Fridays!

Sometimes, I feel so homesick that my whole body curls up from the aching.

The feeling is so strong, but I can't even answer the questions: What is home? Where is home? Who is home?

There has been so much moving, relocating, changing in the last 3 years.

I've shuffled around the country...
My entire family has been bouncing around from country-to-country...
In fact, none of them are in this country, as we speak.

This homeless feeling I have makes my heart extra vulnerable to rejection and feeling displaced.

But, today is Friday, and as always, it's the most exciting day of the week.
I anticipate this day all week long. It is the day that either Jay comes, or I go.
This week, I'm going-- and that's actually more exciting to me than waiting for him to arrive. 

Going to Jay means I get to decide the timeline. I get to plan like I'm going on a vacation! The other major perk is that I get to leave in the end, meaning I'm not feeling the emptiness on Sunday after I wave him goodbye. I hate that feeling of being left. I prefer doing the leaving instead, not because I want to inflict the pain on someone else. It's not that. Leaving actually keeps me distracted since I'm forced to move forward and plan ahead instead of sit in my own fear.

Today is a rainy, thunderstorm-filled day. I feel nostalgic, reminiscent, homesick, and excited too. Again, so many mixed feelings!

In a few hours, I'll be heading down to Jay. I'll head home after work to pack for myself and Mr. Z and then we'll be off!  This weekend, I intend to challenge myself to tell Jay the things I like to do and don't like to do.  No more TV marathons or eating fried, unhealthy foods that I simply do not prefer. Well, there might still be some. I'm not sure how I'll go about telling him yet. Or if I'll be able to successfully convey that without backing down later.

Silence = rejection?

Whenever I don't hear from someone, I envision they are actively trying to cut me out of their lives.
OR
That might seem too narcissistic, so sometimes I imagine that they don't think of me at all. You know the saying: "out of sight, out of mind."

Both scenarios SUCK because I am either a nuisance or too marginal to be considered. In short, silence frightens me because the list of options are exactly that:

1. You are actively and purposefully ignoring of me.
2. You easily forgot about me and can't be bothered to remember that I exist.

Both scenarios have happened with the same person: my first love! So, it's really not an unrealistic fear because they've both been my reality.

Today, I didn't hear much from Jay and I assumed the same. I thought to myself, "OK. He's seen you in every possible setting and is officially sick of you."

I envisioned him picking up his phone, looking at a text I sent, and then choosing to ignore it and do something else instead. That is scenario 1.

Scenario 2 is him being busy-- so busy that he hasn't looked at his phone all day and doesn't even think to do it because in his mind, it doesn't matter if I'm trying to contact him. He hasn't thought of me, so he's not  concerned about being in touch at all.

I was sad thinking about both scenarios but I plowed forward to do my work, cook dinner, and hang out with Mr. Z.

Around midnight, Jay texted to say he's been working all night. He then called to ask how my day's been, and then told me all about his busy busy day. He told me what he's planning for the rest of the week, he told me little details of today, like what he's eaten and what he fantasizes eating. He also told me he broke a spoke on his bicycle wheel (What's a spoke?) and then shared a funny story about a party that happened a few years ago with his professors and one of his colleagues.

As he shared these random tidbits, my heart calmed. My spirit slowly landed back on the ground. My sadness and anxiety slowly dissipated, and instead, laughter and warmth filled my soul. I thought to myself, "oh, I'm not invisible and I do matter to him."

Little by little, Jay has been fixing my dysfunctional, unhealthy, anxiety-ridden heart and giving me corrective experiences so that I am a little less broken than before.

With his phone call tonight, he showed me that he can be busy and still want me. There can be silence but it doesn't necessarily mean he is ignoring me or forgetting me. Apparently, silence isn't always a sign of rejection or abandonment. It doesn't always foreshadow impending loss and pain. Silence isn't always permanent.

Separation anxiety

Dogs have separation anxiety, children have separation anxiety, but adults?

