077: The 5 stages of distance

So my husband has gone back to Malaysia again for another meeting. Unlike previous times where I would not see him for almost a month, this time its just over a week. But it has happened frequently enough that I can distinguish patterns in my behaviour as a result of the loss of his presence.

Stage 1: Shock
Almost every time he had to fly back, he would give me a weeks notice or less. Its just the nature of his occupation: "We need you, and we need you right now." So weeks of our weekend plans are cancelled. Somehow I always get the news whilst sitting down, right before or right after establishing daily prayers. He is suave and gentle in his delivery. But my eyes widen and I am rendered speechless every single time.

Stage 2: Utter sadness
Since being married, I HATE (with block letters) being apart from my husband. I love his presence, to talk to and to physically hold on to. We have also been living by ourselves since marriage - just the two of us. When he is gone, I am alone, left to my own devices. And idleness and loneliness is never a good combo. It is a far departure from living in a flat full of girls, if I am lonely, I can just knock on someone's door. But now my friends live so far away. Currently, my sister lives with us. That has helped slightly but we are two so very different people. We stay locked in our rooms most of the time, so even if she is here, it feels like she is not. And when we do open conversations, I struggle to find things to talk about. So, with the departure of my only friend and companion, it is always hard to stay positive.

Stage 3: Rage
Feelings of abandonment creep in and I feel so angry. Logically, its not that he left for Malaysia on purpose - I know that. But I can't help but push the blame on him. He is and easy target after all. It is not right, but this is an involuntary stage, thankfully a short one. It often happens when he has already left. Any little annoyances trigger it: hair in the sink, slow internet, dishes in the sink. Boring everyday stuff. But with the absence of him, it just magnifies in amplitude and I would find myself swearing violently under my breath, throw things across the room and bang doors shut. It is not a pretty sight, but its one that I do in solitude when no ones there to be a spectator.

Stage 4: Numbness
The new flat that we have moved into is in a real quiet neighbourhood. Eerily so. So much so, one can detect white noise filling in the background. Usually when I get back from school, I would snuggle up to my husband and we talk, cook, eat - filling in the rest of the day. Without him around, I'm just yearning for time to tick faster. I fill in the physical lulls of my life with mind-numbing entertainment. Documentary after documentary. Movie after movie. Just to fill in the time gaps in between. Then it would be 11pm, time for sleep. Yay sleep! Time moves faster in sleep. And daytime is good too - school now is a saviour - it distracts me very well. Its just the evenings really, and weekends. I just don't know what to do with myself when I am alone. I am no extrovert - I stay away from gatherings with loads of people. But I want to be alone, alone with my husband.

Stage 5: Anticipation
I don't know why we do this, but we count weekends till we are due to meet again. 1 week could be misleading, especially when it involves 2 weekends instead of one. And counting in days involves too many numbers - making things seem even longer. So weekends are ideal. Especially when weekends are the hardest. Not for him of course, cause he works the whole weekend. Just me, cause I have nothing to do. Stage 4 and 5 overlap alot, but this anticipatory stage would supersede, especially if the days left can be counted with one hand. Thoughts like: "What should I cook?", "What should I wear?", "Should I pick him up from the airport?", "What is his flight number?", "Should I surprise him?", "I should clean the house" would fill my mind and heart with glee. Its like preparing for a date that you are certain would go extremely well. I love when we reunite as much as I hate us being apart. It is filled with relief, joy, contentment and a sense of home. My self is complete; whole.



I miss that feeling.


Currently I am in Stage 3/4. Too soon to anticipate our reunion as he just left. But writing about it reminded me that I have something beautiful to look forward to in 10 days time. Gives me hope. I might sound like a needy dependent person with no self worth, but I don't really mind. I am honest about my feelings however complex they might be. And I am comfortable with the part of my identity where I am attached to my other half. My ego doesn't drown it out, proclaiming that this feeling contradicts the fact that I am an independent woman (which it doesn't). Instead, I acknowledge this invisible knot that binds Akmal and I. When it feels incredibly taut and strained as a result of the physical distance between us,  I say to it: "Hello, have a seat. There is much room for you here. You are in all the sense very welcomed. We'll get through this together."