Stories from Somewhere

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

In life, there's no expiration date to figuring things out.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

There are some people you miss with an ache in your heart that will never disappear. There are others you miss with a thought and a smile. While others you miss with a hurt that sinks you to your knees.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

Soba and Life

Today just wasn’t my day.

I wanted to cook something new for my family, and I remembered a leftover pack of soba in the pantry. I decided to look up a recipe on Pinterest - something that even a cooking dunce like me shouldn’t have trouble with.

I found one which I had ingredients for and started cooking. I made a mistake right off the bat, putting the onions with the sauce step instead of the stir fry step. But I kept at it, reasoning that since I had used pre-sliced onions, it shouldn’t make that big of a difference on the overall result. Besides, I'm nothing if not persistent.

I overcooked the soba.

I’m sure you cooking aficionados are already face palming yourselves at this rookie mistake. How can someone be so inept, you wonder? Well, I’ve always surpassed people’s expectations and cooking horribly is one of them.

I kept on. I cooked the whole dish despite the soba looking like a dog’s dinner. The taste was there, I reasoned again. It doesn’t look appetizing, but it still tastes delicious. Besides, I was raised to never waste food, so I finished it, and placed it in front of my flabbergasted family with a sheepish disclaimer. “I overcooked the soba, but it’s okay, it still tastes good.”

As expected, no one ate it except me. (Don't worry, I had another dish prepared as well!)

Life is like that overcooked soba.

My gut told me I was overcooking it, but I kept reasoning it didn’t look cooked. In all honesty, I didn’t even bother to check because the recipe said it would take 5 minutes.

In life, we sometimes follow the path marked out for us even though our instinct says it’s incorrect. I could have aborted the cooking at any point during the whole process, especially before I reached the point of no return, but I didn’t.

Similarly, I could have started over the minute I knew it wasn’t right. But I didn't.

Like me, you may have stayed the course because you regret the time and effort you've already spent, even though you're wasting even more of it the longer you continue.

Today, it’s more acceptable to shift careers or change courses when you realize you’ve made a mistake or when your first choice no longer suits you. There's freedom in knowing we're no longer expected to stay in one job, remain employed in one company or even stay with the same person! The first signs of a wrong choice usually happen early on - so early we may not even recognize it unless we have the experience to do so. In this case, perhaps I can be forgiven for not realizing what was happening. I'm not an experienced cook despite doing majority of the cooking for the past 4 years - but that's a story for another day!

In cooking as in life, we sometimes substitute ingredients when we don’t have the exact ones the recipe calls for. Depending on our level of experience, these experiments can work out. I can attest to that! Other times, when you’re inept in the kitchen (like me), luck DEFINITELY needs to be present. For us to take advantage of opportunities in life, we need the same things - a dash of luck, a pinch of adaptability, a cup of skill, and a handful of transferrable skills.

One of the first lessons we learn in adulthood is that not everyone will like us. This is true personally as well as professionally, and there's nothing wrong with that. We will not be a fit for everything - whether it be a job, a culture or an employer. Like that soba, there's high chance we can end up being rejected, especially if we continue to pursue something unsuitable.

There’s learning and growth when this happens.

It may be simplistic, but every endeavor we partake in, every relationship we enter, and even every career choice we make needs to add value to our lives, just as we need to do the same for whatever it may be. The moment that give-and-take isn’t there, the relationship no longer works, and it’s time to pivot and look for something else.

Now, I realize the pack of soba was old, and that could have affected the cooking time - who knows? I made Kraft mac and cheese a few minutes later and the pasta overcooked, too - and I was right there keeping a vigilant eye on it. (One thing about me - I learn fast!) Could it be I’d neglected to adjust the stove temperature?

In the same way, external factors can affect our life choices, too. Sometimes we really have no option but to follow through on what we’ve already decided because we have other things to consider. But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned - staying the course when it’s no longer right for you will ensure you end up like me and that clumpy soba. The flavor may be there, but it will leave an unpleasant taste in your mouth.

