I don’t dream of making dumplings

Storytime. My driving examiner told me he was going to fail me right at the start of the test because I started on the wrong lane. He then asked me what my favourite holiday was. I was caught off guard, so I instinctively said “Chinese New Year”, and he blinked at me, then shrugged, “That’s not a holiday is it? I tell you what, it’s Christmas, Christmas ok, and it has come early for you because I am going to give you that driving permit and pass you.” A reminder that I am living abroad alone, and a strange moment reflecting on how I have never really thought CNY to be that important for me to celebrate until now.

This is the second year I am spending Chinese New Year alone and overseas, and somehow it does not get easier. I miss having early hotpot with my small family, I miss making dumplings before midnight on CNY eve, I miss the abundance of cheap red decoration and obnoxious CNY music in NTUC supermarkets, and the sound of loud drums of passing lion dance troupes. The first instinct is to wallow in self-pity — oh the irony of spending time disenfranchised on the holiday of family reunion! The easy fix is to talk to family, dress myself up in red, participate in some holiday festivities.

I think about how I will soon see my Insta stories flooded with people’s annual post on CNY, posing in new clothes in the familiar HDB void decks, or photos of a mahjong table going late into the wee hours. There is still a lot of blank space around the rituals that I was not sure how to fill by myself. I myself am too weak of a warrior to devour a solo hotpot. I have no kitchen to make dumplings like my family always have. There is no one to visit, no angpaos to collect (oh the great tragedy of losing the valuable years when I am still eligible to collect angpaos!)

So the second reaction to CNY is to sink into a much more lasting sense of melancholy. It coincided with a theme I have been reflecting upon lately, about the nature of loneliness and how it is something I increasingly have to grapple with as an adult. I have no idea why the timing for this encounter with loneliness is right smack in my second year abroad when I have theoretically overcome the obstacle of adapting to a new environment and have found my group of friends whom I can call family. I also find myself surprised by how much I seemed to care about loneliness since I had grown up enjoying solitude When and why did this sense of existential loneliness (that’s what I’m going to call it) creep into my life? What solution do I have to manage it?

That is the kind of question I should not be grappling with alone on CNY eve, so I digressed and ate the handmade pineapple tarts I have in my room, I thought about how I cannot wait to pack them to share with other people. I made plans for when I should collect paper cups from the dining hall to portion the pineapple tarts, which friends I should pass it to. I hope they like what I share with them. And suddenly I realised I don’t feel as bad anymore. Maybe it’s how delicious the pineapple tarts were, but I suspect that I have a working hypothesis to the question on how I should deal with existential loneliness.

Beneath the melancholy of being disconnected from those closest to us and feeling like we are just drifting through space alone, I think there’s a self-reinforcing cycle here that keeps us wallowing in loneliness. It’s not for a lack of people I care about, or the lack of concerned friends reaching out and checking in on me. I have been guilty of letting the feeling of isolation stop me from reciprocating and giving back some parts of myself. I have cooped myself up in my room for the past few days and not made plans with others. This might be something that applies to me personally (I have been told that I am a bit of a people pleaser), but I feel like crossing the chasms of human connection between us and others requires the act of giving. Simply receiving from the world around us is not enough. The irony is that in the last few days I have walked past the Harvard Kennedy School, and have stared at their famous slogan multiple times but ignored the clear answer: ask what you can do (and not what you can get). CNY is no thanksgiving, but it feels less isolating when I feel like I can share a part of that culture with people around me — be it in the form of homemade pineapple tarts or blasting obnoxious CNY music.

Giving sounds cliche, but it’s slightly more than the overplayed “mustering courage to lean into other people and give them a part of yourself”. My inhibition to giving that fuels my sense of existential loneliness comes from a general weariness. As an introvert, I feel like there is only so much reaching out and giving I could do without feeling like I have been drained, or worse still, feel like the effort was futile because other people are busy living their lives and don’t reciprocate the way I expected. Growing older has only made that weariness and lack of energy to do anything extra more pronounced. It is so easy to fall into the cycle of not being bothered enough to reach out to others, and then feeling lonely and sad, and perpetuating that further onto myself.

Do I have a solution to that? I don’t. I think there reaches a point where reflection does not get me further. All that is left for me is to start doing it and form a habit that makes it easier to do said thing. For the year ahead, I’m resolved to give a lot more to those I care about — if not for the selfish reason of trying to ease the sense of existential loneliness then at least because I want to be a better family member/friend. It’s a bit late for an official 2023 resolution, but hey, it’s CNY and I would still count it. I’m glad I came to this resolution on CNY eve alone in my slightly messy dorm room. I don’t dream of making dumplings. I will make them and give it to my friends (if I find a kitchen first).