26 May 2012
Ex's wedding
"I'm not happy!" my ex said with a stern face. And I suddenly woke up, two hours or so after I struggled to fall asleep last night...
It was a tough struggle falling asleep. I arrived at my ex's apartment few hours earlier. It was all fine before bed, just talking and catching up on each others' day and events. But topics were avoided, deliberately. I mentioned few details when he asked about my mum, even though one of the reason why I lay there unable to sleep, and at one point even tearing, was because of the conversation I had with her last night. I was covered using the blanket my mum had given my ex on his birthday, the same one my mum was using when I left her a few weeks back... Having the blanket around me felt especially sentimental and sad...
At bedtime I curled up the sofa. My ex came and asked if I wanted to sleep next to him. I did, I had fantasised about doing that, because it's so wonderful, so safe and comforting sleeping next to him ( or is it just next to someone? Anyone?), but I stood firm. I stood (actually lay...) firm even though he dropped a comment: "There'd be no funny business, I promise..." I thought to myself: "you make a lot of promises. I can't really trust you. Who can?"
I lay there awake for a while. I know he was awake, but I kept on hearing him move around in his bed. It felt so strange for me to sleep on the sofa, and I'm pretty sure he felt the same, and probably was also lying in bed wondering why I'm here and he's there.
I lay there, looked around me in the darkness of the night, and could still see the objects his boyfriend gave him here and there around the room. My resolve stay where I was, despite my lust telling me otherwise, grew more determined.
I dreamed. We were at a busy place, a restaurant of some sort with lots of our friends around. I was rushing around, trying to keep up with my ex who stomped around angrily for some reason. At one point he turned to me and shouted at me: "I'm so tired of you! And for your information, he has a journal too, and I've read it. It's so much of better read than your depressing blog!" This very blog was what he was referring to.
My ex stormed off. I found myself in he middle of the crowd, stunned and hurt speechless. How could say such a thing? How can he hurt me again so terribly and so meanly?
There was a commotion, and a whole bunch of people, a while family, arrived and were preparing to sit down for dinner. I had somehow the knowledge it was him, my ex's boyfriend. I grew more apprehensive as I waited to see him, to talk to him for the first time...
So many people passed us by, and eventually my ex's boyfriend appeared. He was much shorter than I expected, and looked so young, but sweet looking. Out of nowhere my ex appeared and they kissed in public. My heart ached so terribly. Somehow at this point I had realised it was a wedding... Their wedding.
My ex disappeared again. I walked up to his boyfriend/fiancé, and introduced myself. He was nice talking to me, even though there was some awkwardness. The fiancé meeting the former great love of his husband-to-be.
We spoke civilly, no harsh words were exchanged, and he did seem like a good guy. At one point I said: "I just want to tell you that he [my ex] can be a complicated person," at which point his fiancé smiled and nodded, "but you deserve one another, and I wish you both all the best. Please take good care of him..." I started to breakdown and cry, and I ran.
I encountered my dad. He was stumbling around the crowded place like zombie. I tries talking to him, but he did not respond. He had a dazed look on his face, and he looked in such a sorry sight, so unkempt and lost psychologically.
I saw my ex approaching fast, and I walked up next to him. He looked happy, was smiling beautifully until I walked up to him. His smile suddenly turned to a sour and angry face as I approached.
Angrily and impatiently he asked what I wanted. He said: "I'm not happy! I'm so tired of you! And for your information, he has a journal too, and I've read it. It's so much of better read than your depressing blog!"
I was in tears, but managed to utter something.
I woke up
It was a tough struggle falling asleep. I arrived at my ex's apartment few hours earlier. It was all fine before bed, just talking and catching up on each others' day and events. But topics were avoided, deliberately. I mentioned few details when he asked about my mum, even though one of the reason why I lay there unable to sleep, and at one point even tearing, was because of the conversation I had with her last night. I was covered using the blanket my mum had given my ex on his birthday, the same one my mum was using when I left her a few weeks back... Having the blanket around me felt especially sentimental and sad...
At bedtime I curled up the sofa. My ex came and asked if I wanted to sleep next to him. I did, I had fantasised about doing that, because it's so wonderful, so safe and comforting sleeping next to him ( or is it just next to someone? Anyone?), but I stood firm. I stood (actually lay...) firm even though he dropped a comment: "There'd be no funny business, I promise..." I thought to myself: "you make a lot of promises. I can't really trust you. Who can?"
I lay there awake for a while. I know he was awake, but I kept on hearing him move around in his bed. It felt so strange for me to sleep on the sofa, and I'm pretty sure he felt the same, and probably was also lying in bed wondering why I'm here and he's there.
I lay there, looked around me in the darkness of the night, and could still see the objects his boyfriend gave him here and there around the room. My resolve stay where I was, despite my lust telling me otherwise, grew more determined.
I dreamed. We were at a busy place, a restaurant of some sort with lots of our friends around. I was rushing around, trying to keep up with my ex who stomped around angrily for some reason. At one point he turned to me and shouted at me: "I'm so tired of you! And for your information, he has a journal too, and I've read it. It's so much of better read than your depressing blog!" This very blog was what he was referring to.
My ex stormed off. I found myself in he middle of the crowd, stunned and hurt speechless. How could say such a thing? How can he hurt me again so terribly and so meanly?
There was a commotion, and a whole bunch of people, a while family, arrived and were preparing to sit down for dinner. I had somehow the knowledge it was him, my ex's boyfriend. I grew more apprehensive as I waited to see him, to talk to him for the first time...
So many people passed us by, and eventually my ex's boyfriend appeared. He was much shorter than I expected, and looked so young, but sweet looking. Out of nowhere my ex appeared and they kissed in public. My heart ached so terribly. Somehow at this point I had realised it was a wedding... Their wedding.
My ex disappeared again. I walked up to his boyfriend/fiancé, and introduced myself. He was nice talking to me, even though there was some awkwardness. The fiancé meeting the former great love of his husband-to-be.
We spoke civilly, no harsh words were exchanged, and he did seem like a good guy. At one point I said: "I just want to tell you that he [my ex] can be a complicated person," at which point his fiancé smiled and nodded, "but you deserve one another, and I wish you both all the best. Please take good care of him..." I started to breakdown and cry, and I ran.
I encountered my dad. He was stumbling around the crowded place like zombie. I tries talking to him, but he did not respond. He had a dazed look on his face, and he looked in such a sorry sight, so unkempt and lost psychologically.
I saw my ex approaching fast, and I walked up next to him. He looked happy, was smiling beautifully until I walked up to him. His smile suddenly turned to a sour and angry face as I approached.
Angrily and impatiently he asked what I wanted. He said: "I'm not happy! I'm so tired of you! And for your information, he has a journal too, and I've read it. It's so much of better read than your depressing blog!"
I was in tears, but managed to utter something.
I woke up
Another chance
After a series of exchanges by text message, I think both my ex and I calmed down. Nothing can be resolved by texting, and I believe both of us are tired of letting things just drag on unresolved... Perhaps he more than anyone else.
Last night I spoke to a friend whose opinion I've always respected greatly. "You guys have to sit down face to face..." Whatever the resolution, it's necessary to just sit and talk things through. Because that way we will know the other side of the story, that way we will (hopefully soon) know what way this lingering impasse will proceed. After all we've gone through, all the years we've known one another, we owe it to ourselves to talk about things.
So I woke up (a bit too late perhaps...) and had an impulsive urge. To see him. To go to Niagara Falls, where we took our first trip together, where we made beautiful memories just sitting there watching the sun go down and listening to the waters fall.
I know I am disappointed several people by doing this, especially the two good friends who sat with me and comforted me that night when I drank and cried. They'll probably think I'm weak and too weak, and that my ex is manipulative and playing with my heart. But they did say at one point too that none of this is over, and that things will just drag on and on... And I don't want things to drag on and on. O want, I need clarity. Either break off things completely or a whole fresh start.
How will this weekend go? How will the drama between my ex and I, who obviously have strong mutual feelings for one another, unfold?
I hope beautifully, as beautifully as when we fell in love with one another that first time we watched the waters fall.
Last night I spoke to a friend whose opinion I've always respected greatly. "You guys have to sit down face to face..." Whatever the resolution, it's necessary to just sit and talk things through. Because that way we will know the other side of the story, that way we will (hopefully soon) know what way this lingering impasse will proceed. After all we've gone through, all the years we've known one another, we owe it to ourselves to talk about things.