I feel so hollow each time Jay leaves me my place.
That emptiness affects me so much so that I'm useless and non-functioning.
I generally go to sleep whenever he leaves, waking up anxiously and intermittently to check to see if he's texted me to let me know he has gotten home safely.

On days that Jay leaves, I'm always unsure of what to do with myself: I'm aimless, purposeless, and it's pathetic because I'm a professional with TONS to do.  But when Jay enters the picture (and leaves), it's like I never existed before him.

He left around 6:30pm last night and I climbed onto the couch to watch TV.
I fell asleep and woke up freezing, so I fumbled my way into the bedroom and went to bed... for the entire night.
For 12 hours!!!

That was how avoidant I was about his absence.

Taking risks

Remember when I tried to start the "I am love-able challenge" but failed? I made a grand total of 2 entries and then stopped.  All my posts thereafter were insecurity- and anxiety- filled. BUT instead of seeing that as a failure, I hereby revise the challenge! Who said my challenge had to be daily? I will simply celebrate spontaneously and as good things emerge!

Take for instance, last night.

After so many days and nights of insecurities, I decided to take initiative and be proactive. 

I reached out to Jay and asked how he was doing. I asked if he wanted to skype. Later that night, I double-checked again to see if he was still up for our videochat.

What was especially unique about yesterday was learning that Jay threw his back out when working with animals in the morning. My immediate reaction was to step-back and sacrifice my needs. In the past, I would have thought "oh, forget it. I won't ask if he still wants to talk. He probably needs rest and recuperation. I don't want to get in the way."  Meanwhile, as the day would progress, I would feel sadder and sadder, having given up my needs and wishing he would reach out to me. I'd feel sad that he isn't saying, "let's still talk! I miss you!" I'd definitely interpret that as some sort of "he doesn't like me as much as I like him."

My pattern, I think is this: I'd offer him space, and when he takes it, I'll see it as rejecting me. I'll feel unwanted and my needs (i.e., missing him, wanting to see him or at least talk to him) will be suppressed. I'll feel like I'm sacrificing myself and over time, I'd be feel anxiety-ridden and resentful.

As I've come to be more aware of my own interpersonal style, I decided to break the pattern! So yesterday, I took the risk of putting-out my needs and asking if they can be met. He said "of course!" and we had a great skype-chat where much of my insecurity was abated. How did my anxiety decrease?

• His face makes me happy
• He made references to this weekend and spending time together
• He expressed interest in joining my friends and I later this week for a celebration
• He asked me how I was doing
• He made the appropriate disappointing sounds when I told him crummy things about my day
• He joked about my body and his appreciation for "feeling it" because I've been "feeling" sore from working out lately.
• At the end of our chat, he ended it with: I'll talk to you tomorrow?

It's pretty lame that each of these bullet-points are pieces of evidence for me, so I can be sure that he continues to like me and not want to leave me. It's pathetic, I know. But that's where I am, now, and I can tolerate that.  I certainly don't love this part of me, but I'll accept it for now. 

Ah, self-compassion. Another positive!

Punishing him, punishing myself

I had a great 12-hour date with Jay when he drove up 2.5 hours on Friday night. I had a work event that night and he sat-in and watched. It was quite nerve-wracking since it is the first time he's ever seen me in my professional element. It was vulnerable and I felt that much closer to him.

We woke up at 5am the next morning so he can hit the road to make it to his professional event. "I'll text you when I get there," he said, as he opened his car door and gave me a knowing smile. He knew I would worry about his long drive, and it was comforting to know he understood that it mattered to me. "OK," I said casually as I thought about how lucky I was to have such an understanding boyfriend who care about me and my feelings.

Except, that he didn't.

And this was the 2nd time that he didn't follow-through with his words. So, a couple of hours later, I wrote a text that simply stated, "I'm going to assume you got there safely..." and I waited for his reply.

I waited and waited and waited.

Exactly one hour later, he wrote back an apology and told me how busy it was when he arrived! He also showed me a picture of the throngs of people he had to cater to.

