Telling Parents You See It

Lately I’ve been pretty emotional when it comes to my 20 month old and I. Watching him and tears moving in with all there bags and furniture.
And they set up home nicely in my heart.

I basically live alone here. Noone gets to see me interact with my child.
I am too blame for this.
However, going out in public, displaying the bond between Parent and child, is not something that is really taken into account. People don’t come up and say ‘ hey, i noticed the connection you have with your child, it is wonderful to see!’.
But I wonder if we looked for that.
When out at a playground or play group, we looked for details of a great connection between the two.
And I wonder if we spoke up, and if we told them that we had seen it.
What it would do.

Parents need compliments. They need to know they are doing things right. And emotional comments are going to hit a special place in the heart, furthering the relationship between parent and child.

I’m not saying we need them to be a good parent.
But it does help immensly.

I get sad because none of my family sees it. Not even my own partner. Not because it isn’t there-it most certinaly is-but because they are not around.
They are not around to value, to have appreciation.
I wouldn’t expect them to feel the connect like Zeek and I do.
But that’s the thnig that makes it so special.No one will have it.

So whenever I’m back in Canada and can communicate with people, I hope I remember this.
That to tell parents I see a glimmer of the bond they have with their child, is something I want to do. ( Of course, when I really do sense it.)
Because I know how much good it will do.

A Reason for Cynicsm?

I got a pedicure a few days ago. In a mall.
500 baht was the going price. 15 bucks Canadian.
It wasn’t on the form they had which told of what they had to offer. But me and owner discussed it and agreed on what was to be done for that price.

Looking back now, I am upset with the way I handled it.
I’m frustrated and embarrassed.
I shouldn’t have let it happen.
You would think I would know better since I’ve been here so long.

Once the hour long foot fantabulousizing session was over, I was led to the counter to pay. She proceeds to type in a number in the calculator and shove it towards me without making eye contact.
1200 it reads.
I’m completely taken aback but I act like I’m not and say, “it was 500”.

“no because …”

I don’t even know what her reasoning was. I can’t believe I even thought it made sense at the time?

But it somehow did.
And the lady that had done my nails was standing there all sweet and innocent. She had done a good job.

And I didn’t even look at her the whole time I was in front of the counter.

I had mumbled a few words, as I was reaching for my wallet, thinking that I understood.
I even handed her a tip!!

Once home, it all started clicking into place. How wrong and backwards and messed up that was.
When I first began to get my toes done she came around and had asked if I wanted to do my hands too, and it would be 1000 baht. For both pedi and mani.

So how in the heck??
I had got the basics of nail polish, no acrylic, no chillack or whatever the heck they call it…
And she had knew I was going for the simple.
Even writing about this occurance gets me all red hot again

It’s a reminder as to the reason of my cynicism towards this country .

It also is a very good picture as to how it’s changed me.
How I’ve become such a backboneless person. I can feel it in moments like that.
And I’m embarressed because I don’t like it at all.
It will not ever grow here. I know that now.

Feelings that Took Five Years

It took five years for me to cry over American or Canadian English,to flip out when I find Honey Nut Cheerios in a grocery store. It took five years for me to cry sitting on a mall floor, at the sight of shoes I know people in Canada would wear.
The intensity of longing and desire, of yearning and of miss, derives from the length of time they have been felt.
I laugh at this. I embrace it. I am in love with it.
It is a part of me now. I will not always miss this.More importantly I will not always miss like this.
So even though this breaks me, even though this aches, even though I crave English interaction so much I talk to myself almost every day at lunch,
it is beautiful.
It stuns me.
The simplicity of it all.

More than half of my friends, will never feel like this. More than half, have not lived abroad, let alone for five years.
I accept that it will forever make me different. That those friends I had, will not understand.
I accept that now, maybe my selection of future friends will have to have had simliar experiences to this, thus slimming the amount of friends I find and connect with.
I will take a hold of this and run with it.
For to deny change at such a level, is a hopeless solution.
I will only be weak because of it. And if I am weak, how will my future friends confide in me or find solace? How good of a friend will I really be?

Resentment

We all feel resentment.
And I wonder just how much it affects how we do things.
It’s a difficult thing to curb, even once realised.
We can blame for the poor quality at which we handle things.