So I woke up (a bit too late perhaps...) and had an impulsive urge. To see him. To go to Niagara Falls, where we took our first trip together, where we made beautiful memories just sitting there watching the sun go down and listening to the waters fall.
I know I am disappointed several people by doing this, especially the two good friends who sat with me and comforted me that night when I drank and cried. They'll probably think I'm weak and too weak, and that my ex is manipulative and playing with my heart. But they did say at one point too that none of this is over, and that things will just drag on and on... And I don't want things to drag on and on. O want, I need clarity. Either break off things completely or a whole fresh start.
How will this weekend go? How will the drama between my ex and I, who obviously have strong mutual feelings for one another, unfold?
I hope beautifully, as beautifully as when we fell in love with one another that first time we watched the waters fall.
Losing her taste
Mum sounded so weak on the phone today. It was just past eleven in the morning, and she said her cousin had just left after visiting briefly. The cousin came to chat with her a little bit, and when she realised mum was tired, she left.
Mum revealed she did not feel well. "My taste is going, and I have little appetite..." That is worrying, because she's already so thin, so frail when I last saw her, and she told me last weeks she lost even more weight. If she has little appetite, how is she going to get her strength back...?
She said she vomited a couple of times yesterday. More than usual. Mostly stomach juices, but also when she ate. It sent a pang of shock down my spine. Is it already so soon? Is it already as the doctor predicted...?
"If there's anything, I'll let you know..." mum said weakly.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Nothing, we'll let you know..."
There is something. Brother wasn't around to talk to, so I couldn't know what was wrong. But something is up.
"Just go to sleep, it's late..." mum said.
Before I could say anything else, she hung up the phone.
Something is up...
Mum revealed she did not feel well. "My taste is going, and I have little appetite..." That is worrying, because she's already so thin, so frail when I last saw her, and she told me last weeks she lost even more weight. If she has little appetite, how is she going to get her strength back...?
She said she vomited a couple of times yesterday. More than usual. Mostly stomach juices, but also when she ate. It sent a pang of shock down my spine. Is it already so soon? Is it already as the doctor predicted...?
"If there's anything, I'll let you know..." mum said weakly.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Nothing, we'll let you know..."
There is something. Brother wasn't around to talk to, so I couldn't know what was wrong. But something is up.
"Just go to sleep, it's late..." mum said.
Before I could say anything else, she hung up the phone.
Something is up...
24 May 2012
Tears of sadness
I cried, really cried for the first time since I left home. My friends had to hold me and comfort me, but the tears could not stop flowing.
"It's ok, let it out. You'll feel better..." I felt somewhat better after crying and after drinking myself silly. I've never done anything like it, but my friends insisted I go out and drink, let the hurt and pain, sorrow and sense of betrayal be drowned by glasses of sangria. I did not go home. I was scared to go home. I slept at a friend's place, but only for an hour or two before suddenly being 'shocked' awake. And I lay in bed for hours, with thoughts rushing through my mind...
I found out the truth of why my ex was not in NYC this weekend. Whether he did or did not go to much lengths to try and find a way to get there and see me is another matter. But what is telling is that he spent the weekend here with friends and with his boyfriend.
Yes, contrary to what I have believed or wanted to believe, my ex is still together with the guy. Amazing, three months after my ex wrote to me pouring out his feelings for me, and telling me he'd "deal" his his situation, he's still not dealt with it. He wanted to wait for an opportune time, explaining that he did not want to give his boyfriend pressure while he's doing his finals. Valid excuse. But was there no opportune moment over the course o three months? Or was the will to break up simply not there, and my ex was saying to me all these things just to "get to me"? Deep down, only he knows the truth, only he must sleep at night with a conscience. I don't know what to believe anymore when he tells me things.
Most painful of all, as I heard from my friends, all the time I have been away, my ex has been walking around with his boyfriend as if it were the most normal thing. I was replaced, and his boyfriend brought into our circle of friends. Everyone found it bizarre, dishonest, and questioned my ex how he could put on this charade of a relationship, make the other person believe there is something meaningful there, whereas all the time my ex tried and tried to reach me and to declare his true feelings for me. Oh, people know. They it's such a joke what my ex has been up to, such immaturity of trying to hide things and pretend things are alright, when deep down there are so many uncomfortable things unsaid. And they pity the other person, who is much younger and seems to have no idea my ex is playing two people's hearts at the same time and seemingly enjoying it in the mean time.
Nobody can know what my ex is feeling, why he does the things he does. And god knows he is torn and breaking up deep inside. But really a lot of it is his own doing. Letting things drag on and on and not wanting to deal with issues, and with time things get worse, feelings are intensified, and the hurt is much deeper.
My ex and I exchanged a number of text messages. I told him how much it hurts to find out he slept with me, kissed me so passionately (like never before...) and yet he's still with his boyfriend. How could he sleep at night, I asked him. How can he hurt me like this, knowing all difficult, difficult issues of death and illness I've had to face and am still facing surrounding my mum's condition? I said I'm already so vulnerable right now, and finding out how he's not been completely honest with me, and even slept with me the night after he was with another guy, made me feel so sick.
He hit back at me. He said it was tiring how I "rub in death and illness" to make me seem like the victim, to make it seem like I need sympathy. That just wounded me so terribly. Because he really has no idea how it is to be faced with death and illness. I wasn't dropping those words as a soundbite for dramatic effects. He has no idea, nobody has any idea until there're faced with losing someone they lose imminently how pervasive the sadness, depression and suicidal tendencies are. He has no idea how there have been various moments I just feel so tempted to injure myself, cut myself or jump in front of a moving bus. Anything, anything to numb the physical and psychological torment...
He lamented how I've treated him poorly ignoring his attempts to reach me for months. And how I seem to have no sense of self-criticism over my behaviour in the past few months.Where was it all coming from? Perhaps in my lack of self-criticism, I am overseeing what I have done so wrong...
True, I admit it, I avoided contact with all the rest of my friends and ignored my ex especially. I just was so tired I from everything I could not muster the energy to pick up the phone and just call me, just start telling people how I'm doing or what I'm facing. And why did I not want to talk to my ex? Because everytime he would just break down and cry. I was/am already hurting, struggling to cope with new and ever evolving circumstances, trying so hard not to cry, but he cries... And it was just so bizzare to hear him cry, when he has everything he wants: the boy he has been after for almost a year, a job (albeit with strange and somewhat elitist colleagues), and a nice apartment in downtown Toronto. He has his health, his parents seem to be alright... and yet for some reason he is not happy.
He told me in all the time I ignored him and refused to pick up the calls, he became so severely depressed and emotional, to the extent it affects his ability to work.
So it is/was all my fault? Admittedly, my fault to separate and distance myself from him, to isolate and insulate myself from his world so he can go and discover what it is he really wants in life. But is it my fault he harbours such strong emotions for me, is it my fault that he chose to be with someone but then realise, or perhaps has even known all the time, that it would not work out? Is it my fault that I shy away and try to focus on my mum, my priority at this critical juncture of her life, and that I simply do not wish to be distracted? Distracted by his attempts to woo me again, distracted by his declarations of feelings for me and seeing and being told by mutual friends that he is doing completely the opposite of what he says he feels for me. I do not need this, any of this...
And to lament me for ignoring other friends, to speak on their behalf and say how sick my behaviour has been over the past few months? how do you just pick up the phone and start ranting, lamenting, crying even about mum's condition? It's not me, I'm not some weak young kid, I can handle things, I can take it, and there really is no need for me to talk to people if I don't want to. How come everyone of my friends could understand but my ex? How come they could understand I need space and time to deal with mum's situation, but only my ex wanted to constantly be updated on news and developments? I told him in so many e-mails why I don't want to talk to him. How can I keep on bothering him when he's starting a relationship,when he told me frankly to move on?
He lamented me for not being there for when he had such "torturous" few months. And he said I never asked about how he was doing or cared about how depressed he became.
None of the exchanges led to anywhere constructive. one thing ks written, and it is responded with a rebuttal whatever was said or dragged out of the past. It was ugly, creating more tensions, and so destructive...
I was so tired. And I am sure he is so tired too of me, of the same old issues that remain unresolved five months on. Is the problem with me? Is it really with me? I don't know, I really don't know. He throws back things at me, accusing me of this and that, which is really just very off putting. I thought I was ready to move on, ready to perhaps talk things through and try to see where we can go from here, but he's still clinging, clinging onto the other boy, refusing to let go, and it seems lamenting me for the great misfortunes of his life over the past few months.
How did we come to this? I thought there was something special there. I thought he truly loved me, at least he said so. But why is it so complicated? It doesn't, shouldn't have to be this way...
