Sleepless nights

Again I can’t sleep. I’ve been having sleepless nights, nights in which I lie in bed, close my eyes and try to make myself sleep, but cannot. I curl up, hug myself, hoping that would do the trick, but nothing seems to help. Though physically tired, my head seems to be racing, seems to be filled with thoughts, worries, fantasies and fears.

Since I can’t sleep, might as wake up and write. Maybe by the time I finish this, and maybe when I get my mind down in words, I’ll be more…relieved.

Ten more days, and I’ll be older. I guess that’s one of the many things ‘bothering’ me recently. It seems like ever since the beginning of this year I’ve been feeling really agitated and empty, more empty than before. At first I thought the feeling, like all the things in life that are impermanent, would go away, but falling ill, and the bouts of not so pleasant weather recently hasn’t helped to lift my mood. It’s like inside there’s a voice crying out, at what or at whom I don’t know. But there seems to be some being deep inside trying to tell me something. It’s a mixture of feelings… of loneliness, of fear, of fear of rejection, of fear of failure, of longing and, perhaps, most of all, of hopelessness. I’m not sure if there’s one thing that I can point to as the source of all these negative emotions that have been pulling me down and making me depressive.

Next week, both my parents will be coming over to visit. It’s for the celebration of the lunar new year, during which traditionally families come together. Despite having horrendous amounts of work and deadlines in the next few weeks, and despite the fact I might have to go away to attend a three-day seminar in Belgium, I do look forward to seeing mum and dad again.

I’ve not seen them for almost a year, and this visit will be the first time in over five that both my mum and dad will be here. The fact that it’ll soon be my 23^rd birthday just made me realise that it’s been almost ten years since I last permanently lived with my parents. All these years by myself, thousands of kilometers of oceans and lands apart, I’ve grown up without them. It was a choice they made, a sacrifice even, to live me here in Europe so that I could have a better education. No doubt they were wonderful in providing me with all I ever need and so, so much more. No doubt they have my interests and my future in mind. But it all came at the cost of time together. The teenage years passed like a distant and vague memory.

I still remember that day when they left, that moment at the airport, me a little kid in tears waving goodbye to his parents. I somehow knew deep inside that moment would be the beginning of the end of my family. And I was right. Throughout the years the bonds between us became more and more diluted. My brother simply gave up keeping in touch with my parents, while I still harboured hopes that “blood runs thicker than water” and that in the end distance and time would not make our love and care for one another even less. Naïve perhaps.

However much you try to keep in touch, the barriers are still there. There are things you won’t tell to each other because the other wouldn’t understand, or because you don’t want the other to worry. And with time, the gap and distance grows, until one day you can’t even picture their faces without looking at their photographs. It didn’t help that a couple of years ago my dad just disappeared out of our lives without an explanation, and now he wants to suddenly rejoin us and pretend like nothing ever happened. The hurt has been done, and the feelings have become numb over time.

Partly inside, I deeply look forward to seeing both my parents again. It’ll be the firs time to see them both after discovering that they are both permanently ill with cancer. It’ll be so wonderful to have this precious time together, to be next to each other, to eat together, to walk together, to talk to one another and see and touch one another right in front of you. Life is short, and the times together even shorter.

There’s so much to say, so much to talk about… the future, with them, with me (and with my brother). There are things to be decided, even things that now seem so surreal to be dealing with, but which nonetheless must be faced up to before…before it’s too late.

Yet, at the same time I dread to face the façade that we’re a ‘wonderful, loving family’ reunited again. I know it’s pointless to dwell on unpleasant thoughts and unpleasant memories… the past has gone by, and you should never pre-judge the future based the past… but when I imagine and remember those terrible confrontations, arguments, bickering, the cold wars I cannot but feel an urge to just get away. Get as far away as possible and pretend I don’t have anything to do with my family any more.

Partly I want to get close to them, to bring everyone together again and make us all connect like we need to, but partly I don’t want to be involved. For too long I’ve had to be the bridge holding everyone together, the peacemaker who passes little messages because one person is not talking to another. The person who has to smile and dance around like a jester because the mood is so sombre. And I’m tired already, tired of this family I simply cannot quit because I care too much. I want to care for them, to love them all and not have to choose between sides. I want to show and let them know that I don’t favour anyone more than another… yet time and again they seem to be testing me. My longing for a relationship, one based on trust, understand, respect, and most of all, love comes from the desire to prove to myself that such things are possible in the world, despite what I’ve heard and seen and experienced.

Torn… like so often in life, I’m torn. All these incoherent, random thoughts and rants seems so pointless when I read back what I just wrote down… but this is how my mind is at the moment.

Incoherent, random, and ranting. And sleepless.