It’s been 185 days since K left. In an earlier post, I said that after awhile, the pain of the absence assimilates inside- and that couldn’t be further from the truth. Yesterday, I missed K so fiercely; I was surprised at the extent of which I missed him. Normally, when I’m upset or sad, I think about all the things I have to be thankful for, and to be happy about. Counting my blessings didn’t help, and my emotions went from bad to worse as the day wore on. The highpoint of my day was meeting my mentoree for the first time. The low point was being pulled over by a police officer, and getting a non-moving violation for having an out-of-state license when I’ve been living in current state well past the 90 days allowed.
After the day was said and done, I called K, who though he is heading out and will be inaccessible for several weeks, fortunately my call was able to go through. Even 9000 miles away, he’s able to make things better.
I miss him.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Bitterness
In the previous post, I mentioned that I’m not going to be stagnant in life while I wait for K to return. Almost immediately following his departure, things started changing. I found a new job a month after he left and then I moved to a different apartment, in a different part of the city. There have also been other changes, like hiring a personal trainer a few days a week, preparing for my licensure exam, and a bit of traveling.
Of course, staying busy is a distraction, but I miss K. Always. After a while, I think the feeling of missing something assimilates inside, and it becomes part of the norm. And there’s always this bit of anger-resentment mixture that I feel. My cousin was away from her fiancé this past summer for six weeks, and she acted like it was the end of the world. Six weeks. I try to be sympathetic, but really my feelings are “suck it the f*ck up, it’s less than two months. Try two years.” Yeah, a tad bitter, I know.
Of course, staying busy is a distraction, but I miss K. Always. After a while, I think the feeling of missing something assimilates inside, and it becomes part of the norm. And there’s always this bit of anger-resentment mixture that I feel. My cousin was away from her fiancé this past summer for six weeks, and she acted like it was the end of the world. Six weeks. I try to be sympathetic, but really my feelings are “suck it the f*ck up, it’s less than two months. Try two years.” Yeah, a tad bitter, I know.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Now and Later
K's gone. He's been gone for 91 days. Ahh, to measure our seperation in days doesn't really seem to do the distance and time justice.
But before he left, we made a conscious effort to do as much as possible with each other. We jammed in trips, activities, even a trip to the ER all in the name of the camel strategy. Make as many memories as possible together, in hopes it'll help with the time we're apart.
Oh, and we got engaged. And had a wonderful party in my hometown.
So, 91 days apart, and hundreds more to go, I've come to the decision that I will not/ can not put my life on hold while I wait for K. I miss him immensely, but there's nothing we can do to be together for the next 21 months. So, better make the best out of a rotten situation.
But before he left, we made a conscious effort to do as much as possible with each other. We jammed in trips, activities, even a trip to the ER all in the name of the camel strategy. Make as many memories as possible together, in hopes it'll help with the time we're apart.
Oh, and we got engaged. And had a wonderful party in my hometown.
So, 91 days apart, and hundreds more to go, I've come to the decision that I will not/ can not put my life on hold while I wait for K. I miss him immensely, but there's nothing we can do to be together for the next 21 months. So, better make the best out of a rotten situation.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
32 Days
It’s thirty-two days left. . and emotions are flying high. Last night, there was a huge eruption, and I still feel so horrible about it. Last night played out with more drama than even an episode of Real Housewives: New Jersey. I told my friend, Lindsay, that I had definitely had my “flip the table” moment.
I forgave him for what happened prior to the fight, and he forgave me.
But it still doesn’t feel right.
And I wonder if things are just being so fractured that they can’t be put back together?
This is the first relationship where I feel like I’ve invested so much, and a lot is on the line. If our relationship isn’t “feeling right” how do I just move 4,000 miles away from everyone I know and love to be with him?
We have long-shot odds:
Different cultures
Different religions
Different nationalities
Different professions
Different geographical locations
He’s going to be a field biologist in a remote country, where communication is limited. I’m a social worker in a city, where communication is always available.
I keep thinking that this separation is going to be so hard on . . . . well, me. I mean, obviously, I like him more than he likes me, and I like to get attention from him, so I’ll miss him most. Plus, I’ll be living in the same apartment we shared, going to the same places we frequented, so reminders of his (lack of) presence will be everywhere.
With all of our differences, the immense geographical distance, and the recent fighting, how is it going to work out?
I forgave him for what happened prior to the fight, and he forgave me.
But it still doesn’t feel right.