Perhaps I should heed the warning others gave me: beware of how manipulative he is, and beware of how soft-hearted I can be...
"It's ok, let it out. You'll feel better..." I felt somewhat better after crying and after drinking myself silly. I've never done anything like it, but my friends insisted I go out and drink, let the hurt and pain, sorrow and sense of betrayal be drowned by glasses of sangria. I did not go home. I was scared to go home. I slept at a friend's place, but only for an hour or two before suddenly being 'shocked' awake. And I lay in bed for hours, with thoughts rushing through my mind...
I found out the truth of why my ex was not in NYC this weekend. Whether he did or did not go to much lengths to try and find a way to get there and see me is another matter. But what is telling is that he spent the weekend here with friends and with his boyfriend.
Yes, contrary to what I have believed or wanted to believe, my ex is still together with the guy. Amazing, three months after my ex wrote to me pouring out his feelings for me, and telling me he'd "deal" his his situation, he's still not dealt with it. He wanted to wait for an opportune time, explaining that he did not want to give his boyfriend pressure while he's doing his finals. Valid excuse. But was there no opportune moment over the course o three months? Or was the will to break up simply not there, and my ex was saying to me all these things just to "get to me"? Deep down, only he knows the truth, only he must sleep at night with a conscience. I don't know what to believe anymore when he tells me things.
Most painful of all, as I heard from my friends, all the time I have been away, my ex has been walking around with his boyfriend as if it were the most normal thing. I was replaced, and his boyfriend brought into our circle of friends. Everyone found it bizarre, dishonest, and questioned my ex how he could put on this charade of a relationship, make the other person believe there is something meaningful there, whereas all the time my ex tried and tried to reach me and to declare his true feelings for me. Oh, people know. They it's such a joke what my ex has been up to, such immaturity of trying to hide things and pretend things are alright, when deep down there are so many uncomfortable things unsaid. And they pity the other person, who is much younger and seems to have no idea my ex is playing two people's hearts at the same time and seemingly enjoying it in the mean time.
Nobody can know what my ex is feeling, why he does the things he does. And god knows he is torn and breaking up deep inside. But really a lot of it is his own doing. Letting things drag on and on and not wanting to deal with issues, and with time things get worse, feelings are intensified, and the hurt is much deeper.
My ex and I exchanged a number of text messages. I told him how much it hurts to find out he slept with me, kissed me so passionately (like never before...) and yet he's still with his boyfriend. How could he sleep at night, I asked him. How can he hurt me like this, knowing all difficult, difficult issues of death and illness I've had to face and am still facing surrounding my mum's condition? I said I'm already so vulnerable right now, and finding out how he's not been completely honest with me, and even slept with me the night after he was with another guy, made me feel so sick.
He hit back at me. He said it was tiring how I "rub in death and illness" to make me seem like the victim, to make it seem like I need sympathy. That just wounded me so terribly. Because he really has no idea how it is to be faced with death and illness. I wasn't dropping those words as a soundbite for dramatic effects. He has no idea, nobody has any idea until there're faced with losing someone they lose imminently how pervasive the sadness, depression and suicidal tendencies are. He has no idea how there have been various moments I just feel so tempted to injure myself, cut myself or jump in front of a moving bus. Anything, anything to numb the physical and psychological torment...
He lamented how I've treated him poorly ignoring his attempts to reach me for months. And how I seem to have no sense of self-criticism over my behaviour in the past few months.Where was it all coming from? Perhaps in my lack of self-criticism, I am overseeing what I have done so wrong...
True, I admit it, I avoided contact with all the rest of my friends and ignored my ex especially. I just was so tired I from everything I could not muster the energy to pick up the phone and just call me, just start telling people how I'm doing or what I'm facing. And why did I not want to talk to my ex? Because everytime he would just break down and cry. I was/am already hurting, struggling to cope with new and ever evolving circumstances, trying so hard not to cry, but he cries... And it was just so bizzare to hear him cry, when he has everything he wants: the boy he has been after for almost a year, a job (albeit with strange and somewhat elitist colleagues), and a nice apartment in downtown Toronto. He has his health, his parents seem to be alright... and yet for some reason he is not happy.
He told me in all the time I ignored him and refused to pick up the calls, he became so severely depressed and emotional, to the extent it affects his ability to work.
So it is/was all my fault? Admittedly, my fault to separate and distance myself from him, to isolate and insulate myself from his world so he can go and discover what it is he really wants in life. But is it my fault he harbours such strong emotions for me, is it my fault that he chose to be with someone but then realise, or perhaps has even known all the time, that it would not work out? Is it my fault that I shy away and try to focus on my mum, my priority at this critical juncture of her life, and that I simply do not wish to be distracted? Distracted by his attempts to woo me again, distracted by his declarations of feelings for me and seeing and being told by mutual friends that he is doing completely the opposite of what he says he feels for me. I do not need this, any of this...
And to lament me for ignoring other friends, to speak on their behalf and say how sick my behaviour has been over the past few months? how do you just pick up the phone and start ranting, lamenting, crying even about mum's condition? It's not me, I'm not some weak young kid, I can handle things, I can take it, and there really is no need for me to talk to people if I don't want to. How come everyone of my friends could understand but my ex? How come they could understand I need space and time to deal with mum's situation, but only my ex wanted to constantly be updated on news and developments? I told him in so many e-mails why I don't want to talk to him. How can I keep on bothering him when he's starting a relationship,when he told me frankly to move on?
He lamented me for not being there for when he had such "torturous" few months. And he said I never asked about how he was doing or cared about how depressed he became.
None of the exchanges led to anywhere constructive. one thing ks written, and it is responded with a rebuttal whatever was said or dragged out of the past. It was ugly, creating more tensions, and so destructive...
I was so tired. And I am sure he is so tired too of me, of the same old issues that remain unresolved five months on. Is the problem with me? Is it really with me? I don't know, I really don't know. He throws back things at me, accusing me of this and that, which is really just very off putting. I thought I was ready to move on, ready to perhaps talk things through and try to see where we can go from here, but he's still clinging, clinging onto the other boy, refusing to let go, and it seems lamenting me for the great misfortunes of his life over the past few months.
How did we come to this? I thought there was something special there. I thought he truly loved me, at least he said so. But why is it so complicated? It doesn't, shouldn't have to be this way...
Perhaps I should heed the warning others gave me: beware of how manipulative he is, and beware of how soft-hearted I can be...
23 May 2012
Disturbance
After a period of relative calm, I became agitated and disturbed again.
Saw a good friend and we chatted for a good long while. I was disjointed and lost when he asked about my mum, but he was understanding and compassionate, as always and offered invaluable support and reassurance.
The topic turned to my ex, and slowly bit by bit pieces of information were revealed. True to my suspicions, my ex seems to be still involved with his boyfriend... He still hasn't let go, he still seems to be clinging on and wanting to have two people at the same time. From nowhere, the irritation and sense of betrayal rose. To think, after his declaration of love for me just after my birthday, after his various attempts to reach me, it seems to be just a show. And I'm beginning to suspect that the reason why he did not manage to meet me in NYC last weekend was not entirely because he was too busy. I suspect he had his hesitations. Of course, I still have to hear from his side of the story... but can I truly trust what he tells me? He can tell me a few months ago that he loves me so and misses me so much, and yet still stay in a relationship with someone. How honest is that? Why would anyone do that at all?
He's still confused and conflicted, still unwilling to let go, and still trying to cling onto me. I should know better than fall into that trap again.
I deserve more than this. I deserve someone who will be there for me fully. I know this, and this guy I met when I was out in Vancouver last week also told me this. In fact, everyone tells me this.
I have a feeling now my ex needs me more than I need him. I will give him one last chance to explain himself, to say what he has to say. But if nothing changes, if he is still drowning in that mess of indecisiveness and still caught between feelings for two people, I will just move on. As he told me to move on several months ago.
Saw a good friend and we chatted for a good long while. I was disjointed and lost when he asked about my mum, but he was understanding and compassionate, as always and offered invaluable support and reassurance.
The topic turned to my ex, and slowly bit by bit pieces of information were revealed. True to my suspicions, my ex seems to be still involved with his boyfriend... He still hasn't let go, he still seems to be clinging on and wanting to have two people at the same time. From nowhere, the irritation and sense of betrayal rose. To think, after his declaration of love for me just after my birthday, after his various attempts to reach me, it seems to be just a show. And I'm beginning to suspect that the reason why he did not manage to meet me in NYC last weekend was not entirely because he was too busy. I suspect he had his hesitations. Of course, I still have to hear from his side of the story... but can I truly trust what he tells me? He can tell me a few months ago that he loves me so and misses me so much, and yet still stay in a relationship with someone. How honest is that? Why would anyone do that at all?