I feel less good of a Mom when husband falls asleep in the same room as we are playing. I am not angry that he sleeps. It is being in the same room while he does. I don’t try and be quiet but I can’t help trying to. I take my frustration out on Zeek.

This is just one example of the many ways I experience it.

Back in Memories

This morning I’ve slipped fast into a sullen place.
I’ve got country music in my ears, cold air blasting and an empty coffee mug.
Country music brings me to the summer of 2011 back in Canada, when it’s all I listened too. My heart aches.
For those people. Those memories.
Memories are special because you don’t get them back.
How intricate are the sad ones mixed in with the bad ones.
How good the idea of leaving it all behind heightens every single thing that happens in my time there.
But it doesn’t matter how much better it makes it.
I would choose to stay there without the idea of leaving.
And maybe next time I go back, it is what I will believe.

Making Good from ‘ Bad ‘

I write differently to different people because everyone is different and people need to hear things differently or read them written that way instead of the other way and each way makes you pick up snatches that aren’t the same.
People make me figure stuff out about myself.
I only have my own self reflection here in Thailand so going to Canada and being exposed to mirrors that talk back is incredible. It makes me feel more like a person instead of a shell and it is scary to think that I may think of myself as a shell in Thailand and only that. But there is so much to feel in Canada. So much to give and so much to take and I have to stay sensible and realize that it is only because my time has been limited each and everytime I have went back,for the past four years. It affects these things so much so, that breaking down isn’t so much of a surprise. Because these are the life sized things. For me. These are the things that pinch my heart and stagger my thoughts and wind my ideas so that they go walking across the carpets on missions to unknown destinations.
That is me dealing.
There are always many tears when I say goodbye in Canada and I am always trying my best not to drown in them. Being conscious of it. It is good to feel that way even though it is hurting.
If I felt none of this, could I really sense the better in the good? If I had nothing to compare. Nothing extreme to relate it to, then the good wouldn’t be so good and the value would be non-existent.

I Stayed Quiet

We all need to write about ourselves. To use the words ‘I’ and ‘me’.
More importantly, to speak about us.
If we don’t ever say or write about ourselves, we will get in a rather tangled place.It may take years for us to notice. But it will happen.
Living abroad for the past five years has added so many eggs to the mixture. And get this, they’ve had the shell on.
Living two lives is easy when they are on either side of the world.
I would have rathered one. But I got a taste of both. And I’ve been mixing them since I was 17. I didn’t mean too. It just happened.
I spoke to friends in Canada very little about my life here in Thailand. They didn’t ask much so I didn’t tell. I’m like that.
The very few Thai friends I have, well, it’s just useless to try and explain any kind of passion or love I have for my own country and the miss that comes with it.
Over the years I have got more quiet. It’s easier that way.
But it’s done some serious damage. Now I’m in this spot and I’m like, ‘Who the hex knows me?’. Noone does.
Maybe I’ve written about myself here and there, but over time I have slid in more deeper and became more afraid with revealing the actual me to the people in my life. It got easier to hide away and when people don’t ask any questions.. well.. it’s current that I don’t even mean to be in.

I stayed quiet, let time unravel, and now the string of it is wound up tight all around me.
Writing about me helps, but it’s action that’s going to change anything.
Oh the things that living abroad does.

You Can Know You’re Tired When..

There are lots of ways one can know they’re tired.
Lots of ways someone can not feel tired, but by the things they do, can know they’re tired.
For instance.
I didn’t pull down my underwear to pee. Thankfully I realized this before I did.
I was trying to put milk into another bottle-from a milk box-through a straw. Once I realized that I was trying to use the slow and messy process of a straw, I got scissors and cut the box open. But Milk sloshed out onto my keyboard base.
Ohuurrggg! Rats as big as alley cats!!
I put the milk in the fridge and knocked something or other but closed the door because I was in a hurry to do something or other else.
When I opened the fridge five minutes later, a whole tray on the door came off and clattered to the ground. Butter, cheese and eggs.
Eggs.
Some were hard boiled, some were not. And I’m halfway inside my fridge reaching for the ones that rolled inside while goop is seeping out of the one in my hand and I’m trying to figure out which ones are hard boiled by smelling the ones that aren’t cracked?