So... what did I learn from this experience? - Regretting the time you’ve already spent on something bad doesn’t make you gain more of it. - There’s always a choice if you choose to take it. - And your instincts are messages from your subconscious - it’s always temperate to pause and think about what it’s trying to tell you.

Maybe, if I had, my kitchen wouldn’t be reeking of sesame oil and starchy noodle right now.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

Forever Home

One day, between the roots of an oak tree, a foot or so beneath the ground, lay a young snake. He was asleep, coiled and dreaming, having come with his mother to hunt the night before.

Suddenly, his mother hissed into the nest, "Wake up! Wake up! We need to move!"

The little snake woke quickly, slithering after his mother. He was still half-asleep but knew better than to question her.

Once they've gained some distance from their nest, he spoke up to ask, "What happened, Mother?"

"The woods are flooding. The dam overflowed," she explained shortly, weaving back and forth across the leaf-strewn floor.

"Where will we go?" he asked tentatively.

"Away," was all she said.

After a few more minutes, which seemed an eternity for the young snake, his mother stopped. She beckoned him to go ahead of her and up a tree.

The little snake had never been there before, but he knew better than to question his mother.

The next few days passed in a blur. The little snake found fellow snakes to play with. (Snakes rarely played with other animals. They were too terrified, even when the snake is a python - like him).

One day, as the summer humidity pervaded the air - there seemed to be a gathering in the sky. The gray clouds seemed to darken in seconds, and soon, the rumble of thunder boomed across the expanse of the forest.

The little snake lifted his head with a start as did the other animals. They sniffed the air - something seemed amiss. Without a second thought, the snake headed swiftly to the tree he and his mother now called home.

He met her at the base of their tree. Her mouth opened to speak when lightning struck the top. A branch fell right beside them, narrowly missing his mother by inches.

"Come," she said, ushering him away from the spot.

The numerous hiding spots they found in the next hour or so already had an occupant. Finally, exhausted, they found a pile of sticks beside the river.

"We'll stay here until the rain subsides, and then find another place," his mother instructed.

The little snake could hear the violent rush of water beside their temporary home. It seemed chaotic. The little snake felt a rush of fear. He hated water. He remembered falling into a small lake when he was younger. The fear that overcame him when he saw the water above his head. The panic when he couldn't breathe. Only a floating stick helped. He still remembered stretching his whole body and wrapping himself around it.

That little stick had saved him.

"Rest," his mother suggested to him.

He couldn't.

The water was too near, and the rain hadn't dissipated. He needed to warn her if the river flooded and they needed to leave again.

Rain poured throughout the night. The little snake didn't realize that the river was too far down to flood the banks where their pile of sticks was located. He didn't sleep a wink all night.

"Did you get any sleep?" his mother asked in the morning. The sun was finally shining outside, he could see it through the spaces between the sticks.

Blearily, he looked at her. His mother gave him a hug. "Were you scared all night?"

He nodded.

She gave him another hug, and said, "Why don't you get some rest? The rain has stopped and we're safe here for now. I'll go get us some food."

The little snaked just nodded, coiling his body tightly. He fell into a dreamless sleep.

In the dark of night, the little snake and his mother set off to find a more permanent home.

"Mom," he asked tentatively.

"Yes?" she asked, head moving from one side to the other, making sure the coast was clear. They were in a clearing, well in sight of humans that may pass. They both knew that though most snakes feared humans more than humans feared them, some didn't completely understand. So he and mother were used to slithering away and avoiding any potential conflict that may arise.

"Will we be on the run forever?"

His mother stopped and looked at him. "I hope not, honey."

Finally, just as the dawn started to break, they reached an area with tall weeds and thick coverage. His mother decided they would stay here. As before, they found a makeshift cave. This one surrounded by sturdy rock with a nice overhang to protect them from the elements.

There were plenty of animals in the area, enough to sate their hunger and keep them going.

As the days turned, the little snake found new playmates. He was happy with his new home.

One day, he asked, "Mom, when are we leaving?"

"Leaving?" his mom asked in puzzlement.