He's still confused and conflicted, still unwilling to let go, and still trying to cling onto me. I should know better than fall into that trap again.
I deserve more than this. I deserve someone who will be there for me fully. I know this, and this guy I met when I was out in Vancouver last week also told me this. In fact, everyone tells me this.
I have a feeling now my ex needs me more than I need him. I will give him one last chance to explain himself, to say what he has to say. But if nothing changes, if he is still drowning in that mess of indecisiveness and still caught between feelings for two people, I will just move on. As he told me to move on several months ago.
22 May 2012
Broken conversation
I try to tell mum my day, recount the touching things that happened to me today, things that I felt were important and that I wanted and needed to share.
But she is too weak to listen, and it was as if she my encounter with my professor did not even register with her. "Ok, go to sleep. It's late..." And the phone hung up.
That hurt. Maybe it was not important or meaningful to her or anyone else, but I thought telling her about how my professor reassured me and encouraged me would make her feel at ease. I thought she would be happy for me, and in turn that she would have something to be happy about during the day. But the story seemed to be so quickly dismissed...
I cannot describe why it makes me so sad. So very sad...
But she is too weak to listen, and it was as if she my encounter with my professor did not even register with her. "Ok, go to sleep. It's late..." And the phone hung up.
That hurt. Maybe it was not important or meaningful to her or anyone else, but I thought telling her about how my professor reassured me and encouraged me would make her feel at ease. I thought she would be happy for me, and in turn that she would have something to be happy about during the day. But the story seemed to be so quickly dismissed...
I cannot describe why it makes me so sad. So very sad...
Seeing my professor
I went into the office today, the first time since before Christmas last year. My colleagues were so excited to see me, and compassionately listened to me recount events (or at least summaries thereof) of the past few months I was away. We had lunch dinner, and it felt as cosy and intimate as ever before. "It's so wonderful to have you back," the secretary said, "We've missed you here." And I've missed them and my odd chores at the institute.
I dropped in on my professor, who is my supervisor but also happens to be my guidance counsellor over the last three and something years. As always, he was concerned about how I am doing and about my mum's well-being.
"It's not good..." I said, hesitatingly, but honestly when my professor asked how mum is. My voice trembled as I said that, and I could feel a rush of tears to my eyes as the image of mum lying there in hospital flashed across my mind.
We sat down for a while, and I recounted how difficult things have been. He was understanding as ever, the wise and compassionate "grandfatherly" figure I have have always appreciated and held in high regard. I thanked him numerous times for his understanding, his patience, his encouragements and support-- something I've done numerous times before already, and also written a whole paragraph acknowledging in my thesis. I was moved almost to tears as I thanked him and gave him a little something I brought back from Taiwan. Moved to tears because, as I said to him, he gave me the time and freedom I needed to complete this degree, and he understood the pains and difficulties I have had to face and overcome in the process. For that I am so grateful...
I also apologised to him, for I feel terribly sorry that he had entrusted with me some projects before Christmas, but I never did find the time to really sit down and produce something of high quality to deliver. Again, my professor was understanding, and he said he does not hold it against me. "There are those who are in much more favourable situations than you are, and they don't deliver. I know you are doing your best." His words again moved me to tears.
I told him frankly often I feel guilty that I've been at the institute, and at this degree, for three, almost four years yet what have I really contributed to the institute? What great achievements have I made? What breakthrough have I made?
He cut me off mid-sentence. "You've not just done well, you've done an excellent job with what you're facing." Being Indian, he said he could understand how I feel and what conflict I feel deep down. "As I have said many times, you are doing the right thing and putting your mother first. What is more important than that? Work can come later, but your mother may not be around later..."
He congratulated me on my "achievement" of finishing off my thesis, and also trying to do everything I can to be with my mum at this critical, critical stage of her life. "Like I have said, you should be proud of yourself for doing so much and doing so well despite the circumstances..."
As I stood up to go, I humbly bowed and shook his hand. In the face of difficult decisions and uncontrollable circumstances, there are 'saints' like my professor who have been around to push me, encourage me, guide me and remind me again of what I have done, and reassure me that a lot of what I do is worth it. Worth all the tears, anxieties, sleepless nights.... worth staying up till the wee hours of the morning just trying to finish off footnotes and editing, because that is the only time I have to work.
Thank you, professor...
I dropped in on my professor, who is my supervisor but also happens to be my guidance counsellor over the last three and something years. As always, he was concerned about how I am doing and about my mum's well-being.
"It's not good..." I said, hesitatingly, but honestly when my professor asked how mum is. My voice trembled as I said that, and I could feel a rush of tears to my eyes as the image of mum lying there in hospital flashed across my mind.
We sat down for a while, and I recounted how difficult things have been. He was understanding as ever, the wise and compassionate "grandfatherly" figure I have have always appreciated and held in high regard. I thanked him numerous times for his understanding, his patience, his encouragements and support-- something I've done numerous times before already, and also written a whole paragraph acknowledging in my thesis. I was moved almost to tears as I thanked him and gave him a little something I brought back from Taiwan. Moved to tears because, as I said to him, he gave me the time and freedom I needed to complete this degree, and he understood the pains and difficulties I have had to face and overcome in the process. For that I am so grateful...I also apologised to him, for I feel terribly sorry that he had entrusted with me some projects before Christmas, but I never did find the time to really sit down and produce something of high quality to deliver. Again, my professor was understanding, and he said he does not hold it against me. "There are those who are in much more favourable situations than you are, and they don't deliver. I know you are doing your best." His words again moved me to tears.
I told him frankly often I feel guilty that I've been at the institute, and at this degree, for three, almost four years yet what have I really contributed to the institute? What great achievements have I made? What breakthrough have I made?
He cut me off mid-sentence. "You've not just done well, you've done an excellent job with what you're facing." Being Indian, he said he could understand how I feel and what conflict I feel deep down. "As I have said many times, you are doing the right thing and putting your mother first. What is more important than that? Work can come later, but your mother may not be around later..."
He congratulated me on my "achievement" of finishing off my thesis, and also trying to do everything I can to be with my mum at this critical, critical stage of her life. "Like I have said, you should be proud of yourself for doing so much and doing so well despite the circumstances..."
As I stood up to go, I humbly bowed and shook his hand. In the face of difficult decisions and uncontrollable circumstances, there are 'saints' like my professor who have been around to push me, encourage me, guide me and remind me again of what I have done, and reassure me that a lot of what I do is worth it. Worth all the tears, anxieties, sleepless nights.... worth staying up till the wee hours of the morning just trying to finish off footnotes and editing, because that is the only time I have to work.
Thank you, professor...
21 May 2012
Silences
Mum sounded sleepy. She said she is feeling sleepy every day. It's because of the painkillers that the doctor has prescribed her. She sleeps well, which is a good thing, but she can sit there and just doze off.
As she talked, her voice was frail and halting. I strained to hear her.
And there really wasn't much to say after she told me about her day going to the park in the morning and sitting by the computer. She did complain a bit about the new carer (the old one was fired because she used mum's computer and wore mum's shoes without even asking permission... And she was too young and somewhat incompetent...), who is attentive and does a good job helping mum with her daily needs, but is a lousy cook. She sounded like she was straining to talk, as if every word took great effort and energy...
I told mum my day, about playing tennis with friends and how I was reunited with my cat again. And I told her about the unseasonal hot and humid spell we have been having for a couple of days. That was the end of the conversation, followed by awkward silences.
I spent an hour or so writing to a friend who lost her mum to cancer last year. She said she still has difficulty coping, and that she sometimes feels like she was left alone. Reading her message added to my fears and anxieties... will I too feel like the world has collapsed once mum leaves me? Will, like my friend, just break down and cry so hard when I think back to memories of mum? I wrote to my friend, describing briefly how life has been over the past two, three months. But my words felt so inadequate, felt so unfeeling. They did not do justice to all the motions and experiences that mum and I shared. No words can ever recount how difficult, and yet touching at the same time, this entire episode till last week in Taiwan has been. The way I wrote and described the events felt like I was narrating a story, but in a way that was sterile and weak, in a way that removed all humanness and heart-felt emotions of the entire experience, that robbed all the suffering, the fears, tears and glimmers of hope of all meaning...