Making Happy

People make me happy. So I do spend time around the one’s I connect with the most.
I know what gets me to happy so I make sure I don’t lose sight of that.
Sometimes my surroundings only provide me with what I need. And that makes me able to go find what I want. Happiness I believe, is a need. But there are many places to get it from. And sometimes the place I want to find happy in, is not directly related to my surroundings. In finding it, I am creating it. In the areas of creativity and interaction. In expression, in questions and mutual understanding.
People are darling creatures but sometimes you only want certain ones to experience you, and sometimes you only want to experience certain ones.
Time is valuable. And we have a lot to learn.

I hope that we all strive to make our days happy. Because after all, that’s the timeline of you that people have to go by. Now, and when you are gone.
But what good of a line, if you were never happy making it?

Wants,Needs and Relationships

I look back at the men I have liked in my life and I see resemblances and similarities.
I think we all have types but sometimes they are broad enough to be categorized into a non existent file.
It is a file in itself and today I pulled mine out.
Some men I have been with are much more similar than others. The dynamic is a bit different in each relationship. But this is what I’ve noticed.
There is a very creative type I enjoy.
I have only come across or recognized it in two men.
And the first relationship didn’t end because we wanted it to. It just did.
I enjoy creative minds. Men that will act on stage, will make funny faces and do projects, just because.
I am attracted to this type because I see it in myself. I am shy in a lot of ways but I know I am able to unshell if I am with a person that is already out of theirs. And to be out, is a confidence.

In almost all of my relationships,the guy has started to like me more than I like him.
I end up getting the pants in the relationship up past my knees before I realize I’m wearing them. And I’d rather us both wear them.

I start out pretty dominant.
I have confidence in who I am and I already know they will like me before they tell me. I know how to be in order for that to happen.

I know they will find me interesting and exciting. All the little quirks about me that are mentioned in each friendship or relationship I enter..they are points I focus on now because I know the value people have for them.

I used to be more pure. More innocent. I didn’t recognize my difference.
Now that I have,I use it.
It still is a huge part of who I am, but I feel I have enhanced it, and maybe not so naturally.
But maybe it is naturally.
Maybe this is growing and collecting confidence.

I have dated men that I turn silly.
Serious five years older than I, silly.
I bring youth, I get excited about small things. And they latch on.

And lastly, I find myself in a relationship where I respect and admire more than I ever have before. I am proud and look up to him just as I do my father.
I have not ever been much of a responsible person. I get my mother to pay my cellphone bill, I get dad to fix the broken wheel on my bike, I lose my phone and I use my sisters.
I have been spoiled in life.

And my life now, is an indirect correlation to that fact.
It is not until I found him and have lived with him for years that I understand fully, why I need someone like him. It is not fully, until we have a child together.
It makes a difference that we are in his country though and it has come to a point where I am desperate for independence.
I wait.
But it gets difficult.

I understand now that I need someone to do bills and medicals and buy plugs and run errands. Someone that doesn’t complain if the dishes overflow or if a trail of ants is leading from the front door up the stairs.
I am lazy.
And he is too.
But when he needs to get something done. He will do it.

I need someone that is responsible for me too.

Each relationship we get into is a reflection on where we are at in life.
Sometimes we know that the one we are with at age twenty one is the one we want to be with at thirty six.

But along with wants, there are needs.
I haven’t figured out the exact place where each should go but I know they are both important to have and to fulfill.
I have most of the needs covered but I am not as happy as I know I could be if all my wants were too.
I am a realistic person and I understand that I cannot have everything. If I thought that, I would have left Thailand two years ago.
But I see the damage that can occur when a long time want enlists itself as a need.

I like balance in life.
My needs are being taken care of.
I am happy for that.
But there is a portion of happiness I miss. That creative fun going energized happy.

I am aware I can create it. But it is the first time in my life I am doing it alone.
And it is because when I was twenty one, I fell in love with a man who could fulfill my foreseen 25 year old and older, needs.
It was important enough to me that my wants dissolved and now at twenty five when all my needs are met, the wants come raging full force.

It is a far different relationship I’ve ever been in.
Our relationship will change when we move to Canada. And I am very interested in how.
I will become busy outside of the house.

As for now, I find my wants of creativity are being fufilled outside of the home.
I have found it in the second most creative person I have met in my life.
It is one of the social pieces I crave.
But sometimes I wonder, if it is becoming a need.