I spent the most of today volunteering at the Society for the Physically Disabled. It was meaningful... but do I feel good? No. In fact, I always feel bad after each volunteer session with a disadvantaged group, esp. if it involves children. And yet, time and again, I plunge head-long into it.

I feel awful and depressed when I see and interact with the beneficiaries. I try to laugh and crack some jokes. I try to brighten up their day and not let them see the sadness in my eyes.

My friends say it is because I am a mother now, which is why I'm more emotional when I see disadvantaged groups, in particular children. They said I could empathise with their parents. True, I never felt this way when I was without kids. Now, I look at children/youths with disability and I wonder about the pains and struggles their parents must have gone through. I wonder if I would be just as strong if I was in their shoes.

Like today, I look at some of the beneficiaries who are confined to wheelchairs, with drool running down their chest, eyes glazed and hands jerking without control and I wonder if they are aware of their surroundings. I wonder if there is a soul behind those eyes, is there a dream which remains hidden, unknown to anyone but themselves. Is there a pain they feel which they can't communicate, a fear they cannot express. I feel awful just looking at them and I am ashamed. Ashamed that I have so many blessings in my life and I whine. Ashamed that I wonder if it was better to be dead than to live like that. Ashamed that I would not have had the strength nor the courage to carry on if I had to face such a cruel situation.

But I know come tomorrow; come the day after tomorrow; I'll gradually forget the lessons I learnt today. And I'll again volunteer for another session which will jolt me into misery and make me realise I am a priviledged person.