Perhaps I am just too tired. Too tired to write these days, too tired to describe what I am feeling inside. Too tired to structure my thoughts and emotions, and out pours words that when I come back to read are so confused and disjointed. Words that do so little to capture the state of insecurity and longings for liberation and love I truly feel inside.
As she talked, her voice was frail and halting. I strained to hear her.
And there really wasn't much to say after she told me about her day going to the park in the morning and sitting by the computer. She did complain a bit about the new carer (the old one was fired because she used mum's computer and wore mum's shoes without even asking permission... And she was too young and somewhat incompetent...), who is attentive and does a good job helping mum with her daily needs, but is a lousy cook. She sounded like she was straining to talk, as if every word took great effort and energy...
I told mum my day, about playing tennis with friends and how I was reunited with my cat again. And I told her about the unseasonal hot and humid spell we have been having for a couple of days. That was the end of the conversation, followed by awkward silences.
I spent an hour or so writing to a friend who lost her mum to cancer last year. She said she still has difficulty coping, and that she sometimes feels like she was left alone. Reading her message added to my fears and anxieties... will I too feel like the world has collapsed once mum leaves me? Will, like my friend, just break down and cry so hard when I think back to memories of mum? I wrote to my friend, describing briefly how life has been over the past two, three months. But my words felt so inadequate, felt so unfeeling. They did not do justice to all the motions and experiences that mum and I shared. No words can ever recount how difficult, and yet touching at the same time, this entire episode till last week in Taiwan has been. The way I wrote and described the events felt like I was narrating a story, but in a way that was sterile and weak, in a way that removed all humanness and heart-felt emotions of the entire experience, that robbed all the suffering, the fears, tears and glimmers of hope of all meaning...
Perhaps I am just too tired. Too tired to write these days, too tired to describe what I am feeling inside. Too tired to structure my thoughts and emotions, and out pours words that when I come back to read are so confused and disjointed. Words that do so little to capture the state of insecurity and longings for liberation and love I truly feel inside.
A start
playing tennis, then having uninhibited fun and reliving childhood memories on the swings and see-saw. Reconnecting with friends, spending time with the ex. There are still things unsaid, perhaps difficult things that are difficult to express, but there will be a time a place for those things. Now, I am just basking in the moment, enjoying the wonderful moments I have so longed for and enjoying the people I have so dearly missed. It's as if I never left here. I can get used to this "easy" lifestyle, this life filled with friends and fun, that I have so missed... It is so comfortable, so very comforting to my tired mind and soul.
Beautiful, beautiful weather, not a cloud in the sky-- as if there were not a single worry in the world. But another world, filled with stress and anxieties in a whole different place with completely different people in my life, is but a thought away...
Beautiful, beautiful weather, not a cloud in the sky-- as if there were not a single worry in the world. But another world, filled with stress and anxieties in a whole different place with completely different people in my life, is but a thought away...
20 May 2012
Succumbing to feelings
I promised myself I wouldn't not give in... I held back, and I think he did too.
But who was I feeling? How can two people, who have had strong feelings, physical and emotional attachments to one another, restrain themselves lying next to one another?
It was powerful, beautiful, lustful, and deeply invigorating. But it was also scary and I found myself questioning: What does this all mean? These passionate kisses, these soothing touches and strokes, these whispers of "I miss you sooo much"? What do they mean? Is there but me in his world, or am I just a shadow, a ghost he cannot dispel? I asked myself as I let go of my senses and surrendered to my desires "He is with me now, but who was he with yesterday? Who will be with tomorrow?"
Those are the unspoken things, the unasked and unanswered questions.
At the time, as our bodies and lips melted into one another, the answers and questions did not matter.
But afterwards the hesitation, insecurity and doubts haunted my thoughts and quelled my initial enthusiasm to be drawn closer to my ex. Because it could all just be temporarily. And I could be hurt all over again, and again and again.
But who was I feeling? How can two people, who have had strong feelings, physical and emotional attachments to one another, restrain themselves lying next to one another?
It was powerful, beautiful, lustful, and deeply invigorating. But it was also scary and I found myself questioning: What does this all mean? These passionate kisses, these soothing touches and strokes, these whispers of "I miss you sooo much"? What do they mean? Is there but me in his world, or am I just a shadow, a ghost he cannot dispel? I asked myself as I let go of my senses and surrendered to my desires "He is with me now, but who was he with yesterday? Who will be with tomorrow?"
Those are the unspoken things, the unasked and unanswered questions.
At the time, as our bodies and lips melted into one another, the answers and questions did not matter.
But afterwards the hesitation, insecurity and doubts haunted my thoughts and quelled my initial enthusiasm to be drawn closer to my ex. Because it could all just be temporarily. And I could be hurt all over again, and again and again.
Resting place
I woke up to a picture my brother sent me. Picture of mum's final resting place. I immediately called home and spoke to them for a while.
Mum I spoke to only briefly. Perhaps it's mr imposing meaning, but she sounded... content and calmer than before. She told me about her day out, how she was in my uncle (her brother's) new suv and how it wasn't as bad a journey as she imagined, for the new car was comfortable
and she could lie down and rest.
They drove to two places, and decided to settle at the same urn tower where dad's remains are kept.
"It's a good location, with good energy. I feel more at ease now that this has been decided..." Again, there was a hint of contentment in mum's voice. Contentment which I hope will last and shield her from whatever ordeals she must face in the coming period.
Brother filled me in on the rest. I listened most of the time, listened and imagined what the place looks like. I can imagine fairly well, for four years ago when dad passed away, we went looked around the same facility for a while before deciding on a place for him. So I know what the sixth, top, floor of the building looks like.
I listened and closed my eyes as brother told me about how their day was, and later how he got mum's will out of the deposit box because she'd like to make some changes. It's very heavy to deal with, and I had to lie down again and compose myself before starting my day. Again, there was a deep sense of and sense of alienation surrounding this all. I am here, half way around the world, while over there important things are ring decided.
What is my contribution to this all? Is all I must do now just go and attend the funeral...?
Mum I spoke to only briefly. Perhaps it's mr imposing meaning, but she sounded... content and calmer than before. She told me about her day out, how she was in my uncle (her brother's) new suv and how it wasn't as bad a journey as she imagined, for the new car was comfortable
and she could lie down and rest.
They drove to two places, and decided to settle at the same urn tower where dad's remains are kept.
"It's a good location, with good energy. I feel more at ease now that this has been decided..." Again, there was a hint of contentment in mum's voice. Contentment which I hope will last and shield her from whatever ordeals she must face in the coming period.
Brother filled me in on the rest. I listened most of the time, listened and imagined what the place looks like. I can imagine fairly well, for four years ago when dad passed away, we went looked around the same facility for a while before deciding on a place for him. So I know what the sixth, top, floor of the building looks like.
I listened and closed my eyes as brother told me about how their day was, and later how he got mum's will out of the deposit box because she'd like to make some changes. It's very heavy to deal with, and I had to lie down again and compose myself before starting my day. Again, there was a deep sense of and sense of alienation surrounding this all. I am here, half way around the world, while over there important things are ring decided.
What is my contribution to this all? Is all I must do now just go and attend the funeral...?
19 May 2012
Resting place
Just called home. No one was home.
Called mum's mobile, and brother picked up. They're out. Out looking at a possible urn tower where mum could be placed "afterwards".
Should I not be there while such a decision is being made?
Called mum's mobile, and brother picked up. They're out. Out looking at a possible urn tower where mum could be placed "afterwards".
Should I not be there while such a decision is being made?
Where there is a will...
There is a wei.
A few weeks ago an idea popped into my head. I remember I was in the hospital, with mum, who lay there asleep. My mind drifted to images of someone, who throughout my difficult moments, and moments of pain and despair seems to have the ability to lift me up-- even if we have not talked for a long, long time. In my moments of despair, hopelessness, my mind somehow, wrongly or rightly, drifts to my ex...
I fantasised about us meeting again, how special that would be after all this time. Even more special after he told me, explicitly and implicitly, how much he misses me, how important I seem to be in his life.
He once told me about a dream of his, and that is to walk on the Brooklyn Bridge with the person he truly loves. My mind put that knowledge with the longing to see him again in a special setting. So I wrote him a card, told him where I'd be and when, and said if he truly feels what he tells me, perhaps we could meet there on Brooklyn Bridge.
It seemed like a simple plan. A beautiful and wonderfully romantic idea. Two people, who obviously have feelings for one another, who obviously miss one another so much, and who know deep down there is still some potential in developing something special and something lasting, meeting at a most romantic setting at a most romantic time (dusk). "Perhaps it could be a new dawn..." I wrote him.