And I wonder if things are just being so fractured that they can’t be put back together?
This is the first relationship where I feel like I’ve invested so much, and a lot is on the line. If our relationship isn’t “feeling right” how do I just move 4,000 miles away from everyone I know and love to be with him?
We have long-shot odds:
Different cultures
Different religions
Different nationalities
Different professions
Different geographical locations
He’s going to be a field biologist in a remote country, where communication is limited. I’m a social worker in a city, where communication is always available.
I keep thinking that this separation is going to be so hard on . . . . well, me. I mean, obviously, I like him more than he likes me, and I like to get attention from him, so I’ll miss him most. Plus, I’ll be living in the same apartment we shared, going to the same places we frequented, so reminders of his (lack of) presence will be everywhere.
With all of our differences, the immense geographical distance, and the recent fighting, how is it going to work out?
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Mirror Reflection
I was walking to my car on my lunch break, and passed by a mirrored window. I did a double take, as I didn’t recognize the person looking back at me.
Surprisingly, my hair looked good, courtesy of a blowout yesterday at the salon. But where did the dark circles under my eyes come from? And the red blotches on my face?
I haven’t been sleeping through the night, and what little sleep I do get is not restful. I have these weird dreams almost every night. Weird-like-on-vicodin-weird. I thought I wasn’t going to bed early enough, but I’ve made it a point to go to bed by 11 nearly every night this week. I unplug my laptop, no drinks after 7, and only take relaxing books to bed, but no use.
I think the culprit may be K.
The study is directly off the bedroom and K’s under deadlines right now, so he stays up late working. He pulls the pocket door closed and uses headphones, but I still struggle to fall asleep and when he comes to bed I always wake up.
We’ve tried a couple of things to help my sleeping, but none of them seem to be working. I’m such a light sleeper, just about anything wakes me up. The lack of sleep gets progressively worse as the week goes by, and by today, Thursday, I’m a walking zombie. And then I think about how our time together is so limited. . . .and I guess I’ll go on being a walking zombie, with great hair.
But it also makes me wonder (silently, to myself) when did I get so old? In undergrad, I could function on 3 hours of sleep for days at a time, and unlike my roommate Barb, I was not in the middle of a manic episode. I remember helping my mom open her bakery at 4am, working at the bakery, then going to my part-time job, then going to class, then going to hang out or study then going drinking, then sleeping a few hours and doing it all over again. Hmmm. . . maybe I was in the middle of a manic episode.
Surprisingly, my hair looked good, courtesy of a blowout yesterday at the salon. But where did the dark circles under my eyes come from? And the red blotches on my face?
I haven’t been sleeping through the night, and what little sleep I do get is not restful. I have these weird dreams almost every night. Weird-like-on-vicodin-weird. I thought I wasn’t going to bed early enough, but I’ve made it a point to go to bed by 11 nearly every night this week. I unplug my laptop, no drinks after 7, and only take relaxing books to bed, but no use.
I think the culprit may be K.
The study is directly off the bedroom and K’s under deadlines right now, so he stays up late working. He pulls the pocket door closed and uses headphones, but I still struggle to fall asleep and when he comes to bed I always wake up.
We’ve tried a couple of things to help my sleeping, but none of them seem to be working. I’m such a light sleeper, just about anything wakes me up. The lack of sleep gets progressively worse as the week goes by, and by today, Thursday, I’m a walking zombie. And then I think about how our time together is so limited. . . .and I guess I’ll go on being a walking zombie, with great hair.
But it also makes me wonder (silently, to myself) when did I get so old? In undergrad, I could function on 3 hours of sleep for days at a time, and unlike my roommate Barb, I was not in the middle of a manic episode. I remember helping my mom open her bakery at 4am, working at the bakery, then going to my part-time job, then going to class, then going to hang out or study then going drinking, then sleeping a few hours and doing it all over again. Hmmm. . . maybe I was in the middle of a manic episode.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Life Happens.
I’ve heard that trite saying “life is what happens when you’re busy making plans,” and it always slightly annoyed me. The thing is, it’s true. I can make a detailed, step-by-step plan and work toward its implementation and boom the tidal waves of life wash the plans away. Looking back, I never thought my life would be here. Here: living on my own away from my tight-knit family and close friends, finding the love of my life that didn’t match the image in my head, contemplating moving literally half-way across the world to hold on to that happiness. And while I might join K eventually in PNG, he is leaving in 47 days. Alone. Without me.