"Yes. I need to say goodbye to my friends when we do."

"We're not leaving. Not unless we have to," his mother answered.

And the little snake was flooded with a feeling of peace. He had never stayed in one place for long. This would be the first time. He was excited. Staying was a new experience for him. He was used to leaving.

He now had to opportunity to get to know his new forever home inside and out. Something he'd never been able to do before.

And so, that's what he did.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

Being afraid of death is normal, but it shouldn't rob you of your joy of living.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

His Bleeding Heart

The air has been knocked out of me. The little whoosh silent but taking me by surprise. My vision narrows, and I reach my hands out to steady myself. It feels as though the world has tilted. I must maintain my equilibrium, keep my poker face on, despite the sweat that's starting to dot my forehead.

Everyone who sees me would never see the turmoil behind my eyes. The pain and the panic swirling within my thoughts.

What should I do? What will happen next?

I see his face in front of me, blurry and unfocused. Quickly, I swipe an arm across my eyes, crouching in front of him. I cup his face with my quivering hands. His declaration has taken me by surprise, and I couldn't think properly. At first.

Now that the shock has waned, every detail of my surroundings is coming into sharp focus. Our curtains lift a little with the breeze, the napkin tucked under the saucer fluttering without care. I see the remnants of my lipstick on the rim, the last dregs of the coffee I'd been drinking cold inside the cup.

My eyes scan every feature of his face, committing each to memory. I remember how many times we'd spoken about the future we'd share together. The dinners we'd spend laughing about this and that.

I just sigh, straightening up and heading toward the kitchen. It's getting late, and I need to prepare dinner. He chooses to stay in the living room. His eyes looking almost vacantly at the basketball game on tv.

I wash my hands carefully. I was planning to make burger patties out of our leftover ground beef, and I needed every inch of my hands clean.

He used to bring every stray he meets into our house. His bleeding heart unable to fathom them being hungry and abandoned. After the fifth one, I'd put my foot down.

He would go to work every day, and leave the actual care to me.

I can no longer stand the toll it takes - not only physically, but emotionally. We can never keep these animals; our children are allergic to them. We've had to hide them in the shed for fear our children would meet them and fall in love.

Tonight is our anniversary. I'd taken special care with my appearance. Our children have been sent off to their Grandma's to spend the night, a little sleepover party I'd told them.

Of all the nights he could have given me the bad news, it had to be this night. I could scarcely accept the news. The shock forces me to widen the distance between us. Him into his designated spot on the couch, and me to the kitchen.

I sneak a glance at him around the corner. He's just sitting there, with nary a care in the world. And why should he look disturbed? His world hasn't changed. He knows I'll be here to pick up the pieces.

But I don't think I will be.

I look around the brightly lit kitchen. At the marble countertops and wooden shelves. When we first moved in here as newlyweds, it was what compelled us to buy the house. Since then, I've spent many a time preparing meals for our family in this house.

Placing the cast iron pan on top of the stove, I turn the knob, waiting for the pilot to turn on. The sound of the vent sucking up any smoke fills the small room until I can no longer here the game.

My hands toil even as my mind calms. I've known what I need to do. Known it for a couple of months now.

I go over all the details of my plan. It won't be easy. But if I do everything right, I can make both of us happy.

"Dinner's ready," I announce from the doorway.

With a grunt, he pushes a hand against the chair and stands. His figure has filled out since I first met him. The shoulders and arms heavily muscled, his hips slim, and his legs sturdy.

"Thanks," he says as he slides into his chair. The piping hot burger I'd placed on his plate still emitting steam. I'd fixed it just the way he liked - with copious amounts of ketchup, lettuce, tomatoes, bacon and slices of cheese.

I won't be begging him to stay. Not me.

But if he's leaving, I want him to realize what he's missing.

"I appreciate you not making a fuss about it, Eileen," he says before taking a big bite of his burger.

My mind flashes back to the suitcase waiting in the hallway. I didn't even think he knew how to pack his own clothes, let alone where the suitcases are.