At first he told me he'd like to be there, he can be there. This was a week ago. I fantasised about our meeting. I dreamed and smiled just at the thought of seeing him again on the bridge that is so meaningful to him.
A few days ago he wrote me and said the timing is bad, for he needs to arrange to move things out of his old apartment. I was disappointed, yet I still clung onto hope of perhaps being able to see him...
Now, right now, the original plan is supposed to fall into place. At this very moment, at dusk, on Brooklyn Bridge, on the Brooklyn side. In my fantasies, I would stand on the bridge, stare out at the skyline of Manhattan. And suddenly out of nowhere he would find me and call out my name... We would look into one another's eyes, we would hug. I would kiss him. I would whisper softly in his ears: "I've missed you so much..."
But now, at this very moment, I am in a small-town in NJ. He is in Montreal (I believe). He told me there are no available flights. Hotels are prohibitively expensive (I agree). He tells me he is very apologetic he cannot be (t)here with me. And he offers me other places and opportunities to meet. But I am not interested.
How disappointed I truly am. All those moments I imagined him being my source of comfort and support, and now it's just a great letdown. I cannot and should not be too harsh on him. I cannot know how tired my ex is from his work and having to deal with the stress of moving over the weekend. I cannot imagine what he is thinking, what he is truly feeling, and whether he truly means what he says.
But where there is a will, there is a Wei, right? What would you do to prove to someone how much they mean to you? What extremes would you go to to show sincerity in your word and what you really mean when you tell someone you love him and have always loved him? I know what I would do. I know I would find a way, journey through the night if I must. Just spend an hour with that special someone, if it comes to that. But I would be there. I would seize the chance I have been given again, and prove I am true to my word, true to my heart...
I am here, in NJ. I will be in NYC tomorrow, on the bridge in the afternoon (2-4) just before my flight in the evening.
Even if I am alone, I owe it to myself to fulfil my dream of standing on the bridge and admiring the manhattan skyline. Even if alone, I can dream of one day standing there with the one true person who loves me , who would go the extremes and lengths to show his care and love for me. Even if I am alone, I can do something terribly romantic and beautiful too. (well, I won't be alone, for my stuffed animals would be with me...)
A few weeks ago an idea popped into my head. I remember I was in the hospital, with mum, who lay there asleep. My mind drifted to images of someone, who throughout my difficult moments, and moments of pain and despair seems to have the ability to lift me up-- even if we have not talked for a long, long time. In my moments of despair, hopelessness, my mind somehow, wrongly or rightly, drifts to my ex...
I fantasised about us meeting again, how special that would be after all this time. Even more special after he told me, explicitly and implicitly, how much he misses me, how important I seem to be in his life.
He once told me about a dream of his, and that is to walk on the Brooklyn Bridge with the person he truly loves. My mind put that knowledge with the longing to see him again in a special setting. So I wrote him a card, told him where I'd be and when, and said if he truly feels what he tells me, perhaps we could meet there on Brooklyn Bridge.
It seemed like a simple plan. A beautiful and wonderfully romantic idea. Two people, who obviously have feelings for one another, who obviously miss one another so much, and who know deep down there is still some potential in developing something special and something lasting, meeting at a most romantic setting at a most romantic time (dusk). "Perhaps it could be a new dawn..." I wrote him.
At first he told me he'd like to be there, he can be there. This was a week ago. I fantasised about our meeting. I dreamed and smiled just at the thought of seeing him again on the bridge that is so meaningful to him.
A few days ago he wrote me and said the timing is bad, for he needs to arrange to move things out of his old apartment. I was disappointed, yet I still clung onto hope of perhaps being able to see him...
Now, right now, the original plan is supposed to fall into place. At this very moment, at dusk, on Brooklyn Bridge, on the Brooklyn side. In my fantasies, I would stand on the bridge, stare out at the skyline of Manhattan. And suddenly out of nowhere he would find me and call out my name... We would look into one another's eyes, we would hug. I would kiss him. I would whisper softly in his ears: "I've missed you so much..."
But now, at this very moment, I am in a small-town in NJ. He is in Montreal (I believe). He told me there are no available flights. Hotels are prohibitively expensive (I agree). He tells me he is very apologetic he cannot be (t)here with me. And he offers me other places and opportunities to meet. But I am not interested.
How disappointed I truly am. All those moments I imagined him being my source of comfort and support, and now it's just a great letdown. I cannot and should not be too harsh on him. I cannot know how tired my ex is from his work and having to deal with the stress of moving over the weekend. I cannot imagine what he is thinking, what he is truly feeling, and whether he truly means what he says.
But where there is a will, there is a Wei, right? What would you do to prove to someone how much they mean to you? What extremes would you go to to show sincerity in your word and what you really mean when you tell someone you love him and have always loved him? I know what I would do. I know I would find a way, journey through the night if I must. Just spend an hour with that special someone, if it comes to that. But I would be there. I would seize the chance I have been given again, and prove I am true to my word, true to my heart...
I am here, in NJ. I will be in NYC tomorrow, on the bridge in the afternoon (2-4) just before my flight in the evening.
Even if I am alone, I owe it to myself to fulfil my dream of standing on the bridge and admiring the manhattan skyline. Even if alone, I can dream of one day standing there with the one true person who loves me , who would go the extremes and lengths to show his care and love for me. Even if I am alone, I can do something terribly romantic and beautiful too. (well, I won't be alone, for my stuffed animals would be with me...)
Dream
Was it one dream or two? They were somehow related.
One was brief, involving my ex. We were walking around together, in a busy city until we came to a bridge. (That much i could remember...)
The next dream involved something sad and happy. The happy bit involved my whole family going to a venue to plan a wedding, my brother's wedding. (strange because he already had one in real life...) Then the next scene, which lasted a while was one in which dad appeared.
He was lying in a bed, dying. Mum, brother and I gathered by his side. We talked and laughed, it was not sad. Dad was giving advice to mum, about how to "go". They talked about death, about grandma's passing, about how there were many unspoken things and a lot of regret.
Mum was in tears. She said at grandma's deathbed grandma apologised to mum for being picky and difficult. Mum cried because she said she had tried so hard ever since she came into dad's family, yet she never got approval from dad's relatives. But when grandma passed, she asked for forgiveness, and grandma told mum she knew and could see mum did more than was expected of her.
Brother was in the room with his wife, but he seemed frustrated. I found myself on dad's bed, leaned in close to dad and was in tears. On his quilt were a bunch of writing and numbers I could not decipher, but they seemed to tell me something. Mum was sitting by dad's bedside, looking sad. They were still talking about death and dying...
One was brief, involving my ex. We were walking around together, in a busy city until we came to a bridge. (That much i could remember...)
The next dream involved something sad and happy. The happy bit involved my whole family going to a venue to plan a wedding, my brother's wedding. (strange because he already had one in real life...) Then the next scene, which lasted a while was one in which dad appeared.
He was lying in a bed, dying. Mum, brother and I gathered by his side. We talked and laughed, it was not sad. Dad was giving advice to mum, about how to "go". They talked about death, about grandma's passing, about how there were many unspoken things and a lot of regret.
Mum was in tears. She said at grandma's deathbed grandma apologised to mum for being picky and difficult. Mum cried because she said she had tried so hard ever since she came into dad's family, yet she never got approval from dad's relatives. But when grandma passed, she asked for forgiveness, and grandma told mum she knew and could see mum did more than was expected of her.
Brother was in the room with his wife, but he seemed frustrated. I found myself on dad's bed, leaned in close to dad and was in tears. On his quilt were a bunch of writing and numbers I could not decipher, but they seemed to tell me something. Mum was sitting by dad's bedside, looking sad. They were still talking about death and dying...
In Perrineville
Spoke to mum just now. A brief conversation. I hesitated whether to tell her where I am, for she never did have a liking for my aunt in the US. but I told mum anyways, just to let her know and not have to hide things.
It was a very brief conversation, and I explained how it is that it costs more to fly direct to Montreal than it does to fly to Montreal and then New York (Newark). It didn't not matter, really. It was just making conversation... Making conversation, as she was doing telling me she just went to market in her wheelchair. Anything to make conversation, to distract from it all...
Mum quickly put me through to brother. "Mum's been losing weight..." she's 41 now, down from 43kg a few days ago. It's strange why she's losing weight. Or is it? It's the cancer. It's eating her from the inside. She's being fed by the (new) carer. Too weak to eat by herself...
I did not flinch. I did not cry.