I am always in a mad rush to make the most out of our days together. I protect our time together fiercely and I won’t allow myself to feel guilty for putting other things on the back burner. He is finishing up his coursework and I have a job, so of course, we can’t be together nonstop, but we make time in the evenings and on weekends. I have a mental list of things I want us to do together and he is always taking photos of us. We load the photos and often review and laugh at them. I’ve put together a small album that he can take back with him and it’s small enough to pack in his field bag for when he is gone for months at a time in the wild, remote jungle.
All that being said, last week I had a meltdown.
Now, in my family, I’m the litmus test of meltdowns. I define the term. I’m not proud of this, just stating the fact.
Scenario: A close friend of mine’s mother, Mrs. F,. had been battling lung cancer. She was diagnosed at Christmas 2008 and went into remission last spring. Unfortunately, the cancer returned the first of the year and ravaged her body and mind within months. By the beginning of April, the cancer had spread to her brain and pituitary gland. Mrs. F. went into hospice and in just two weeks, ironically on my mother’s birthday, passed away. I took two days off work to travel to the visitation and funeral. When I told my mom about the trip, she insisted I come home, and I tried to explain to her I just had enough time to go to the funeral and not travel four extra hours. . . and I felt immensely guilty.
The night before I was to leave to travel for the funeral, K and I went to a concert he had bought tickets to a while ago, and even though I didn’t want to go, we went. It was a bad time had by all, so bad I wished I had gone home and done laundry at my local Hispanic-Pakistani Laundromat.
In the morning, when I had to leave, I was late, K and I were both still annoyed from the events last night, I didn’t have clean clothes, I hadn’t showered, my hair would put Don King’s to shame, I was sad, I felt guilty, I was overwhelmed, I didn’t want to go.
I had a meltdown. Tears, hysteria, whining, yelling, etc. It was one of those moments that make reality television shows so addicting. The train wreck moments.
K and I got through it and soon I was calm enough to put the pieces back together and head to the visitation.
The funeral had a profound impact on me. Mr. and Mrs. F. had been married for over 36 years. The grief was etched so profoundly on Mr. F.’s face, and the sadness so deep in his eyes, I couldn’t approach him. I didn’t know how to say I was sorry for his loss, when sorry isn’t even the same realm of his grief. And Mrs. F. was deeply loved; nearly 1,000 people attended her funeral. When we left the funeral to drive to the cemetery, hundreds of people stood out in the rain, in a line with their hands held above us as we passed, praying. There are some images that stay in one’s mind forever, and that is one that will stay in mine.
I was gone for three days and on the third day I left early in the morning. When I surprised K by arriving home earlier than planned, seeing how his smile to me spread across his whole face made me so happy.
I may want to plan an elaborate wedding, or design the perfect house. I always wanted to be married by 28 and have my first baby at 30.
What happens while making all these plans is life; the births, the deaths, the love, the forgiveness, the unexpected, the unplanned. The way life happens is much better than any way I could have planned it.
I am always in a mad rush to make the most out of our days together. I protect our time together fiercely and I won’t allow myself to feel guilty for putting other things on the back burner. He is finishing up his coursework and I have a job, so of course, we can’t be together nonstop, but we make time in the evenings and on weekends. I have a mental list of things I want us to do together and he is always taking photos of us. We load the photos and often review and laugh at them. I’ve put together a small album that he can take back with him and it’s small enough to pack in his field bag for when he is gone for months at a time in the wild, remote jungle.
All that being said, last week I had a meltdown.
Now, in my family, I’m the litmus test of meltdowns. I define the term. I’m not proud of this, just stating the fact.
Scenario: A close friend of mine’s mother, Mrs. F,. had been battling lung cancer. She was diagnosed at Christmas 2008 and went into remission last spring. Unfortunately, the cancer returned the first of the year and ravaged her body and mind within months. By the beginning of April, the cancer had spread to her brain and pituitary gland. Mrs. F. went into hospice and in just two weeks, ironically on my mother’s birthday, passed away. I took two days off work to travel to the visitation and funeral. When I told my mom about the trip, she insisted I come home, and I tried to explain to her I just had enough time to go to the funeral and not travel four extra hours. . . and I felt immensely guilty.
The night before I was to leave to travel for the funeral, K and I went to a concert he had bought tickets to a while ago, and even though I didn’t want to go, we went. It was a bad time had by all, so bad I wished I had gone home and done laundry at my local Hispanic-Pakistani Laundromat.