After reading his response, an unexpected, guttural, and animalistic sound escaped me. It came from deep within my stomach and the anxiety coursed out of me.  It was a sob and I cried intensely for less than a minute and shed only a few tears. I hadn't even known I was carrying that much anxiety.

I did not reply to Jay after that. For the rest of that day, I made a conscious effort to be unresponsive. I was too hurt and I was reliving the past.

Similar feelings of being tricked, betrayed, and beguiled came over me. When I was with B., I often felt like he had eyes only for me. It was later in my relationship that I learned the truth. That, the second I turned my back, I was out-of-sight and out-of-mind for him. Whatever promises, commitment, or loyalty he had toward me were now given to whoever woman he was setting his eyes on. I wondered; is this process identical for Jay? He had said to me: "I'll text you when I get there" and then forgot about me as soon as he left. When we're together, he treats me like he only has eyes for me! But when he's gone, obviously, I'm also out of the picture.

My mind reeled. My heart reeled. I felt sick to my stomach.

Late in the afternoon, Jay called to see how my day was. We generally don't call each other until nighttime, so I imagine it's because he thought my silence was unusual.

He was right, actually. I was in pain. But I wonder if I was also wanting to push him away with the pain. My silence was as much as my retreat as it was a punishment for him. Intentional or not, my action was my subtle way of saying: this hurts so much again and perhaps a bit of a fuck you.

Reading between the lines

As in every romantic relationship, I find myself reading between the lines all the time. Does he mean x when he says y? Does he think y when he actually wants z? Is he pretending to suggest z when when he's actually trying to convey x?

With thoughts like these in my head, I can never stop.  I cannot stop to smell the flowers and enjoy what I have. I am too busy searching for thorns in the roses and anticipating being poked and inevitably bleeding to death.

Sound dramatic? It's exactly how my heart feels and I have the perfect example from this weekend:

Today is actually Jay's birthday and since we are a bit of a distance away, we celebrated over the weekend. Before coming, he said he'd be leaving early on Sunday morning to get back home to do fun outdoor activities with his brother. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief that he was leaving early. His plan worked out perfectly for me because I had a ton of work to do and I desperately needed Sunday to play catch-up. But the fact that Jay said he was leaving early threw me for a loop because he was the one wanting distance, not me. And so, my feelings of insecurity, doubt, rejection flooded over. I took his request to mean that he no longer liked me and he would prefer to spend time doing other things with other people who are not me.

**As I write this down, I recognize the absurdity of my logic, but at the moment, my feeling of being subtly rejected was soo soo strong.

I told my brother how much this bothered me and I expressed sadness and confusion. Why isn't he maximizing his birthday weekend with me? Why doesn't he want to spend as much together as possible? What does it mean that he's not wanting to stay through to Sunday? Why?

My brother's response?

''He's coming all the way up to spend a couple of days with you. On the last day of the weekend, you have a ton to do. And he's leaving, so it all works out. This works out perfectly! The universe has spoken."

Oh, was all I could say. Fine, I muttered, before walking away with my tail tucked between my legs. My brother made a great point. Obviously Jay likes me. He was willing to drive 2.5 hours to see me this weekend, and also every weekend that he's come up since October!

Why couldn't I see that earlier? Why did I only see the glass half-empty, the bottle ready to be discarded? Ahem, I am this metaphorical bottle. Why did I have to analyze everything so that the outcome is always that he is done with me?

The logical part of me believes that we all create narratives in our head that function like blueprints. My blueprint is always the same. It's being left, being abandoned, being left in the dust before I even realize its over.

Must I replay this blueprint time and time again?

In some ways, I know the answer is yes and it is the right answer. I've been left before. I've been abandoned before. I've been left in the dust, billowing and waiting for years before realizing he has long gone. I will never be that gullible again. I never want to be such a fool again. I will never be so unprepared about being walked out on and experiencing the shock that is pain. My blueprint serves a function and an acquired survival skill that I learned the very very hard way. While it may not always be healthy, I've had to learn to put up my guard to read between the lines.