It's as if those words, the description of mum's condition, the talk about mum's eventual arrangements washed over me completely. A friend of mum's came to see her yesterday. She cried seeing mum. I heard what was said. But I did not flinch. I did not cry.
Am I unfeeling? Am I numb? Am I deaf or just suppressing it all? Perhaps all the feelings of pain, pain, deep deep pain is falling into a hole, a hole that is fast filling and will one day burst out...
What am I doing here, in this small town in the middle of nowhere? What am I doing being surrounded by open countryside, stars and such tranquility?
It's all so surreal.
It was a very brief conversation, and I explained how it is that it costs more to fly direct to Montreal than it does to fly to Montreal and then New York (Newark). It didn't not matter, really. It was just making conversation... Making conversation, as she was doing telling me she just went to market in her wheelchair. Anything to make conversation, to distract from it all...
Mum quickly put me through to brother. "Mum's been losing weight..." she's 41 now, down from 43kg a few days ago. It's strange why she's losing weight. Or is it? It's the cancer. It's eating her from the inside. She's being fed by the (new) carer. Too weak to eat by herself...
I did not flinch. I did not cry.
It's as if those words, the description of mum's condition, the talk about mum's eventual arrangements washed over me completely. A friend of mum's came to see her yesterday. She cried seeing mum. I heard what was said. But I did not flinch. I did not cry.
Am I unfeeling? Am I numb? Am I deaf or just suppressing it all? Perhaps all the feelings of pain, pain, deep deep pain is falling into a hole, a hole that is fast filling and will one day burst out...
What am I doing here, in this small town in the middle of nowhere? What am I doing being surrounded by open countryside, stars and such tranquility?
It's all so surreal.
Talks
It's like I don't hear it. Brother tells me about talks he has been having with mum. Talks about her "arrangements". Where to go, what to do, how and all the details when she is no longer around.
I've had theses conversations with mum before. And at those times, it feel so natural, so simple to talk about death. Perhaps because death didn't seem so close. At least, never as close as now. And it frightens me. It intimidates me so.
The cancer is eating away her intestines, her pancreas. God only knows where else and how else mum will be affected. All I can think of is how is she feeling. How is mum taking all this? How is mum feeling deep down, knowing that there may not be much time left? A thought comes to me: what is the point of all these days, these final days when you know where things are headed?
These questions never bothered me, or at least not as much as they do now. I am so afraid that she is afraid and uneasy inside. Those thoughts dominate my mind nowadays, and suppress even my own feelings toward all this. I am confused, broken, lost. Perhaps you have noticed from the very disjointed and incoherent way I've been writing these days.
"Should I head back?" I asked mum yesterday. And I asked the same question to my brother. They both told me to stay. It's not time yet. One day it will be, and I need to prepare for that. But now is not yet the time.
I need to make the most of my time here, time when I am away from it all to recuperate, to gather strength and courage. Because I have a feeling the next time I am back home, it might very well be a longer and more difficult stay.
I've had theses conversations with mum before. And at those times, it feel so natural, so simple to talk about death. Perhaps because death didn't seem so close. At least, never as close as now. And it frightens me. It intimidates me so.
The cancer is eating away her intestines, her pancreas. God only knows where else and how else mum will be affected. All I can think of is how is she feeling. How is mum taking all this? How is mum feeling deep down, knowing that there may not be much time left? A thought comes to me: what is the point of all these days, these final days when you know where things are headed?
These questions never bothered me, or at least not as much as they do now. I am so afraid that she is afraid and uneasy inside. Those thoughts dominate my mind nowadays, and suppress even my own feelings toward all this. I am confused, broken, lost. Perhaps you have noticed from the very disjointed and incoherent way I've been writing these days.
"Should I head back?" I asked mum yesterday. And I asked the same question to my brother. They both told me to stay. It's not time yet. One day it will be, and I need to prepare for that. But now is not yet the time.
I need to make the most of my time here, time when I am away from it all to recuperate, to gather strength and courage. Because I have a feeling the next time I am back home, it might very well be a longer and more difficult stay.
Departure gate
Same departure gate, different times, different mindset, different reason for flying.
Same person, same little insignificant human being trying to do the best he can with the life he has
Same person, same little insignificant human being trying to do the best he can with the life he has
18 May 2012
YVR-YUL
Another flight. When boarding the thought came to me: what am I doing? Walking around airports with a suitcase, pretending to be all important by flying all over the place. Living out of the suitcase, and onto my next destination. Whats the point of it all?
What am I looking for, if anything? One day, when I am old and alone, I will look back and realise all of this was so pointless. All the flights, all the traveling, all those miles... They will one day lose their significance.
What am I looking for, if anything? One day, when I am old and alone, I will look back and realise all of this was so pointless. All the flights, all the traveling, all those miles... They will one day lose their significance.
Starting afresh
I get scared and tense up. I know what the other person is up to, I can feel the touches, the looks and glances. And I am so intimidated by it all.
But is this not what I am looking for, not what I have been craving and dreaming of? And yet when someone is giving it to me, why do I shirk and shy away? Why do I pretend not to notice and pretend none of it is happening? Why do I feel guilty and feel if I live and indulge, I am forsaking mum and abandoning her...?
"I can't..." I said, "I don't want to start anything when everything is so uncertain..." He touched me so tenderly, but I am scared. But is that always my excuse for everything? Is that how I run away from things, because I believe or make myself believe there is something much more important out there holding me back from really living, pulling me back from rushing forward and committing.
How long am I to keep running? How long must I go on living afraid to make commitments, afraid to live for myself?
But is this not what I am looking for, not what I have been craving and dreaming of? And yet when someone is giving it to me, why do I shirk and shy away? Why do I pretend not to notice and pretend none of it is happening? Why do I feel guilty and feel if I live and indulge, I am forsaking mum and abandoning her...?
"I can't..." I said, "I don't want to start anything when everything is so uncertain..." He touched me so tenderly, but I am scared. But is that always my excuse for everything? Is that how I run away from things, because I believe or make myself believe there is something much more important out there holding me back from really living, pulling me back from rushing forward and committing.
How long am I to keep running? How long must I go on living afraid to make commitments, afraid to live for myself?
18 May
Just noticed the date I marked on my handcarry luggage. It's exactly a year to the day. What has changed?
Mum's health deteriorated rapidly, after so deceiving hints of hope and recovery...
My ex suddenly turned around and said it's over, and till this day I'm still feeling the effects of that day, and still trying to find myself, and someone who will never do something as hurtful...
I struggled with my thesis, am set to graduate, but am also faced with unknown prospects...
And I am still travelling, flying around more or less as much as before, despite promises I made to myself not to...
One year on, and what has happened? Where am I in life, in this world?
I'm still trying to find out, but a little reminder that it's been one year already since last year to the day helps to put things into perspective.
Mum's health deteriorated rapidly, after so deceiving hints of hope and recovery...
My ex suddenly turned around and said it's over, and till this day I'm still feeling the effects of that day, and still trying to find myself, and someone who will never do something as hurtful...
I struggled with my thesis, am set to graduate, but am also faced with unknown prospects...
And I am still travelling, flying around more or less as much as before, despite promises I made to myself not to...
One year on, and what has happened? Where am I in life, in this world?
I'm still trying to find out, but a little reminder that it's been one year already since last year to the day helps to put things into perspective.
16 May 2012
Message to brother
"I'm boarding flight to vancouver now. Thank you for being there [...] with mum. I know it's hard to deal with this kind of situation, but we will go through this together. Keep mum comfortable and make her feel at ease. If there is anything, I'll take the first flight back. Take care"
Escape?
"There will be lots of trips to the ER from now..." my aunt said, almost as a matter-of-factly, and I felt it was somewhat unfeelingly, "It was like that with my father." The last sentence made me realise she has been through this before, she knows what it feels like. She knows.
I asked her what an elevated pancreas index level means. She's been a nurse for over twenty years. She thought about and told me frankly at this stage those indices and number don't really matter much any more. "As long as she's comfortable and feeling at ease, that's important."
And I know it. I know deep inside her, the cancer is eating her, wreaking havoc and spreading. I know, and dread to think about it. Slowly, bit by bit mum's health will decline till her organs become affected and deteriorate. It will be fortunate if there is not too much pain. Luckier if it does not last too long.
Being here in Canada, surrounded by beautiful mountains and a clear, clear blue sky almost everyday, it is too easy to forget what I have left behind back home. It is surreal in some ways, that I am here surrounded by all this peace and beauty, and to think of what I have endured over the past few months... Being here is a far world away from hospital wards, doctors and the sight of syringes and operating rooms...
