Saddest Christmas

I’ve been here in Malaysia for 17 days already. And today, I cried again. That silent flowing of tears that a few minutes later became a shoulder-shaking, hiccup-inducing whine. For several days, maybe out of excitement to learn my new job, I’ve kept the waterworks at bay. But on my afternoon nap I’ve dreamt of home, of family, and woke up with terrible sadness that the dam I thought was strong enough, broke.
I don’t know when can I  finally get used to being away from the people I love. Or will I ever?
I hardly notice that it’s just a few days before Christmas. Same time last year, I was dead on my feet, organizing parties left and right, making last minute Christmas shopping, worrying about the holiday expenses, dreading (and secretly hating) the visitors we expect to swing by come Christmas day. I distinctly remember my wishing to be away next Christmas. Thinking that it is next to impossible. Ma & Pa won’t allow me to even visit my friends’ homes. We have to stay together at home on Christmas Day. I’ll be forever the one who is always busy on holidays, that I don’t have time to enjoy the celebrations. So, my wish is just one of the many wishes I’ve thrown in the great cosmic void. Never have I been so aware of the phrase “be careful what you wish for”, until now.
I guess, I’m not exactly at peace of being the one in charged of the family – the breadwinner. My whole view about getting out of the country to work is something I still consider a “sacrifice”. True. No one asked me for this. No one pushed me out of my comfort zone. This is my own doing. I chose to leave a fairly stable, albeit average-paying job, to seek greener pastures overseas. I just can’t silence that voice in my head that says – you shouldn’t be the one doing this. I just can’t. And factor in that it’s too close to the holidays — my misgivings are multiplied 10 times, at least.
Maybe the sadness is just too much that I fail to view this as something that will open doors for me. That this is my career’s long-awaited take-off. Or maybe not. But working overseas and all the sadness, opportunities, sacrifices, and perks that it may entail is a truth that stares at me when I look up at ceilings, when I lay down my bed without Ma on my side, when I look around the unfamiliar surroundings, and talk with condescending new acquaintances. I must stare back. I would. Just not on Christmas. I have the license for some Holiday Blues.

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Gem Bernas, M.D.

“Single” is not synonymous to “desperate”. It doesn’t mean ‘I-will-go-out-with-anyone-because-I’m-running-out-of-choices’ either. I’ve never been so aware of my singlehood, (and my advancing age at that) than the past two years. When the people around you keeps rubbing it to your nose every chance they get, it’s a feat to get ‘I’m 33 and still single’ out of your consciousness. I don’t doubt that my friends mean well when they try to set me up with a common friend, a neighbor, a cousin’s roommate’s plumber, or worse — former suitors who didn’t pass their standards so they hurl them over to me. Geez. I’m exaggerating. No one paired me up with a roommate’s plumber. Yet. Teeheehee. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder how do they (my well-meaning friends) see me? Do I give off that scent of desperation that they feel obliged to pair me up fast with whomever so that they can be spared of my whining? Of course that’s not true. I don’t whine. Not about my lovelife or the lack thereof. And my friends, they are good people. I believe that they just like to see me happy. I appreciate the thought. It just gets too much sometimes — the ‘single ka pa rin?’ and the ‘Malay mo, andyan lang si Mr. Right sa tabi-tabi’ comments is getting old…and If I’m completely honest — irritating.
I started to write this draft last April, and until now I am still writing it. Why? Not because this train of thought lost its steam — I can go on for hours ranting about my state of “single-blessedness”. I just don’t know how to write my thoughts without sounding bitter (to the readers, at least). Because I am not. The world never lost it’s wonder to me just because I haven’t found the right guy to share it with. I still and firmly believe that true love does exists. That two people can have a healthy, loving, nurturing, and happy relationship. I see it everywhere. It’s just that — it’s not for me. It’s a fact which I can bravely say I’ve accepted. Not without difficulty, mind you, but yes, I can say that I have come to terms with the probability of a future of solitude. So, why I am still writing about it, when, like what I just said I’ve accepted it? Because it’s time that other people do, too.
I am single. I’m 33. I’m okay. Those facts don’t make me a lesser person. Those facts do not define me as a citizen, as a daughter, as a friend.
Let me repeat that. I am single. I’m 33. I’m okay. And darn, I’m awesome!
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Writings On The Wall

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So, blogging proved to be not as easy as vandalizing public comfort rooms. Although, sometimes they’re done with somewhat similar purpose, blogging won’t earn you detention in the principal’s office or unwanted textmates/stalkers. And so, I’m taking the more civilized medium — I’ll blog to let out the screams in my head and the murmurs of my proverbial heart. To be read; not necessarily to be understood. To get noticed; not necessarily to be popular. And yeah, probably to get some textmates/stalkers. LOL!

P.S.
If you’re a grammar nazi, please stay away from my page or you’ll have a headache the size of Uranus 😛