I just make a murmur in my throat in response. I've lost my appetite, but I know I have to keep up my strength. I'm going to need it in the days and months ahead.

"About the kids," he starts.

I hold up a hand. "Why don't we talk about that next time? Our lawyers can figure that out, surely?" I say, using my knife to cut myself a sliver of meat. I detest burgers, I prefer my patty plain. If I'd know this was where we'd end up, I'd have chosen a different menu.

"I'm hoping for joint custody," he says, ignoring what I've said. "I'll do my best to find a place nearby, so they won't need to go far."

"No reason for things to change for them just because we're divorcing," he chews noisily, taking a big gulp of water to help the meat go down.

"I agree," I say, resigned to having this discussion.

"I do appreciate your sensibility and cooperation on this," he informs me. "I'll need your help in making sure the kids accept Amara, too. After all, she's to be their new stepmother."

I make another murmur in my throat, taking a sip of water. He must have mistaken it for assent, as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

I wait for a few minutes before I speak again, my voice stronger this time. "I do have a few concessions regarding that point."

He looks up. "The children shouldn't meet her until you're sure of your relationship. I won't have them hurt. They'll already be hurting once they hear the news. We should take it easy on them."

"I don't see any reason to rush."

He snorts derisively. "They've already met her a few times. I don't think they'll need a bigger adjustment period. Maybe you do, but not them."

I clench my skirt into a fist under the table, not deigning to give him a response.

Instead, I stand to take away both my plate and his. I've cleared for him during all the years of our marriage, and even though it's about to end, I wasn't going to stop now.

He grabs my wrist, stopping me as I turn away.

"You'll always be my first love. It's just - I've fallen in love with someone else now. You have to learn to accept it."

I take a step firmly away from him. "I don't need to accept anything. You're the one who'll need to adjust. I doubt you have anything in common with a 20-year-old fresh out of college."

"That's beneath you," he admonishes. "I'm leaving soon, I just need to grab a few things I've forgotten in the bedroom."

Making no acknowledgement, I move away finally, walking with leisurely steps to the kitchen. Heaving a deep breath, I slowly place the plates inside the dishwasher, clicking the door shut with finality.

No one can fault me for not being an exemplary wife. I've done everything that's to be expected and more.

Thud.

The sound reaches my ears, and I walk toward where I guess it's coming from. Perhaps something's fallen out from the closet.

Pausing at the bedroom door, and clutching the frame, I look at him in the bedroom, having fallen backward into the mattress.

Moving closer to him, I give him a smile. I slip the syringe I'd prepared earlier from my apron pocket and quickly gave him another dose. His eyes look desperate and pleading - frantic - but I don't give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I hum to myself, grabbing him by the legs and pulling him to the kitchen.

It's my domain, after all.

I've had enough of his strays. I can't believe he dares to build this one a home.

I always knew his bleeding heart would be his undoing.

I warned him.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

Fears and Thrills

Her lips opened in a protracted scream as the ride whooshed through its tracks.

I never thought she'd be allowed to get on. She had always been too tiny, too afraid to try thrill rides before. This time, because there were other little girls in the group, she mustered her courage to check whether she met the height requirements.

She did.

She even had to scooch a little lower to meet the bar.

I released a breath - whether in relief or fear, I wasn't sure.

I was happy for her. She seemed excited she'd get to go on. Thrill and fear reflected on her face in equal measure - her little gap-toothed smile wide as she was declared eligible to ride.

Her little friends cheered her on. They were so excited for her. They weren't afraid, and they wanted to spend time with her.

I kept researching the ride - what did the experts online say? The people who've ridden the coaster before.

"If your child is a thrill seeker, he'd love it. If he isn't, better skip."

That's what the planner had told me. And that was for my 11-year-old. We're talking about a mite of a girl, just turned six.

A blog mentioned how smooth the ride was. That it wasn't clunky like the Seven Dwarfs or Thunder Mountain, both of which my daughter rode the day before - and enjoyed.

