That was at 8 this morning… Izzie and Milo in the back seat of my car, all confused and scared, looking out the window trying to understand what was going on.
I felt much the same on my drive to Kalamazoo. I cried as I was loading up my car this morning, cried as I told Izzie and Milo to take one last good look at what once used to be home (not that they understood, but I think I was really talking to myself as I addressed them), cried as I drove off and cried for a good portion of the rest of the day. I felt the worst kind of pain inside, like my heart had been ripped from my chest, and no painkiller could numb it. I yelled out, “God, do you really exist? If yes then how could you be so cruel! I was happy once, I’m sure I’ll find happiness again but why do I have to lose what I already had and look for it all over again?”. I reckon this is an atheist’s version of a prayer!
Throughout the drive this song kept popping up in my head.
“Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels,
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields… I don’t know where I’m running now, I’m just running on
I’m running on empty”
I have lost hope and drive I once had- I’m running on empty– simply going with the flow without offering any resistance. Perhaps the only hope I have now is to find hope again, to rediscover the desire to get up and seize the day, not passively go through the motions, and finally to be able to see the ‘bright side’ in all this.
By the time I reached here, I realized that much of my earlier despair had already left me. There is something invigorating about new things. Finally moving into my new apartment, I suddenly started enjoying the adventure. When I finalized this place during a previous trip I wasn’t thrilled about it. Once I got back to Buffalo, I kept thinking how much I loved my place there and how this wasn’t good enough. As a matter of fact, I’m still holding on to the apartment in Buffalo. But when I saw this place again today, with the keys in my hand, I really liked it. While I was in Buffalo, I kept looking for excuses to justify my nonchalant attitude towards this place- It’s ok, too small… My furniture won’t fit!- I said. But as I’m looking at it now I am mentally placing my furniture and it fits just fine!
Tomorrow I want to go out and explore the city- local stores and such. I am sure I will like that too. Day after, I start work. I am a workaholic. Being unemployed was the worst thing to have ever happened to me, not just for reasons pertaining to immigration and finances, but because being out of work left a gaping hole in my life. I felt I had no purpose. I know it’s a case of misplaced priorities and identity, but I identified myself as my job status, or at times my immigration status. This break has taught me to be at peace with myself for what I am, not what I have. With this knowledge, I’m looking forward to going back to work, and this time, striving for a better balance.
So all said and done, I think I’m beginning to see the light at the end of this tunnel. All this while, hope was dwindling, and by the time the big day arrived I had none left at all. But somewhere along the way I have refueled. I still feel cheated and robbed of the happiness that I had. I am not happy today, but I’m no longer sad either. I’ve long tossed the idea of ‘everything happens for a reason’. What’s happened has happened, I will make the most of my new circumstances. I might end up in a good place, and people will call it THE reason. I won’t. Even if this new life makes me successful beyond my wildest imagination, I’ll still maintain that it shouldn’t have happened the way it did. I am not going to deny myself the grief for my loss in the name of optimism. Just as I’m not going to let grief stand in the way of me living life to its pull potential.
2016 is all about new beginnings for me, let’s hope for the best!!
Happy New Year 🎉