I spent my years growing up doing countdown towards the month April. This year, all I ever wanted was for either January, February or March to stay where it was, let’s not have April come around.
I’ll turn 29 this year comes 13 April. I didn’t want April to come around because I’m scared of getting older; I’m just scared of growing up, of embracing future responsibilities, and of future challenges that may come my way. Sounds irresponsible? Maybe. But to justify that, I’m going to say that at the very least, I am honest about my fear and of who I really am.
If February was a month of whirlwind of emotions, then March is simply Madness (with a capital M). I know it seems typical to be calling March is a month of Madness, but I never really thought that it is indeed Madness.
Be careful with what you wish for.
How many times have we heard this phrase thrown at us? Or for ourselves to be saying it to someone else? More than I could possibly count. And yet, the saying has lost its meaning from countless of saying it out loud until the scattered pieces that is your life came together, and somehow the meaning came back to you. But, at that point, it’s a bit too late isn’t it? A bit too late to realise that you’ve uttered the wrong wish and no amount of money in the world could undo your wish.
It seems like a good idea at the time. It really was.
I genuinely thought that to broaden one’s own perspective and to enrich one’s own experience by travelling the world is a thing to be cherish. I was determined to seize the opportunity if ever it presented itself before me. I took a leap of faith by deciding to go to Latin America, even though my husband is in Africa. It seems preposterous, at the time, if I must cancel on my plan to explore the world just because I am married. It still seems preposterous to me, for someone to give up on their dreams and ambitions just because they’re married; what was lost to me, at the time, was that I didn’t have to give up on my dreams, I just had to tweak it a bit.
When the news broke that I was to move to Bogota by mid-2017, I was excited and scared, as expected. It took a whole day for it to sink in and for me to realise that Abuja and Bogota is not only far, but it is on two different continents with hours and hours of flight between us. It’s not getting better when I realise that Bogota and Seoul is farther apart, for RAM is moving to Seoul in 2019.
It’s not the distance, it’s the feeling like you’ve missed a high five that hurts the most.
My marriage is not a conventional one, but I’m not the only one in this type of marriage. I currently live in Jakarta, while RAM, my husband, is in Abuja. By mid-2017, I’ll probably be in Bogota, and RAM would still be in Abuja. By January 2019, RAM will have to move to Seoul, while I still be in Bogota. In 2020, I’d probably be back in Jakarta again, while RAM would still be in Seoul. In 2021, RAM and I hopefully will reunite again in Jakarta.
RAM said that we won’t be apart for four years, it’s just for one year (times four); we will try to meet up somewhere in between for as much as we can. But, it’s not conventional, it’s not normal, it’s not how a marriage should be done. That’s what others said to us. But, we’re not the only one in this kind of marriage, we’re far from unique. There are many more before us.
It’s never the distance that hits me the most, we have Skype and countless types of messaging app. I can talk to RAM anytime I want. Even the time difference doesn’t hurt me, it’s tiring to always have to schedule a Skype call, but I don’t mind that. RAM has the conviction that we will be able to do this long distance marriage, we will come out alive.
Have you ever about to high five-ing someone, but miss their palm by mere inches? It’s not a big deal, isn’t it? You can always attempt another high five, right? Well, imagine having to do that for, let’s say, three times and missing all of those attempts. You’re somewhat, angry/embarrassed/frustrated/determined, right? Well, being apart with RAM this time around feels like that. There’s more times than I can count with my two hands when I would be awake to start my day, checked my phone and there’s a text from RAM about 30 or so minutes ago telling me that he’s about to hit the bed.
To constantly start your day with a text from your husband telling you that his day has ended and he’s going to sleep surely can dampen your spirits, eventually. I am angry at our current situation, but more often than not, I’m just frustrated and determined to succeed and hoping that 2021 come sooner.
But, wait, didn’t I just said that I don’t want April to come, and now I want 2021 to come sooner?
Well, you can’t really blame me for contradicting myself, can you? I’m stressed out, I’m tired, I am most probably catching a cold as I’m typing this, surely I’m allowed to just complain and not make a sense, right?
It’s been a constant two weeks that I’ve been out of town, in preparation for my assignment to Bogota. A full two weeks where I lost all my weekends, because by the time I’m back home, I have shit ton of laundry and a dirty apartment that needs to be clean up. Not to mention, I haven’t finished with my administrative stuffs (of which I will not bore people with the details). So, please let me contradict myself.
In conclusion, March is definitely MADNESS.