Diana Kurniawan

I realized I was poor when my bank account kept over drafting more than once in three months. It has been tough, and I won't lie, I went through trials and depression because of it. 

But, today...something changed. I realized that I was poor and I was happy. I remembered the song lyric by Puff Daddy that said, More Money More Problems, and it was so true. I only have problems with paying my bills, yet I pay them all on time. I have problems with not having more money to spend but I didn't need much. I didn't want to be rich like Puff Daddy, look where he is now!

 

I realized that by me being poor, means that everyone else that hurt me was rich and doing well. I stopped comparing, when before I was comparing non-stop of how the haters were doing and I would search online on their whereabouts and their progress. I stopped doing so, and it was freeing. I felt that I didn't need to compare anymore and I didn't need to care anymore because they would all have better lives than me anyhow. I knew I was poor and I might be  at the lowest point in my life, but I didn't feel it. I am grateful that I am not in abject poverty, but I am still low income. Yet, I am happy. 

 

I know I'm single and have no prospects, and I won't be able to have kids, which meant I will be childless forever. Yet, those facts helped me with my day today. By realizing that everyone was married and have their own lives and their own high paying jobs, meant they were busy. Which meant, I might have lost in the game of prominence and success, yet I felt like I was fine. I didn't care. I stopped caring and I didn't owe them anything. I was working my own life and my own time line and my own future. The best is yet to come for me, while I stopped caring whether it was going to make anyone upset at me. I didn't care about the bitches who wanted me dead, because they're probably busy.

 

I always had the fear that someone would be angry that I was happy, that my happiness meant that someone wanted to harm me later. I stopped thinking that today. I realized today that I was so poor that nothing would bother the haters with my life. I realized that I was not their competition anymore and I was no longer in the competing game at all. I realized I was just not going to be a matter to anyone with my life. I am living my own life and my own legacy and it was comforting to me. I know who I belong to, and where and with whom my identity lies, and therefore, those past thoughts won't matter anymore. 

 

I realized a lot of thing today, and it is Sunday today. What revelations did heaven provided for me? It was everything, I believe. 

#JustWrite.

I wrote a blog before this one and it was about how I felt grateful and calm with my life thus far. I erased it.

 

To tell you the truth, I'm afraid. I'm afraid that all people want is my suffering and posting it as a blog so they can savor the moment of my suffering and feel victorious.

 

I have so much fear when I'm writing this blog and writing about my life in general. It hurts me to know that there are people out there who want me to suffer and to work at Walmart all of my life and never amount to anything with my writing and that makes them feel happy. To never be able to retire and to succumb to be a cashier all of my life and become less and less fortunate as the days go on. There is nothing wrong with being a cashier at Walmart, but I want to write. I want to write books that I have in me and share my stories. I wish everyone would wish me well. I wish everyone wants me to succeed and triumph, but that's not the case.

 

It has been my dream to become a writer and I'm pursuing it, but I know there are people who hate me for it. They want me to fail and end at suicide or even better stay stagnant and never reach my potential. I tell myself each day that I have the right to pursue my dream and not have to feel the hurt from others, but there is still a fear. Fear that people who read this blog will use it against me and make me suffer even more. People who would steal ideas and words and use it against me. I worry that those who hates me want malice, hatred, jealousies and death.

 

I'm afraid that my supervisors will even try to get me written up if they know that I'm writing and pursuing my writing on top of work and helping my Mom. I wonder if they even care, but a part of me has this fear that they want me to work there and never move up or leave, but to grow old and become rotund and end in self harm.

 

I talk about self harm a lot because I've suffered from it for over a decade and I believe it was about 15 years. I suffered from suicidal ideations for a very long time, and it still lingers at times when something bad happens to me or someone is mean to me. I still have a hard time getting if off my back when I have anxiety. I get to that point often and I worry about myself so much that I would get even more anxious and it becomes a round about busy thoughts. 

 

I had so much potential, but it all seems to have disappeared and the only thing that's keeping alive is writing. I will try my best and I hope it will be good. I hope people who read this will wish me well and those who know that I'm pursuing writing will also wish me well. I hope I don't have anymore enemies, and I hope my dreams come true. 

