Missing hubby

I’m back to blogging after a 2-year hiatus. I realized this is one way of coping when missing hubby.  He went to Norway after staying here for about 5 months. This is probably the longest period we’ve spent together since we got married.

Can’t really understand why I’m that affected now. I should be getting used already to this semi-long distance setup. Before we got married, it was like this for 5 years.  After we got married 4 years ago, it’s still like this. Maybe because his last stay in Manila was the longest period we were together (but I haven’t really kept track of this). Maybe because we both got frustrated that our expectations that his new work won’t entail going onboard or abroad didn’t happen. Maybe because we had new plans, like moving to another apartment and re-opening a business, and I was left alone to do everything.

I find myself a bit silly that I cried two days ago when he was still with me.  We were lying on bed – he was on the verge of snoring, I was on the verge of crying.  I missed him already, even though he was physically present with me. I tossed around, fought to keep any tear from flowing my eyes. And then, it flowed, I sniffed, and then more tears. I tried to cry very discreetly, so I won’t wake him up, and he won’t think I’m emotionally weak. But then, I sniffed again, and I couldn’t breathe normally. How discreet can I get, huh! And then, he embraced me.  And he knew I was crying very silently.  I immediately stood up, went outside the room to blow my nose and drink water.  I went back to bed. I knew he was awake and waiting for me.  When I climbed back to bed, I commented something like I hate myself.  And then he joked about me being a drama queen. I said no, then said, yes.   And we both laughed. And we were awake for another 30 minutes. I was trying to rationalize myself, chatting nonsense.  He was trying to make me sleep by stroking my back and gently touching my forehead.  His method usually works on me after half hour, but two nights ago, it worked faster when he said that we’ll pray that he’ll work land-based here can really happen. I think the idea of hoping together, before I really go to sleep, put me at peace. 

The following night, I told him I’m not that sad anymore.  The worship service in the church gave me another strength and peace.  He smiled. And then I joked that another reason why I’m not that sad anymore was because I secretly saved some money to follow him. I’d just show up in his apartment one day and catch his girlfriend. We laughed and had a very short pillow fight.  After a while, he got serious and said that I should also be still praying for him to resist such temptations.  He knew I prayed for this when we were not yet married but I relaxed a bit when we tied the knot. Now I know I must do this again consistently. And last night, I did. It was more than enough way of coping when missing hubby.  Prayer does not only give you feel-good hormones, it gives you not just peace and comfort, it builds up your faith that everything will be all right. Thank you Lord Jesus! 

The day I loved my crying

If you know how to cry, you can get rich. Me and my elder sister thought so after seeing a child actress on TV getting famous and rich for shedding fake bucket of tears easily. That night, while lying on our beds in a shared room, we practiced crying. Sister said, “think of unhappy thoughts.” After several attempts, she had tears, I had dry eyes. And that's when I knew, I wasn't born to be a star, I can't cry.

Maybe, at 7 years old, I really can't think of horrible situations to make me cry. Or maybe as a child, I never cried. I didn't cry when my parents failed to pick me up from school and I was left alone in the hallway when I was 5. I didn't cry when I got lost in a supermarket. Nor sob when an angry cat bit my ankles furiously. Even when schoolmates teased me for my dream to be a model, I didn’t cry. No tears even if I didn’t get my favorite toy. I got scolded for not listening and was called dumb, yet, I didn't cry.

Ironically, I cried during teenage years. I cried when mother tore off the clothes that I was wearing so I can't go to a big birthday party all high school students were anticipating. When my parents and grandmothers were all shouting and fighting and they could not be stopped, I screamed then wept. When my elder sister pulled my hair and almost made my head bang on the sink, I cried. In college, when a big pro-administration organization literally thrashed the materials my classmates toiled for an exhibit that was getting popular in our school, and then realized as the president, I need to fight these goody-two-shoes bullies, I sobbed. In a confrontation with classmates, who got defeated in the elections and were planning to oust me even though I just got elected, I cried. When my parents asked if I got the editorial position I wanted in our school paper and told them I didn't because the adviser favored someone else with less talent but more charm, I cried.

In these instances, I cried because I was angry, sad, frustrated. I don't want just this kind of tears. If crying can't make me rich just like the young actress, I'd rather not cry. I want tears that really make me feel better. Crying that doesn’t only release bitterness but also happiness. I want to cry when I'm happy, or cry when I'm happy though the situation looks unhappy. How's that? That time, I didn't know yet.

Until I met someone who really made me cry, P_. Because he courted and chased me impressively, when I agreed to be his girlfriend, I thought I'd never cry for someone who wanted to please me badly. Besides, I vowed not to cry for a guy. Before I met him, I had a boyfriend and I didn’t shed tears even during lover’s quarrels. But on the first week of my relationship with P_, we fought and he said we could just split. For the first time, I cried because of a guy. For the first time, I didn’t know why I cried. Hurt ego? I can’t accept the fact that I was being dumped when I thought he’s so into me. Out of pride, I retorted, “sure why not? You chased me, I didn't, so it's your loss.” But inside, I wanted us to last. I wanted to slap myself for saying my piece with tears flowing on my cheeks.

More bickering followed. I can't remember the details because I automatically self-delete bad memories. What I’m sure is that, in all those fights, in all those years, I cried. One day, I got tired crying. My best friend, who returned home from abroad for a short vacation, just listened. I apologized for being a drama queen and not making her laugh. She let out a few sighs, a deep breath, then said, "you cry now because you learned to love."

Really? Did I cry because I want to be loved more? That’s pride. Or was it because I still love the man who made me cry? Maybe this is crying when you're happily unhappy. That’s crazy. I was hurt by our fights, but in my heart, I’ll be happy to stay in love. Crazy love.

I got crazier with my friend’s explanation, but I couldn’t deny it. When I learned to love without counting how much love I get in return, I cried. When I got more love than I wanted, I cried. When it was time to say goodbye to my not-so-perfect family and embrace a new strange world to me, I cried. I just cannot stop crying the moment I tied the knot with the man who first made me really cry.

Now, I see tears welling up on my eyes over scenes from movies or books. Or when I pray for someone I don’t personally know but feel his or her burden. And cry when hubby makes me feel so loved. I cry over situations I never thought I'd end up crying. And I don't mind now. I like these tears better, they are my so-called “happy tears.” They just flow easily, but they remind me I feel what it means to truly love and be loved.

Unhappy thoughts make you cry, but happy thoughts can sometimes make you cry even more, I now tell my sister. This crying doesn’t make me any richer like the actress. But it gave me a sense of power. Hubby told me that when I cry, his heart just melts though I hurt him too. He warned me not to use it constantly or it will lose its power. I won’t risk that, it makes me feel like a rich queen of a king who first taught me to really cry and still makes me cry.