Family of Origin Issues

Stability. I've always lived without it. I always thought that when I meet the love of my life, then I'll have it.   I imagined that once I'm in a relationship, he (whoever he is) will give me that much-needed stability I've been craving in my life.

They say dogs need rules, boundaries, and limitations.  When pet-owners are inconsistent in their disciplining or in their training or even in their energies, dogs can sense the instability, and they will act-out.  I've actually heard that humans are the only species that follow unstable pack leaders.  Unlike us, animals can sense strength (or lackthereof) in one another; and they will choose to follow only that one who provides stability and security.

In my family-of-origin life, I have never had stability.  In fact, I just had a very intimate talk with my mom about relationships, love, sex, and womanhood (another entry will definitely need to be written about that), and it turns out that she's never experienced stability either.  If I can trace my insecurities and fears to the original point, I know that my fears come from my mom leaving me. I lived in fear mostly my whole life-- terrified that my mom would leave me and I would be stuck with my dad.  My relationship with my dad has improved significantly over the past few years.  On the surface, we are a happy, close-knit family, and in many ways, we are now.  Kind of.  But my childhood years were more overtly unhappy, and consistently unpredictable and fear-provoking.  I have attributed that mostly to my mom's constant threats of divorce and taking my brother with her. I lived in perpetual fear that she would have abandoned me and left me with my dad.

In my talk with my mom tonight, she talked about her experience as a victim rather than the person who was always with the power of leaving. She talked about her experience of being a woman in an emotionally-unfulfilling marriage. She talked about losing her sense of self in her marriage and the sacrifices she has made since the beginning. She sacrificed herself in a marriage that even at the beginning, she knew wouldn't be good. But she believed that she loved him "more", so she decided to suffer and to go through with it.

Suffer.  What a stupid, stupid word.  Why did we ever decide to glorify that word as though it were badge of honor?  In some cultures, and I'll talk specifically about the culture of traditional women as well as some East Asian cultures and some religious cultures, suffering is considered to be a virtue, and one that will give you extra credit in your next life.  The mentality is that suffering will lead to better outcomes later, either for yourself or for someone else important to you.

The more I learn about suffering, the more I see its deleterious effects.  My mom married someone that was incompatible with her.  She felt suffocated from the irreconciliable differences but decided to "suffer"-- all the while vowing to divorce my dad one day so that she could leave one day and live her life her way.  And while she thinks she's done something noble -- whether it's for my brother and I, or for the sanctity of marriage-- her suffering has made her a victim.  And by default, it has affected the whole family too.  I am completely messed up because of our family dynamic, and my brother surely is affected too.

Because of this suffering, because of this marriage, I have always felt stuck in the middle between everyone, always mediating everyone's fights, always trying to keep things as calm as possible in the fear that this family will be broken apart.  I lived in fear my entire life, scared that my mom would leave, and that my family will be ripped to pieces.  I felt even more scared for me, thinking my mom would leave me with my dad, and that I would never see her or my brother again.  I lived in fear of my dad for so many reasons.  The most basic ones because that he is just so different from all of us: his beliefs, his way of doing things, his values, etc. etc.

As I have grown older, I continue to be in relationships that are unstable and unpredictable.  I stay with men who don't love me (but I can't let go of because they're like my dad and I feel guilty wanting to leave him too).  In those same romantic relationships, I fear that I will be left because I have grown up being so scared about being abandoned by the one adult who was nurtured me.  I felt she was my life raft in a deadly waterfall and I gripped onto her for dear life.  It's different now that I'm an adult. As a parentified child who mediates my parents' fights (as well as their triangle disputes with my brother), I grow more and more protective of each of them.  I am now concerned for them, and it's not just based on me losing my family.  I feel like I need to take care of them, watch out for them, and be there for them. I fear for my dad that my mom will leave him one day.  I fear for my mom what she would do if she were to ever leave.  She does not have her own career or her income.  She also has lost her identity in her marriage and in our family. As I talked with my mom tonight, she told me about the emotional emptiness she's experienced even when she got married.  She talked about putting all her love, energy, attention, focus on the family.  She talked about how she put every bit of herself into me and my brother and that we are her everything.  Should my parents ever separate someday, even in their older age, what would that mean for my brother and me? How do we juggle taking care of both parents when they have done everything for us but are not able to co-exist together? How do you repay someone who dedicated her life entirely to you because she was so devoid of what she needed in her marriage?