 

#JustWrite

I love getting hugs from my coworkers. It doesn't matter what day it is, as long as I am working, I always give people a hug or ask for a hug from my close friends at work. I cherish every person who works there. Mind you there are days when the Honeypot Thief is lurking, but for the most part, the place is pleasant. 

 

This morning, I woke up sort of down in my mood, a bit of depression and perhaps even some fears too. Sometimes I don't know what is wrong with me, either, but my energy level wasn't very high this morning. I woke up with just a little fear and sorrow looming over me, and there was a feeling of impending loss. I went to work and listened to some music and got into a better mood.

I arrived at work and walked to my supervisor who assigned me to a register to look after.

 

The game changer was House. House is 6'5 with long dreds and light skin with dark eyes and dark hair. He reminds me on a stretched out Ice T vertically with a deeper voice. He's so funny and heart warming that I couldn't help but to ask him for a hug. "Give me hug, House," I told him. He came over and said, "Anytime for you," as he wraps me around his arms and I just felt a surge of comfort over me, flowing through my veins. I was so happy I asked him for the hug. We chatted for a minute and told him about my fears of growing old without experiencing marriage or being able to have a partner. I wanted to just even have a boyfriend, but all is at a loss. I am still just praying about it.

 

But, we all needed a hug from House. He was my game changer. Immediately, I felt better. Then Ted came and he was in his eighties but with a soft kind heart of an eight year old. His heart is made of the soft fuzzies found in stuffed animals and I really cherish working with him. He told me, "If you don't want to tell me, I won't quiz you," he said. I smiled and told him, "I'll tell you but we have to have a tea to sit down." I plan to bring some ice tea for Ted and House one day and we can chat in person, even standing up and just chatting over the register. IT will be joy and optimism of an afternoon spending time with Ted and House. 

 

These small moments really helps me. Really really really really x infinity helps me. It was joy over negative thoughts, optimism over pessimism, and so much love and hope over sorrow. I am so lucky to have them in my life and I am so lucky that I have a job there where I work. I am so thankful, and although this morning proved to be somewhat challenging, I was so happy afterwards when I came out, with blessings inside my veins. 

 

#JustWrite

A long drive to Westminster today turned out to be full of anxiety. My mind kept going on a loop of how things will become more expensive in life and I will have to keep up with this money hungry president. I went to the supermarket with my Mom and it was ezpensive! Everything went up by at least a dollar at HMart and the Chinese Market. We had to spend over a hundred for the things that used to cost us just a bit over fifty dollars. I don't know how I'm going to keep up with all this.

 

Then my mind went on a loop of how I might lose my Mom soon, and I don't know why I'm so terrified about this. She is vulnerable but still has life in her. I think I'm scared because she is becoming older and more fragile. I sat on the driver seat and realized that one day I will be driving home from HMart alone and I will be shopping for just myself. I tried to breathe but it became shallow and my anxiety came up. I was scared.

 

In times like these I tried to breathe and listen to music and tell myself that it was okay that I thought of those things. It was a thought that was coming up one day and I have to face it with a brave heart. It will be difficult and I will have to face trials, but I hope and pray that I will be strong enough to come out of it. Losing a parent is tough, and you either come out of it or you don't. I, thankfully, dedicated and spent A LOT of time with my parents and I didn't regret it. I could say that I gave my life to helping them and it was a matter of surrendering for me when my Papi passed away. I know it will be the same when I lose my Mami. 

 

I am toughening myself now, so when it comes time, and I know I won't be prepared for it, I will try to be prepared for it. I have time and in that, I will be patient with my Mom as much as I can. I promised myself that I will care for her until the day she passes this life to heaven. No matter how hard it gets, I will care for her. So far, it's been loving and I'm proud of myself and I'm proud of my Mami who has been a trooper too. Together we will enjoy life together, forever.

