my lovely Mother in Law’s support, Paperkisses Studio was registered in September (Reg. Num: 002358838-A).

Our next venture? Probably this.

Wish me luck.


Never thought I’d be doing this. My weekdays look mostly like this:

7.00am – 4.00pm: Work (Official duty)
4.30pm-5.00pm: Sorting out orders for deliveries
5.00pm – 11.30pm : Rest, house chores, university assignments, lesson planning, accepting orders/updating FB or Instagram, online private tutoring, etc
12.00am : Zzzz

* Private eye-to-eye tutoring mainly on Friday/Saturday based on availability.
* Online private tutoring available on weekdays and weekends (English and Japanese).

Chasing Rainbows

At work, my students think I’m a happy person. Some even called me ‘cute’ because I’m short, plump and wear colourful outfits. In reality, I just feel like sitting down somewhere and just cry my heart out where nobody can hear me.

Today, from the moment I started the engine of my car to the moment I parked it at work, I was practically chasing after a rainbow. My iPod also chose the same time to shuffle every sentimental song it has throughout the journey. Seriously, I would have spent a few minutes calming myself down if I was not running late. I just… couldn’t help but cry as I drive to work.

Like I said, it felt like I just CHASED after a rainbow.

The phrase quickly turned into ‘CHASING RAINBOWS’ – trying to achieve something impossible or impractical.

Being able to live in the same home as my husband still seems like a faraway dream at the moment. It’s like the only option we both have is to take a long study leave to enrol in full-time Masters degree. That would mean leaving my sickly mother alone, though. I don’t want to do that. It is an evil thing to do. At the same time, my husband doesn’t have the heart to work where he’s currently working.

I can’t afford to spend over RM500 every two weeks for plane tickets. At this rate, we’ll end up being as miserable as those separated by peninsulas. Other people can pay for the instalment of their first homes with the amount of money my husband and I spend just to see each other for a very short time. We dare not even dream of going on holidays. We just have too little time together.

I’m feeling more and more lethargic.

As I write this entry, I’m having trouble breathing.

I almost had an asthma attack at work today because of stress and fatigue. The form 1 kids from the last class were being too difficult. I shed some tears in class. At work. Yes, I friggin cried AT WORK. I couldn’t be worse than this. At least, I hope so.

KPM, won’t you help me bring back my old, chirpy self who was so full of creative and innovative ideas…or am I just chasing rainbows?

272 Days and a Jumbled Up Monologue

Precisely, mine and Zaki’s 😉

Ever since I sort of lost touch with drawing and writing, I realised I haven’t blogged about the most important event that changed the way things are now. Yeah, I’m happily married to my super loving husband. Now let me have a flashback for a bit.

The Making of the Video

I was calm during our solemnisation ceremony. Due to a funny slip-up that should never be mentioned, I wanted to cry but ended up chuckling instead at that time. Well, it was….um…. funny and everyone else laughed so yeah 😛 It did feel surreal. It was like, wow, one minute I was still a “Miss” and the next minute I am a “Mrs”. Above all, I thank Allah for giving my parents the opportunity to marry meoff.  I hope they’re happy and at peace that all of their children are married and have good jobs.

The next day was our reception. well, he was late for a bit but that’s okay. Everything else went smoothly. One of the hantarans from him to me was an X-Box 360 + Kinect (hahaha I know, I know) so I remember that after the day ended, we wasted no time setting up the console and giving some games a go. It was fun playing games and goofing around in front of the screen now that we could be in the same room together.

Now, 272 days later, I’m here typing this up while missing him. It hasn’t been easy. I’m in Kelantan and he’s working in Johor. Direct flights KBR-JHB  are only available at a very inconvenient time when every soul is working in the mornings of  Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. We’ve been using the KBR-KUL-JHB-KUL-KBR route all this time because of different weekends and distance. It is time consuming and very costly but we have no other choice if we want to meet. KPM apparently wouldn’t approve of his transfer. What’s worse is that his power-hungry autocratic admin is a major fucked-up asshole who probably doesn’t want us to ever meet, making CRKs and MCs hard (well I pray Allah gives her what she deserves when it’s due, perhaps a lonely death or sth).

The only thing we can both do is pray for an improvement – a transfer, better communication and perhaps, better bosses who actually believe in God and not think of their staff as mere unworthy underlings. InsyaAllah.

p.s/ My ranting in Malay language is over at

A mother’s last responsibility and her lifelong dream

It’s never easy to talk about this but my mother makes me face reality every single day anyway. There is no way for me to escape reality because she is always there to remind me. I don’t mind it all that much when it’s true. Most of the time, she’s got a point and her points are always sharp.

Let’s face it. Everyone who knows me knows that I am the only daughter of the family. I am also the youngest child. What do you think the parents’ last responsibility towards a daughter would be? It shouldn’t be that hard to guess, should it? Of course it would be to see that their daughter is happily married to a good man. The ceremony and the reception (or just the kenduri) is also the responsibility of the parents. Why do you think their names are listed as the host and hostess in the invitation card? Sheesh.

Now. My mother has a dream. A lifelong dream of seeing a properly planned wedding of her daughter. This, she told me ever since I was young – ever since I had no intention of marrying anyone (obviously before my fiance found the key to my heart, lol). She is the type of person who likes to plan early. She likes to plan meticulously, as do I. We aren’t perfectionists. We just like to see everything go as smoothly as it can. That’s not a bad trait, right?

She did not get to plan my brothers’ weddings, nope. That was not her responsibility, obviously (duh!). She planned the majlis bertandang or majlis sambut menantu or simply the groom’s reception, which by our norm here (at that time) is normal if it’s just held in a simpler manner. Just a doa selamat would suffice. Well, that was over five years ago, though. I suppose things have changed.

Back to the topic at hand. SO, my mom has a lifelong dream of seeing my wedding reception held at our house, obviously with her daughter and her son-in-law all dolled up beautifully, with pretty deco around us and good food that cost no greater than what we can afford. My parents remind me all the time that the reception is THEIR responsibility, so it will be THEIR money. What I can do is help out as much as I can and provide monetary support only when it’s appropriate. It sounds weird but that’s my parents for you. When it’s their job, it’s their job. I offer my help all the time, of course, because I like to plan too. Buying new furnitures, house improvements, you name it. Sometimes, they approve. Sometimes, they say “don’t, we’ll do that later. Keep your money”. Most of the time, they tell me:

Just let us carry out our last responsibility in peace.

It makes me smile a bitter smile all the time. Always. It makes me happy. It makes me sad. It’s a reminder that we’re all getting older. It’s a reminder that I am no longer a child. At the same time, it’s also a reminder that they acknowledge me as a full-fledge adult now. I thank her for that.

Dear Allah, please bless my parents with health, longevity and happiness. They’ve brought me up as a responsible human being who can now contribute to society. They built comfortable home for their children to grow up in. They provided me with all the necessities I need while growing up and more. Please let my mother carry out her last responsibility and realise her lifelong dream in peace too.

Amin ya rabbal alamin.

Everyone’s mother is different but I would like to believe that every mother loves her children. Every mother is willing to make sacrifices for her children without asking the children to make sacrifices for them first. My mother, I believe, is also like that and I hope I can become like that too one day if I’m blessed with children.

This Eid al-Adha, I also think of my parents’ sacrifices among all others. Happy Eid al-Adha everyone. May Allah’s blessings be with us always 🙂

p.s/ I’ve stopped counting my tears because with every count, my heart aches.

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