I find myself, in waking moments and my dreams, whether I am escaping reality by putting myself so far away from it all. Am I being selfish again? Do I not care? It pains me to hear when I talk with mum on the phone how she wears diapers every night "just in case". What she must feel, what she must think, to see her own body deteriorate. Imagine, a proud person being physically reduced to skin and bone and being confined to bed most of the time... How she must feel...
I asked her what an elevated pancreas index level means. She's been a nurse for over twenty years. She thought about and told me frankly at this stage those indices and number don't really matter much any more. "As long as she's comfortable and feeling at ease, that's important."
And I know it. I know deep inside her, the cancer is eating her, wreaking havoc and spreading. I know, and dread to think about it. Slowly, bit by bit mum's health will decline till her organs become affected and deteriorate. It will be fortunate if there is not too much pain. Luckier if it does not last too long.
Being here in Canada, surrounded by beautiful mountains and a clear, clear blue sky almost everyday, it is too easy to forget what I have left behind back home. It is surreal in some ways, that I am here surrounded by all this peace and beauty, and to think of what I have endured over the past few months... Being here is a far world away from hospital wards, doctors and the sight of syringes and operating rooms...
I find myself, in waking moments and my dreams, whether I am escaping reality by putting myself so far away from it all. Am I being selfish again? Do I not care? It pains me to hear when I talk with mum on the phone how she wears diapers every night "just in case". What she must feel, what she must think, to see her own body deteriorate. Imagine, a proud person being physically reduced to skin and bone and being confined to bed most of the time... How she must feel...
15 May 2012
In Vancouver
Just checked into the hotel downtown. Small room, a bit pricey, but it has a desk I can work on, and I can check out later in the day and head straight to the exam. It serves its purpose, and that's all I need.
It was a restless flight. I managed to doze off upon take off for half an hour or so. Read a bit, but my mind was very agitated and kept on wondering how things are with mum. It really felt like I was flying back home again, and if need be, I will fly back home. I have the keys and all the essentials, even though I just have a carry on with me. But really, what do you need in life? Less is more, and having nothing you have nothing to lose. I did a bit more studying, if it can be called that. But really, my mind kept on drifting home, drifting to mum, and was very disturbed by imaginations of likely scenarios, and how it would be when mum is no longer around.
First thing I did after I walked into the room (after knocking on the door, something mum has instilled in me, just in case there is "someone" there... And by "someone", it's not necessarily someone you can see...), I called home. Brother told me not to worry, and that they came home late last night. Mum refused to stay at the hospital, and brother signed a waiver for her to be discharged. I asked to speak to mum, and she got on the phone. She sounded very weak, but kept on encouraging me, wishing me "Good luck!" She reminded me to also rest well and eat well.
I asked her how she was feeling, and as soon as I asked I realised perhaps I should not have. If she were feeling terrible, would she say it? She would have to lie, and that would make her feel even worse... And now more than ever, mum needs happy news, positive news, good news, not things that would make her feel even worse. She told me she lost some more weight, down to 44kg now. "Why is it that I can't gain weight?" she asked me. I am afraid to say why, and all I said is that she should eat more, eat more meals spread out over the day.
I chatted with her a bit, and she revealed she was breathless yesterday afternoon. Her blood pressure dropped dramatically, and she felt her heart struggling to beat. It had become very hot and humid, and she was too thrift to turn on the air con...
She's back home. She does not know I know about the complications of her pancreas, and the extreme measure of bile and pancreas fluids in her circulation system. It is good like this, for now. It is good to pretend that I do not know much, and that I will just focus on my exam. Because that is what she would want me to do.
It was a restless flight. I managed to doze off upon take off for half an hour or so. Read a bit, but my mind was very agitated and kept on wondering how things are with mum. It really felt like I was flying back home again, and if need be, I will fly back home. I have the keys and all the essentials, even though I just have a carry on with me. But really, what do you need in life? Less is more, and having nothing you have nothing to lose. I did a bit more studying, if it can be called that. But really, my mind kept on drifting home, drifting to mum, and was very disturbed by imaginations of likely scenarios, and how it would be when mum is no longer around.
First thing I did after I walked into the room (after knocking on the door, something mum has instilled in me, just in case there is "someone" there... And by "someone", it's not necessarily someone you can see...), I called home. Brother told me not to worry, and that they came home late last night. Mum refused to stay at the hospital, and brother signed a waiver for her to be discharged. I asked to speak to mum, and she got on the phone. She sounded very weak, but kept on encouraging me, wishing me "Good luck!" She reminded me to also rest well and eat well.
I asked her how she was feeling, and as soon as I asked I realised perhaps I should not have. If she were feeling terrible, would she say it? She would have to lie, and that would make her feel even worse... And now more than ever, mum needs happy news, positive news, good news, not things that would make her feel even worse. She told me she lost some more weight, down to 44kg now. "Why is it that I can't gain weight?" she asked me. I am afraid to say why, and all I said is that she should eat more, eat more meals spread out over the day.
I chatted with her a bit, and she revealed she was breathless yesterday afternoon. Her blood pressure dropped dramatically, and she felt her heart struggling to beat. It had become very hot and humid, and she was too thrift to turn on the air con...
She's back home. She does not know I know about the complications of her pancreas, and the extreme measure of bile and pancreas fluids in her circulation system. It is good like this, for now. It is good to pretend that I do not know much, and that I will just focus on my exam. Because that is what she would want me to do.
14 May 2012
Gone
Things, images, fears cross my mind...
Just now, I saw myself crying at night, alone in my own apartment. Gone, gone, mum is gone...
And that thought, that image, even though it is but a fleeting one and an imagination of what could be, scares me so...
To the airport
On the metro. The last few hours have been a rush. I lay down for a rest, needed to calm my mind and upset stomach. I can feel the stress mounting again. And it's physically manifesting in bad cramps, cramps I've not felt for a while.
All these images cross my mind... Mum lying there with an expression of pain and discomfort... Mum breathing laboriously... Images of possible futures and potential events that may take place, and that are taking place in the vivid world of my imagination... Rushing home on the plane... Crying at the hospital... Holding onto mum's limp body... Inconsolable pain, pain, pain that will not go away...
I shudder at these thoughts, I feel deep deep fear as these images tear through my mind...
Heading to the airport. Flight in two hours. Another flight. It seems crazy that I'm heading back to Vancouver, where I just was last week. But I needed the time and place to fully concentrate, to be at home and rest in my own bed, to he surrounded by my own things and to recharge. I needed that little reminder that whatever happens, I have a home, I have these possessions that ground me to my life and tell me who I am (yes, it's very materialistic to be attached to my home and my things...). I need that more than anything at the moment. I need that at a time when who-knows-when need to part with the dearest person in my life...
Was it a waste of money to be flying back and forth across Canada just in order to study? Circumstances compel me to. Or perhaps I'm just too spoiled and cannot concentrate unless I'm in a quiet environment insulated from distractions. But this exam is important. Not just because it cost $400 just to register to take it. But because I have postponed it once before already.
And I know mum would want me to succeed, would want me to sit the exam. For her sake. I can imagine that she's lying there in bed and thinking about me, praying for me and wishing me luck.
All these images cross my mind... Mum lying there with an expression of pain and discomfort... Mum breathing laboriously... Images of possible futures and potential events that may take place, and that are taking place in the vivid world of my imagination... Rushing home on the plane... Crying at the hospital... Holding onto mum's limp body... Inconsolable pain, pain, pain that will not go away...
I shudder at these thoughts, I feel deep deep fear as these images tear through my mind...
Heading to the airport. Flight in two hours. Another flight. It seems crazy that I'm heading back to Vancouver, where I just was last week. But I needed the time and place to fully concentrate, to be at home and rest in my own bed, to he surrounded by my own things and to recharge. I needed that little reminder that whatever happens, I have a home, I have these possessions that ground me to my life and tell me who I am (yes, it's very materialistic to be attached to my home and my things...). I need that more than anything at the moment. I need that at a time when who-knows-when need to part with the dearest person in my life...
Was it a waste of money to be flying back and forth across Canada just in order to study? Circumstances compel me to. Or perhaps I'm just too spoiled and cannot concentrate unless I'm in a quiet environment insulated from distractions. But this exam is important. Not just because it cost $400 just to register to take it. But because I have postponed it once before already.
And I know mum would want me to succeed, would want me to sit the exam. For her sake. I can imagine that she's lying there in bed and thinking about me, praying for me and wishing me luck.
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