 

#JustWrite

After several weeks of moping around in my tumbleweed mentality of being a victim of The Honeypot Thief, I finally gained my senses. I realized that my gig ain't that bad and that person who stole my Honeypot, will get their reward coming anyhow. I didn't bother to say anything to my supervisor but I did mention it to the store director that people have been stealing in the kitchen area where my bag was stored. I was given a locker earlier this year and I think I will put it to good use. I finally found my password and it's going to be good for me to place my sacred items inside the locker. 

 

About the job, and my complaint about being in a rut, well, thanks to the Baristas at Starbucks, I had a moment of some Starbucks Barista Philosophy. It ain't bad. The gig and the whole life, I've got to take things one step at a time. It's not rocket science and the paycheck reflects it, but it's decent and my work is honest work. I don't mind and it actually reminds me of some other scenarios that I would rather NOT be in. Unemployment and homelessness.

 

I can't afford a Mercedes, but I don't really want a Mercedes, either. It's too much to upkeep and if I really have the money, I'd get a Nissan Electric car or a Toyota Electric Car or a Honda. Maybe I'm just a Japanese car type of gal, but who knows...fancy cars don't really interest me anymore. I can, however, afford to put in money for rent with my Mom, and get some goods from the groceries and pay some bills, which I consider courageous, brave and noble acts for my Mom and myself. It's been okay and I'm not complaining. I am grateful for the things I have in my life, and I need to enjoy what I have now with my Mom. 

 

My Mom won't be around forever and there are days when I'm thankful that I have a flexible job that I can take off certain days for doctor's appointments for her and to take her to church. I am grateful that I have that flexibility whereas with other jobs, I probably won't have the same supportive supervisory staff. I am grateful that my job allows me to talk to others and just be myself and to stay cheerful and talkative and just have a strong day, everyday, in terms of communications and interactions. Some jobs requieres you to stay in front of the computer for long hours, but my job forces me to talk and have conversations with people I don't know. It's a perk, I think. I became an extrovert because of my job. I will keep it together inside my head and heart, and realize that no one has a perfect life, and we can always appreciate what we have more and more.

 

I'm not upset anymore and I will take care of my things more carefully by placing them in my locker, and putting my name on it. It's a difficult trough that I went through with the stealing, but I am grown up now and just reminding myself that I won't let those small things ruin my job satisfaction.

 

#JustWrite

 

Sometimes my life hurts when I think about it too much, this time schadenfreude. 

 

I bought a Honeypot maxi pads and placed it inside my bag and stowed it away at work inside my bag, where I thought it was safe for the time being, as I pulled one pad for myself during my period. When I came back to go home from finishing my shift, it was gone. Another time, I got an Ice Tea from Starbucks and placed it on the restroom counter for a minute while I go pee, and when I came out of the stall, one of the coworkers who were there took it and left. I felt hurt inside my heart.

 

Some people at work have been asking about my last name and I begin to become anxious and worried about what they need it for. I'm worried they stalk me on the internet to find this blog or my social media and the things about me out there in the open. To try to find out about my family, my associations, my books, and would use it against me.

 

I got hate mail from my website email feedback prompt that goes directly into my email inbox.

 

I thought about my life again and it began to hurt me again. This time, I think it involves people at work.

 

I was assaulted when I was young and I went to school while I was healing, and got two masters degrees to find work. When my Father died, I couldn't work a normal job anymore, because I have to take care of my Mom. I now work at a Walmart because I'm caring for my ailing Mom. The story makes people sad but I think it makes my coworkers and people who hate me feel better about themselves. I haven't met the person who I am to marry, and I don't think I will be able to have biological children anymore. I think a lot of people feel comfort from that, but to my expense.

 

I begin to think that they, the people who work with me, feel happy and liked me not because I'm such a spectacular person. I think they're happy because they don't feel so bad anymore since my life might be worse than theirs. I begin to think that the schadenfreude is the reason why people at work tolerate me. I don't even know if they like me now, but I know they like stealing from me. I know also that people who dislike me from the past are laughing at me because I'm working at Walmart and the people at the retail store are laughing because I felt such a hard fall in life.

 

Either way, the thoughts of these things, makes me cry. 

