I have been in Canada the past two months. The country I grew up in . The people and culture that is now engrained in me. Within 24 hours, I will be at an airport with my son and Mother and I will be flying 18 flight hours back to Thailand where house is and husband will be and I will pick up on my life there, where I left off. For the past four years I have been living on both sides of the world and I don’t know how to do it any other way. I am scared for the future. I am excited. I am aching with the goodbyes and my stomach is sick with dread. With what I know is to come. My eyes are bloodshot and dry, tired and drained. I don’t know how to do it any other way because this is what I have known. This is the heart ache I go through every single time I come for a visit. This is the pull and the push that happens. That leaves me weak in the knees. I am exhausted and feel numb and empty and full of every emotion all at once. I am in shock. In unbelievability. Because it doesn’t make sense in my head how the time happened. How in two days I will be back to an entirely different lifestyle. I am freaked out because I don’t know how I will be. I shake and spin and hope that I can do this. That I can get through one of the hardest times leaving. I do it this way, involve and invest, attatch and connect to people here because if i don’t have this, then I don’t have much.I need this closness in order to feel valuable in this world. I need to feel loved by more than just one person. Leaving loved ones is one of the worst feelings. But because I can feel that way about them, it is also one of the best.
My head is spinning and I’m whirling myself into people’s arms hoping to make some impact.Hoping they won’t be able to forget me and I am neglecting my child and own sister and mother and it hits me today that going back is going to be harder than ever before. Not exactly the leaving part. But the living there part. I have now experienced this life with friends and child.I have finally combined them too in a rapid pace and I am clinging to it.
I have no energy for my child. I am pushing him away as I step outdoors and gulp the last of this air. The people glow. I am feeling guilty and worn and my voice is half gone. I am pushing myself on 5 hours of sleep at night. I am doing as much as I can in the time I have. I am getting frantic and simple things are now making me whimper. Planning to meet people is becoming difficult and I am snapping at my mother.
My ends are unravelling and I feel at this point I have no control. Nor do I want to. My eyes are set on here and now. On the stuff that I won’t have for much longer. I tell myself I’ll be better in Thailand. That I’ll fix this madness. That there won’t even be anything to fix. But deep down I know, something is up. I’m not a good mother here and I don’t know if I will be as good of one over there as I was before I left to visit Canada.
I am scared.
I am emotional.
I am breaking down.
My son is almost four months old.
I’m finally pretty darn confident I know what he wants each time he cries! I’ve learned it over the past while and it’s a hill I feel connected to and am proud about.
But there will always be hills when it comes to raising a child.
The next one that is already at my feet deals with habits.
I know what will stop my baby from crying but do I want him to depend on it months later? Do I want him to need my boob or for me to be laying next to him, in order to fall asleep?
This is something I’ve been faltering with.
This is a hill I must get over.
By doing so I will have to hear my baby cry more. I will have to use other things to soothe him… to vary it before dependence becomes an issue.
But he will for much longer, depend on the things I provide.
Depend on me for the things he needs.
Two times in a week is a record for me.
But I guess I’m somewhere within those frames of mind, that let me see a solid picture. One that I can feel for and write about.
My hands smell like the small rubber gloves I was wearing. I picked up leaves with them. Me and my Mom. At my house.
And when I go back to Canada for the holidays, I’ll be at my parents’ house.
And that’s all different because their house and my house were always the same.
I think I’ve done a lot of growing up in the past year. I think I knew it to. I didn’t try to swat it away or sprint from it.. I accepted it. I find that some people have difficulty with this and I think that’s okay because everyone is different.
I love my life and something very big is going to happen in it; if not next month, then the one after.