In the morning, when I had to leave, I was late, K and I were both still annoyed from the events last night, I didn’t have clean clothes, I hadn’t showered, my hair would put Don King’s to shame, I was sad, I felt guilty, I was overwhelmed, I didn’t want to go.
I had a meltdown. Tears, hysteria, whining, yelling, etc. It was one of those moments that make reality television shows so addicting. The train wreck moments.
K and I got through it and soon I was calm enough to put the pieces back together and head to the visitation.
The funeral had a profound impact on me. Mr. and Mrs. F. had been married for over 36 years. The grief was etched so profoundly on Mr. F.’s face, and the sadness so deep in his eyes, I couldn’t approach him. I didn’t know how to say I was sorry for his loss, when sorry isn’t even the same realm of his grief. And Mrs. F. was deeply loved; nearly 1,000 people attended her funeral. When we left the funeral to drive to the cemetery, hundreds of people stood out in the rain, in a line with their hands held above us as we passed, praying. There are some images that stay in one’s mind forever, and that is one that will stay in mine.
I was gone for three days and on the third day I left early in the morning. When I surprised K by arriving home earlier than planned, seeing how his smile to me spread across his whole face made me so happy.
I may want to plan an elaborate wedding, or design the perfect house. I always wanted to be married by 28 and have my first baby at 30.
What happens while making all these plans is life; the births, the deaths, the love, the forgiveness, the unexpected, the unplanned. The way life happens is much better than any way I could have planned it.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Two Years.
I remember sitting in class and thinking how handsome this man looked. And sexy. But as soon as my thoughts strayed, I quickly admonished myself and pushed the directions of those thoughts away. And I resolved to let him go, and didn’t think (too much) about him.
While I had sent him a simple friend request on Facebook, he responded with a message: “Hi Jessica, how are you doing? Thanks for being friends. I hope you did well this past semester. Stay Warm! K.”
Innocent enough. We traded emails back and forth for the next couple of days, trying to come up with a time to meet for coffee so I could pump him for information on his home country. Of course, he asked about my boyfriend, and I told him about the relationship (leaving out the rocky bits). I sent him a last message two days before Christmas as I was preparing to travel back to my hometown for the holidays.
While in my hometown, I was consumed with taking care of my mom and trying to make the holidays special. Unfortunately, the tension between my long distance boyfriend and me was mounting. We had “taken a break” a few months before, and looking back, that’s really when the relationship should have ended completely. However, like a good social worker, I was bound and determined to see this relationship to the very, very end. Every interaction we had was stressful, filled with conflict and left me feeling awful.
After an uneventful New Year’s with my family, the next day I took the red-eye bus back. The scheduled departure was at 12am, but I had to get there earlier to purchase a ticket and ensure a seat. Friends dropped me, I purchased a ticket and waited. Using my phone, for the first time in days, I checked my Facebook. There was a message from K, wishing me a happy New Year and safe travels. Out of boredom, I emailed him back. We began a long exchange of emails as I traveled across the Midwest. Later, he would reveal to me that he was to excited to sleep even though it was very late. We discussed books we had read, places we had been, things we liked to do- all very benign, but his messages helped make the traveling and leaving my still-sick mom.
Our messages continued through the night and on until the next day. I arrived at my apartment in the morning, and promptly went to bed. When I awoke, there was another message waiting for me from K. His messages were beginning to take on a flirtatious nature, which I ignored. We had agreed to meet Wednesday for coffee to talk about his home country. I smiled to myself when he suggested we have dinner instead of coffee. We exchanged numbers, and within minutes he text me to say good night. Of course, this led to me calling him and we talked late into the night.
The next day was Monday, and by the time I’d arrived at my office, he had sent me a morning text. Our communication via text continued through out the day, and by the afternoon we had agreed to meet for coffee that evening.
The evening went very well. I immediately felt comfortable with him. He’s a great storyteller, and he listens and is attentive.
I knew before we went a step further I would have to officially end things with the long-distance relationship. I had tried to call him on Sunday to end things, but he was traveling and didn’t have cell reception. I got a hold of him Tuesday morning and we talked while I drove to work. We both agreed that we just weren’t a good match for each other and that the relationship should have ended months before, but neither one of us wanted to let it go easily. We also decided to remain friends, to talk occasionally and to assist the other if it was ever needed. In the end, it was a very amicable split. As a good friend of mine has instructed me to always at least try to find one “takeaway” from every situation, the “takeaway” here was: Long-distance relationships are hard and I don’t want another one.