My parents currently live apart right now for business reasons.  My dad is abroad because his work requires him to be.  When he retires one day, my mom and dad will likely reunite and live together again.  What will that be like, we all wonder? My mom dreads the day that happens which I hadn't known.  Apparently she doesn't want to even think of that day, and she does not know what the future holds for her and my dad.  What does that mean, I asked?  To which my mom responded with an answer I subconsciously knew.  It all depends on the kids-- meaning me and my brother.  Because my mom gave everything to this family, she will depend entirely on us.  My mom's identity is rooted in us. Her livelihood rests in us. Her future depends on us. I already knew that before she even said it.  I know that if she ever chooses to leave one day, she will rely on us 110% to give her a sense of stability, identity, and belongingness.

You see, when we were in high school, my brother and I would take-turns going out and staying home. We lived with just my mom and it felt selfish to leave her home alone when she would never do that to us. As an adult, because I have moved far away now, I don't actually have to face this all the time, but my brother does.  I know he feels guilty when he goes out.  For someone in his mid 20s, going out feels wrong because I'm sure he doesn't want to abandon my mom to leave her alone at home.  My brother and I both have a strong sense of responsibility for my mom.  We both know what it's like to feel unstable, and we both fear that she will feel unstable if we weren't home.  And because I'm a little closer to my dad, I worry for my dad too. I wonder if he feels alone and what would happen should my mom ever leave him. What will become of him and his identity? He works so hard for us, for the family.  What would losing her do to him?

As for my own issues in relationships I am slowly recognizing that my break-ups hit me hard because they always signify the end of my hope for stability.  My original family doesn't have much stability, so I anticipated my future family to give me that.  I projected all of my hopes and expectations onto my partner. I lost my identity in each relationship so that I could just blend in, adapt, and be accepted into whatever life my partner has. No wonder my relationships implode. If I were already married, I expect my life would be like my mom's.  I would have no identity. I would be emotionally lonely and alone. I would have to invest myself in something else to compensate for the absence of emotional connection, the lack of stability once again.

I firmly believe now and today that suffering is unnecessary, and even worse, detrimental to yourself and your future generations.  Is it my fault that I've tried so hard to keep my parents together over the years? Do I contribute to the dysfunction that affects my family collectively but also individually?  Throughout my life, there has been nothing more scary than the thought of my family breaking up.  As I reflect on this idea more rationally and in a less-detached manner, however, I can't help but wonder... what if they had divorced one another and gone on to find better partners for themselves? What if a divorce meant they would be happier? More fulfilled with their lives? What if separating meant that my mom would live a more meaningful life and she would have a stronger identity outside of her family? My mom invested everything in us because she was so disappointed in her marriage and in her connection with my dad.  What if she had found someone who she could connect with emotionally, physically, and spiritually? Would she be healthier now? Happier? And in turn, would my brother and I have flourished because we were free to leave the house? To explore? If we hadn't felt obligated to babysit or care-take my mom, would we be able to find stronger senses of identities for ourselves?

I suppose this is all speculation.  I'm just wondering now about all the things I've been scared to think about before.  I leave a quote for myself in this entry: "What we do not know always seems to be terrifying. But what we know isn't necessarily better."  I know my parents are together today. I know my mom is unfulfilled, lost, and passively waiting for the next step of her life. I know that my dad does not know how unhappy she is. I know that my brother has not found his identity yet. I know that I keep looking for relationships to give me stability and that I live in constant fear of abandonment and loss. Given all that I know at this point, I am beginning to wonder if what I don't know isn't so terrifying anymore.