 

I don't know if people genuine like me because I'm a good woman, or because I had such a terrible fortune. 

 

Today, I just couldn't stop thinking about the schadenfreude that gives other people comfort from knowing that I've gone through hardships. That they feel better because I might be worse off. The feeling is the same as the time I knew I was raped and was being gossiped as being a doorknob by the rapist's girlfriend. She would tell men around me that I was used and will be used forever and no longer pure. I felt violated and as if a knife was on my back, the blood trickled into my heart and made it sob as tears came out of my eyes. The feeling of the coworkers stealing from me and the hate mails got me hurt again. It hurts, I won't lie, and it's been tough.

 

I don't know if my life will be just full of these sufferings or I will come out of it in the future. I hope I will come out of it in the future, because I don't know how much more I can handle. 

 

Being asked for my last name was the worst, because I felt proud of my last name then I realized they had used it to look me up on the internet and my things were stolen. I have a feeling they think I'm rich because of this blog, and because of my brother, who has his own successes that he worked hard for and deserved. I have a feeling that people think I'm rich and privileged by association. I won't know for sure until I felt their discrimination, but I have a feeling people either hate me or they genuinely like me. I think I'm a polarizing woman, and I wish I wasn't.

 

I wish everyone likes me, and I am loved, but that's probably not going to happen. I have a feeling that people like me because I'm the object of schadenfreude, that I've gone through a lot of shitty things but still alive. I have a feeling people are happy that I sometimes contemplate suicide because of the people who hurt me. I have a feeling about a lot of things. 

 

My hope....my hope is getting there I think.

 

My hope is people do feel comfort in knowing that I've gone through hardships and still willing to work, still willing to live, still pursuing to write. I know the devil will always nudge me and tell me that people are laughing and I'm the butt of their jokes. I know...those thoughts come, but I know one thing. I am with God, and Suffering + Jesus = Faith. 

 

For that, I will keep the faith, keep the crying and hoping, keep the praying at Jesus's feet, and loving God and loving myself, and keep trying to love others. 

 

It's been a rough day today, perhaps I should stop thinking, but I've been hurting and the thinking just processes the hurt....and I will keep writing and praying.

 

#JustWrite 

It was a normal night, but when I checked my email, everything took a dive. I received two emails from the Authors Guild website contact form, from a Laura, with one email that said "Writing." Then, the second email by the same author name, Laura, that said, "STOP IT." I gathered that the person wanted me to stop writing, for some reason of her own thinking.

 

I realized that life has gone bad for that person that she had to go to my website and tried to put me down and to shun my light.

For the purpose of this post, I will refer to Laura as a she and because just as a genderized name.

I was not at all hurt by it, instead I felt stronger because of it. Normally, when I was weaker, I would be devastated by it, but not this time. since Laura had no idea who I am.

 

I am wonderfully made and perfectly made to be in my shoes and with my talents.

I am designed to be a writer, with the skills and desires to compose and write from the simplest prose to most wonderful sentences, paragraphs, stories and books.

I am purely beautiful in my heart, mind, soul and even my wishes are so purely desirable by God. 

I am checked by Jesus at all times, guided and steered to perfection and loved to no end, and it is just a matter of my good choices.

I am a fountain of love pouring blessings into my life and into those surrounding me. 

I am a conqueror who had to overcome some challenges that didn't stop me.

I am envied by Laura and her comrades who has no idea who I am, because they are sorry people who have no purpose or goals in life out of their own comfort.

 

I am an optimist of the future of my fate, and of my loved ones and my darlings who I love, and I am their keeper.

I am made to succeed and to be happy, no matter what the circumstances may be and how many dollars I earn, it is in the joy and satisfaction of my life.
I am made by God, pH balanced by Heaven.

I am made to perfection by the Holy Spirit, and loved by angels and even demons cannot hinder me.

I am a brilliant creative woman with the imagination to write and to create stories that grasp and inspire.

I am a beautiful aunt and sister and daughter of a gorgeous family who loves me.

I am a community of people who love to write and love to capture the billions of words mended together to lift hopes and dream dreams.

