It was at that exact moment when it hit me what inequality felt like.
I hesitate to use the word, because I know the fact that I can be typing this on a computer, albeit a seven-year-old one, means that I am blessed in many ways. But I write this so I can remember what the past few years have taught me…of what it feels like to live with less, and to get used to it.
It was the moment when a coworker complained, “It’s been sooooo long since my last holiday.” “When was your last trip?” I ask, and I try to hide my shock when she replied, “December.” Wasn’t that like last month?? I thought.
As they talked about holidays and travels and shared photos of fancy villas in Bali, I mused softly, “That looks really expensive.” They protested, “No! It’s really cheap, $200 a night only!” And everyone shared a moment of amazement.
It was also in lunch conversations with another group of coworkers. One said she couldn’t see herself here for long because of a sucky manager, another lamented that the pay and benefits in other companies are better, that our company’s medical insurance is not good enough etc etc.
I struggled to make sense of it. As someone who previously accepted jobs with low salaries and long hours, struggled with stress-related health issues with no such thing as company insurance, I could not understand. And the reason I quit? It was always because I had burned myself out too many times. Before this company found me, and I entered a world where people were never satisfied to be content.
Was I the one who had been shortchanging myself all this while, and not setting decent expectations for myself and my career?
…Before I swiftly recalled that my career was the least of my concerns until this year, as there were always bigger fires to fight. Jobs were chosen not based on whether they were good enough for my non-existent expectations, but simply because it was available, it paid the rent and put food on the table.
So no, I realised that it wasn’t because I had treated myself badly. It was because there was no room for expectations or standards. In fact, inequality leaves no room for choice, because all decisions are made based on circumstances.
Living based on circumstances instead of choices can take a hard hit on your worldview and self-esteem. Without realising it, my world had shrunk into a very small space, where all my concerns were limited by what was happening tomorrow. I did not even know what I was going to do next week.
For years (and even now, although we are starting to see a small glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel), whatever money came in at the end of the month was wiped out and divided among the various areas of need. There were no dedicated entertainment expenses, and I would often get judged by colleagues for being anti-social when I declined to have hundred-dollar happy hours or lunch at fancy places. Buying a new dress, or even new underwear to replace worn out ones, would make me guilty.
As for travels? A frugal budget has been so ingrained in my approach to life that I no longer know if it was driven by financial lack, or if it has already become a part of my lifestyle.
Never in my life have I — or would I — stay in a $200 per night villa. Perhaps on my honeymoon? Even sitting across the table from my partner at a fancy restaurant always made me feel slightly uneasy. Was it because I was low-maintenance? I look at other people’s pictures on Instagram and live vicariously through the places I will never go.
The line between nature and nurture, choice and circumstance has gradually blurred over the years. Once in a while I make effort to doll up and receive compliments, and suggestions that I should “do it more often”. Yet I thank them and feel like I am in a foreign body. Is it because the years of scarcity and restraint has left me with a battered self-esteem? I have always envied girls who have a whole collection of makeup apparatus they wield like paintbrushes. At the age of twenty-seven, I have not even tried mascara, and I am still learning how to draw my brows.
I spend Friday night in bed obsessively scrolling through a beautiful girl’s Instagram feed. I do not even know her, yet I think she is perfection. Every quirky and stylish outfit, every fresh face of makeup and confident pose against a generic-turned-artistic backdrop, complete with a European boyfriend with frequent summers spent at the flower fields and beaches of Europe.
She is living my dream life. It could have been me. Wait…it could be me.
It was at that moment, battling with my insecurities and inner demons, when I realised that it should have been like this all this while, if we hadn’t been dealt an unfortunate hand. Instead of jealousy, or an inferiority complex, a calm and profound realisation arrived.
Life in your twenties is supposed to be about fun and adventure, a journey of self-discovery and the promise of a future on the horizon. We should be falling in love and getting our hearts broken, before getting up again. Most importantly, we should be falling in love with life.
It just hit me that being surrounded by people who complain about workplace benefits, travel once every month or two, stay in villas that cost hundreds per night, and have so many clothes that they never have to repeat their wardrobes on a weekly basis — this is not that unusual. At least not in a society like ours.
It’s good to be thankful for what we have and not take anything for granted. But the people around me whom I think are extremely privileged are just living their lives on their own measure of normal.
It then struck me that inequality is accepting that your normal is different from other people’s normal, and to stop questioning why.
I had long accepted that other people’s definition of normal was luxury to me. I nodded and laughed, and tried to blend into conversations and inner circles.
It was a strange unsettling feeling when I realised that my life was slowly starting to climb uphill. And one day, if I wanted, I could be one of those girls with ever-rotating wardrobes posing confidently and fearlessly against pastel walls. Maybe.
But I had not expected this. To feel afraid of letting go of what has been my normal for the past five years (at least). Struggles and hardship, both emotional and financial. Social isolation. Not being able to identify and connect with others. The falling out of social norms by living outside of the family home, and cohabiting with no concrete plans of marriage in sight.
Things are changing this year. It is still hard. But what made all the difference was catching a glimpse of the light at the other end of the abyss.
It is a hopeful feeling, but I didn’t expect that letting go of your own suffering can be difficult in its own way. After all, when you have grown so used to living in darkness, or being confined to a small windowless room, to be given a chance at the world again is beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
Just like what Marie Kondo teaches, to spark joy in our lives, to let the joy in, you have to thank the parts of your life that no longer spark joy, and make room for what is going to matter from now on. Life is going to change and everything is going to be unfamiliar all over again.
The first step is to let the light in through the cracks.