Once that relationship was over, I felt free to pursue whatever it was between K and me.
Amazing.
We began spending time together and we fit so seamlessly into one another’s lives. While I’m high maintenance, he’s laid back. While I’m prone to break-downs, he’s calm, steady. He has these beautiful eyes that are always drinking in his surroundings; noticing the details. He’s quick with a compliment and quicker with hugs and kisses. He’s compassionate for others in a way I’ve rarely seen.
Late one night, K and I were discussing future plans, and he said he wanted to meet my family before April. I questioned why specifically April.
He answered, “So they have time to know me before I take you back home with me in May.”
“Why are you taking me back with you in May?” I asked.
“I have to leave the US in May and return to Papua New Guinea. I’ll be gone for two years.”
While I had sent him a simple friend request on Facebook, he responded with a message: “Hi Jessica, how are you doing? Thanks for being friends. I hope you did well this past semester. Stay Warm! K.”
Innocent enough. We traded emails back and forth for the next couple of days, trying to come up with a time to meet for coffee so I could pump him for information on his home country. Of course, he asked about my boyfriend, and I told him about the relationship (leaving out the rocky bits). I sent him a last message two days before Christmas as I was preparing to travel back to my hometown for the holidays.
While in my hometown, I was consumed with taking care of my mom and trying to make the holidays special. Unfortunately, the tension between my long distance boyfriend and me was mounting. We had “taken a break” a few months before, and looking back, that’s really when the relationship should have ended completely. However, like a good social worker, I was bound and determined to see this relationship to the very, very end. Every interaction we had was stressful, filled with conflict and left me feeling awful.
After an uneventful New Year’s with my family, the next day I took the red-eye bus back. The scheduled departure was at 12am, but I had to get there earlier to purchase a ticket and ensure a seat. Friends dropped me, I purchased a ticket and waited. Using my phone, for the first time in days, I checked my Facebook. There was a message from K, wishing me a happy New Year and safe travels. Out of boredom, I emailed him back. We began a long exchange of emails as I traveled across the Midwest. Later, he would reveal to me that he was to excited to sleep even though it was very late. We discussed books we had read, places we had been, things we liked to do- all very benign, but his messages helped make the traveling and leaving my still-sick mom.
Our messages continued through the night and on until the next day. I arrived at my apartment in the morning, and promptly went to bed. When I awoke, there was another message waiting for me from K. His messages were beginning to take on a flirtatious nature, which I ignored. We had agreed to meet Wednesday for coffee to talk about his home country. I smiled to myself when he suggested we have dinner instead of coffee. We exchanged numbers, and within minutes he text me to say good night. Of course, this led to me calling him and we talked late into the night.
The next day was Monday, and by the time I’d arrived at my office, he had sent me a morning text. Our communication via text continued through out the day, and by the afternoon we had agreed to meet for coffee that evening.
The evening went very well. I immediately felt comfortable with him. He’s a great storyteller, and he listens and is attentive.
I knew before we went a step further I would have to officially end things with the long-distance relationship. I had tried to call him on Sunday to end things, but he was traveling and didn’t have cell reception. I got a hold of him Tuesday morning and we talked while I drove to work. We both agreed that we just weren’t a good match for each other and that the relationship should have ended months before, but neither one of us wanted to let it go easily. We also decided to remain friends, to talk occasionally and to assist the other if it was ever needed. In the end, it was a very amicable split. As a good friend of mine has instructed me to always at least try to find one “takeaway” from every situation, the “takeaway” here was: Long-distance relationships are hard and I don’t want another one.
Once that relationship was over, I felt free to pursue whatever it was between K and me.
Amazing.
We began spending time together and we fit so seamlessly into one another’s lives. While I’m high maintenance, he’s laid back. While I’m prone to break-downs, he’s calm, steady. He has these beautiful eyes that are always drinking in his surroundings; noticing the details. He’s quick with a compliment and quicker with hugs and kisses. He’s compassionate for others in a way I’ve rarely seen.
Late one night, K and I were discussing future plans, and he said he wanted to meet my family before April. I questioned why specifically April.
He answered, “So they have time to know me before I take you back home with me in May.”
“Why are you taking me back with you in May?” I asked.
“I have to leave the US in May and return to Papua New Guinea. I’ll be gone for two years.”
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