I am a genius of everything I am making and creating.

 

I am kind, so loveable and loved by the Holy Spirit, God, and the Son of God, Jesus.

I am a survivor, a gorgeous human being who overcame tragic trauma and hospitalizations that no one should compare their walks with mine.

I am a duly noted woman who surrendered all of her life to God at the feet of the cross that whomever crossed my path shouldn't compare to me.

I am joy incarnate from the anguish that bereft me whence I was humiliated and raped by the perpetrators who hurt me, yet I am joy, still am, and wlll always be.

I am no one you should mess with when it comes to my life and my writing because I have the full divine right to become who I wish to be.

I am with a zillion other writers who deserve our voices to be heard, and I am one of them and they are one of me and we all are together.

 

So you see, Laura, what you wish cannot be done, because I am also with the writers and voices of the world who have our own creative minds. What you demanded cannot be manifested. Simply because I was made from the start with the particles of the ocean vast and deep that was full of miracles and grace that nothing could stop me. I am, and I will always be, I am. 

 

#JustWrite #EnRoutetoVictory

It was a Trenta Iced Green Tea with a splash of lemonade that just perked me up this evening. But that was the topping of the cake, after a whole normal day of work. I must say, a normal day was a handful, but I won't have it any other way. 

I am grateful, for the beautiful altruism that was graced upon me by the Almighty to have this day and evening of pure normality. Not in luxury, but just a normal day for a working class woman after eight hours of her shift, that was my perspective. I am beyond thankful for this and it was because I realized that my normal was what not a lot of people have. There are suffering still, and in the midst of all that, I am still alive. 

 

I could have been homeless several years ago when I was laid off, but that is not the case now and the reality is kind for me. I am so beyond grateful and I don't mind it if my normal will be as is until I retire. I am grateful, thankful, happy and satisfied.

 

I am thankful that I don't have any illness and my mind is manageable with the PTSD and Major Depression. I will enjoy things as they unfold and I am thankful that I can witness and experience more as I grow older. Things could be worse, but it is as it is, and I am so surprised that I am optimistic about it. As they say, growing older is a privilege and the key to its success is gratitude.

 

Several years ago, I would have been so depressed and would become so negative from the mental health. But today, and lately, I have been thankful. The grateful mind is healing me. It is blessing me, and I am proud of myself. From now on, I will give thanks, and praises and worship, and stay optimistic and become the more I am grateful, the more positive I become as the days go on.

 

I know it's my anti-depressant that is working, but that's only half the magic. The magic was me on the other half of the spectrum of healing. I was a believer in healing and gratitude working in tandem, and for that, I won't stop believing. 

This past January was a hard month for a lot of people and February also ensues demands of its own. From the fires of Southern California to the Hurricanes that just passed in December, there was a lot of suffering. Now, in the present moment and in my immediate circle, I saw suffering of my friends and coworkers. From job layoffs, death in the family, ill health, divorces and other broken pieces in the lives of those who did not deserve it. This 2025 has not been friendly nor easy. I could only pray for it to be kinder.

 

On that note, I tried hard to be kind today, and it was easy and paid off. I gave a rose to a friend from a debris of a bouquet that was about to the thrown away. She smiled and felt special. I gave candy and hugs to my coworkers and some customers who I just felt needed the hug and asked for them. I didn't have to twist my arm to be kind, as it came naturally and it wasn't something that I planned. I wanted to do it and tried more than usual. 

 

There should be more people out there who want to help cheer someone's day out of the kind gesture of their heart. To just brighten someone's life even for a moment. I helped bagged groceries for the elderly and helped Mom's without a helping hand with their babies. It became second nature and it was pleasing to me. It felt nurturing to my own heart and I was surprised that I wanted to keep going. I thought it was going to be for a couple of people, but I extended a helping hand to my customers and served them completely. I wanted to do it all day long, for my whole shift of 8 hours long. I supposed my customer service skills were practiced and I was more eager to help, but it felt normal and just like every day for me. 

