I Question My Decision

I awoke at 430am with my head launching repeated questions and thoughts of one of my lifes biggest decisons. The mind spinners that make your tummy ache alittle and your heart race a lot. The thoughts that are so powerful you dont even really have space to be angry with them for keeping you up.

Five years ago I made the decision to come to Thailand. Between now and that first decision, I also made the decision to live here. I don’t remember when it was, I don’t even know that there was a specific moment.

And so here I am laying in bed, wondering if I will regret this ten years from now.
Wondering if I will regret leaving behind all my solid friendships, taking myself out of the equations back in Canada and making one new one here. Will I wish that I would have held off? Will I tell myself that I should have let my early twenties be my drunk, silly and friendship-focused days? I feel a bit saddened and sorry, a bit lonely and worried. I feel outside of Canadian life and maybe that won’t ever really go away..

It scares me.
To think that maybe there will come a time when I will question all that I’ve done and wonder why I chose to do what I did. Maybe I will hate myself for having left people I loved, for moving away from so much laughter and happiness.
I think back to those years leading up to my departure. So much overflowing goodness in them that it forces me to question why. Maybe now that those memories are only just that, they have more of a rosey tinge than actuality. Maybe things had petered out and my friendships were dragging. Maybe it wasn’t as fun as I think it to be now. Maybe it got old.
Maybe in the end I won’t understand why, but I will just accept and believe in whatever reasoning it was back then.
I’ll probably have faith in my own self, to know that I did what was best in that time.

These thoughts continue to circle until I reach this deafening point.
I believe that things happen the way they are supposed to and if I did not meet my husband here and if i met him but did not love him enough to stay, then frankly, I couldn’t say I know a love as strong as this.

I have stayed because of love and that reason is the best conclusion I’ve ever had.

Cleaning That Brings You Up

It’s good to recognize the fall and rise of days. Waking up, knowing that today you don’t feel so well. That you don’t quite want to do as much work as you did yesterday. Reguardless of the pile of laundry or the dishes in the sink.

Some days I just would like to do nothing but type or write – to have no responsabilities.
I am certain that these thoughts and feelings will occur throughout life. That’s just the way it goes. I will try and be better at accepting that low days do come with the high days and that this is exactly part of life. I will not only accept, I will do my best to embrace. Because embracing gets you places even when whatever it is, is not something you want to wrap your arms around.
I’d rather not feel like this, and I can try and get out of it, but fighting it rarely works with me. It just gets me more riled up and frustrated. I usually end up in tears and sweating, trying to do too much at once.
It’s like the night before I gave birth. I was out raking leaves and straightening my hair. I was cleaning places in the house that I had never touched before. With a child especially, the cleaning spree you intend to go on, just doesn’t feel as good. Because half the time you have to stop mid-way. Half the time, you finish half the job.
So instead of trying to work through things around the house in a huff, I’ll save it for another day. A day where I’ll feel better about interupptions. A day when cleaning brings me up, instead of down.

A Change In Me

I’ve never liked doing chores. I suppose that’s the way it is with a lot of people. Even in my late teens and early twenties…Mom did the work. I was spoiled and it is probably why I don’t know how to iron shirts properly or clean toilets well. It is probably why flowers I recieve, die in a few days and my cooking skills are at zero.

Having a child kind of changes all that. I don’t feel that it HAS to change. I’ve heard some pretty hairy stories of woman having babies but who do not keep the house clean or safe.
Some mothers like to keep there place cleaner than others. Thats understandable.

But I’m talking about me here.

It wasn’t in my self to stand for 45 minutes finishing up dishes after dinner or vacumning at least once every week or doing laundry every other day. I don’t know where the guster comes from. When all I really want to do is sit in front of this computer box and tap away.
I know I’m pretty selfish. And so thats why this surprises me.

I’m handling this motherhood thing better than I thot i would. And i don’t even know for sure how i thought i would. I just feel different and better and greater of a person.

I guess I’ve embraced it.
I’ve discovered that I like clean things-specially when they are my own. My house, my clothes, my yard.

I didn’t know a baby would do this.
Did you?

 

A Thai Funeral

We can all admit. Funerals just suck.
I haven’t found anyone that likes to go to them.
But they happen and we know that to go is the right thing to do.

I’ve never been to a Thai funeral.
And it just so happens that neither has my husband.

It also just so happens that his fathers’ is the first one we attend.

and it sucks.
More than a Western Funeral.

It wasn’t written down in his will but he had repeated to Morgan and his Thai wife that he wanted his funeral held at Wat Phala. Not Wat Ban Chang. ( Wat – Temple ) This was one thing he was adament about.
It was his dying wish basically.
It makes me cringe, it makes me almost hate her.. for having the funeral at a different temple.Because it was more convienent for all her friends to get to… It disgusts me and enrages me and Morgan and I stand to the side after continually stating that it is not what he wanted. But that doesn’t matter because he is dead now and the Thai’s don’t quite care about the dying and there last requests.
It’s sickening.
And so there we are, where we shouldn’t be. And the body arrives in a little patrol pickup truck. and men get out and they carry Martin with blankets over his body, onto the wooden table at the front. He lays there for 4 hours while we stand around and sit around and while Morgan and his step brother and sister and friends and step mom take water from a bowl and pour it into their Fathers hand- which was forced open 10 minutes prior.
I do cry here. And I know I’m the only one that is.
The body is just there. and thats what i can’t get over. I can see his boots sticking out the whole time and his right arm with all his bracelets sticks out too.

It disturbs me and it is mainly just because it is not what I am used to.
It is not how we deal with the dead.
But in the end, it really is all okay because I am here in Thailand and this is their way and I have to respect it reguardless of what I’ve known.

I hope that when you come across something in your life that makes you want to reject or to ‘uninvolve’ yourself just because it is what you are not used to, that you don’t.
I hope that you put on your guts and go through with it.
For respect, for strength, to be better after it’s all said and done.