 

I think kindness became my normal as I practiced it more and more. A lot of people complimented me as memorable and loving, and I appreciated each person who complimented me. It was true that kindness grew in depth inside the soul that grew roots and showed its fruits in random ways. It became a chocolate wafer from a stranger when I was sad. It also became a hug each morning because we were kindred spirits, and because just a hello showed compassion to a lonesome heart. It showed up as a smile from a Jane who was single and elderly who divorced at 25 and never remarried. Kindness became a mini-Spanish tutorial in the lunch room because she just wanted to tell me I was a beautiful person. These people became more valuable to me, and their gestures became gold. I was the recipient of their love and their kindness because kindness recycled from one person to another became love in action.

 

January was tough and ripped out whole lives, and here comes February with its own demand. But we as people shouldn't stop being kind, generous and honorable because it runs through life like a holy ghost that touches each spirit differently, and leaving each life with a blossoming rose. I know I am just one person, but one person can do much and my gestures walks, as my kindness shapes hearts. It kept on going...

 

#JustWrite

This past Saturday was a little difficult for me. A woman had broken up my past relationship in 2012 and it was my last relationship before I gave up on dating. I was broken after that relationship ended, and just wanted to take care of my parents and take care of myself to mend from the PTSD. The woman since then became successful in journalism and her mom paid me a visit at the retail store where I worked and gloated to me that her daughter, the same woman who hurt me, became a big time news editor at Associated Press, and pointed out that I was working and serving her at the retail store. I didn't care what they did and how successful they are, but they hurt me. I was hurt that Saturday and on the day after, I was triggered from the PTSD that I had and couldn't stop the losing thought that spiraled in me and almost lead to suicidal thoughts again. 

 

I realized that they still had a vendetta towards me, and for what? I would never know. I never hurt them and as far as I was concerned, I never tried to hurt them in any way, shape or form. The woman's mother just kept stalking me, first at Rocky Mountain Church in Niwot, then to my retail store and I am not sure if she will continue to do it again or not, but one would never know. I think they will try to do it again in the future to just push my buttons and hurt me, and I think they did it to make themselves feel more confident and egotistical. 

 

I realized now that people don't know that journeys in life are independent and exclusive. The journey of a human being cannot be compared to another and no matter what they will do to me, I will know that my faith is bigger than their cruelty. They just wanted me to feel so bad that I become suicidal again, and they want me to feel ruined and in turn ruin my own life. They wanted a cycle of self harm to happen to me again, but this time, I had friends who helped me, and my faith was stronger. 

 

A woman who I worked with told me that she was a former professor from University of Denver and she has a Phd in Business and Accounting, and works with me because she didn't want to feel alone at home after her mother had passed away. Another friend who retired wanted to be closer to his grandchildren and was a former professor from The University of Iowa in Biochemistry and taught Biomedical Engineering. Another one just retired from his career and didn't get enough social security to make ends meet. Another coworker was a student and just barely going to college in his thirties and needed to make ends meet to pay for his schooling. There are so many of my co-worker and friends who helped me and told me that I was winning and not losing, because I was caring for my Mom and that act was irreplaceable. I found out that I was fulfilling my purpose as well, through helping others while I was at work in conversations, as I took every opportunity to help lift up the hearts of my coworkers each time I saw them. I looked outside of the store and saw the homeless and how cold they were from the bitter winter weather. I sometimes give them my change and often times I would give change to other homeless person outside of other grocery stores. 

 

I took my attention to the Southern California Fires and just donated some monies to Baby2Baby and some GoFundMe pages. I felt complete and thriving, and realized that their words and works of the enemies were just fleeting. It was enough to hurt me and make me feel sad for a moment, but I still know that I was dignified and strong because I am helping my Mom and I am helping myself with my writing. 

 

It took some days to forgive them, but I forgave them. I realized they weren't mature enough to handle life. They felt that they had to hurt others to make themselves feel good. They wanted to burn my candle and eventually lead me to suicide to make themselves superior. It was a common mistake of dumb people recently rising to the top. God will take care of them for me and I know He will bring together everything for the good of those who loves Him. I will keep praying. 

 

#JustWrite