My husband and I decided - we'll have them check her height again in the front. If they decide she can't go on, we'll be fine with that choice. Her safety came first. Foremost over any ride or bonding time with friends.

The long line helped me calm my frazzled nerves. I was never one for thrill rides myself. I've never gone on a coaster with loops, and have, in the past, asked a ride operator to stop a ride mid-run, screaming at the top of my lungs.

It's added worry when it concerns your children. Your emotions are heightened, your fears doubled. Whoever said having kids means having your heart walk outside your body was correct.

Getting on the ride... My daughter looks anxious and excited. The lap bar is pulled toward us. It assures me to see it fits snugly against her lap. No straps across the shoulders mean it's a lesser thrill ride. We get into position, my legs braced against the floor, my left arm crossed in front of her, and my hands holding tight to the lap bars - one in hers and one in mine. She hides her face against my arm, and I put my head on top of hers - our normal position.

The ride starts.

I understand now why people online said it was a smooth ride. No risk of our heads hitting each other as it did during Thunder Mountain. This coaster is all smooth speed and spins.

I kept my eyes mostly closed, though I did see some of the tracks and effects. I watched my daughter. Her eyes were open as well as her mouth. The speaker was right by my ear, otherwise her screams would probably have been louder.

Unlike Thunder Mountain when her shouts were of joy, these ones were mostly terror. A constant "aahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!" issuing from her mouth.

It felt like a long three minutes, yet at the same time, I was surprised to find it over.

When the ride stopped in its tracks, I lifted my head even as I looked at my daughter. She said, "that was fun. Scary but fun."

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

Blown with the Wind

No one knew where the feather came from.

It appeared one balmy summer evening, twirling with the breeze and delighting the child whose cheek tickled as it flew past. Little arms stretched out to try and catch it, but no one could predict which direction it would go. Only the wind knew, and other than a slight whistling as it blew, it gave no clues.

The little feather danced harder even as bigger hands cupped it and gave it to the little ones. It shifted this way and that as a hand held it aloft. This time, it blew against the wind. It tickled the feather when it was brushed along one chubby cheek, delighting in the new sensation. The air rang with peals of unrestrained laughter.

Night came, and the little feather lay on top of the cool wooden nightstand. It was more bedraggled than it had been, it felt tired but sated at the enjoyment it elicited. The fun had been exhilarating, but the little feather had never felt such unrestrained freedom.

It sagged a little - the soft lullaby the child listened to crooning it to sleep. Before he knew it, the mother had gently cast him out of the window where he landed on the soft grass, crackling from the heat of the day. Stunned to find himself in the wilderness again, the little feather lay still.

There was no wind to blow him away, no breeze to take him places. The little feather was resigned to his fate. He couldn't move himself - he had no choice but to wait.

Before he knew it, dawn was peeking from the horizon. A wet object snuffled him away from the ground, now dewy with precipitation. He found himself partially inhaled inside one moist nostril before he was yanked away and thrown into the breeze.

A small cloud of dust carried him off. The wind created by cars zooming along the street conveying him to and fro. The little feather flew for what felt like hours, though in truth, it was only a few minutes.

And so, it happens. Over and over, the little feather finds itself getting picked up, played with and tossed away. The novelty began to wear off, and the little feather was tired of the constant activity.

Craving some silence, the little feather dreamed about the days before he'd drifted that balmy summer. He didn't know where he was, but he'd been among others of his kind. He'd belonged. He'd felt connected to something bigger than himself.

Now, he felt untethered, subject to the whims of the wind, with no possibility of going against the direction it blows.

Finally, the little feather - now battered and weary - lost its wispiness and beauty. It no longer looked fluffy, nor attractive. Its barbs had furled inward, clumping together, dark and soiled.

As it neared the end of its life, it found itself into the compost. And as it disintegrated into the soil, the little feather looked back into his life, and realized that despite the weariness, the uncertainty, and sometimes, the fear, he had lived a full life. He'd travelled, gone to places the other feathers had only dreamed about, and he'd brought joy to others.

Now, he was returning to the earth from which all things came. And, finally, he was at peace.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

Below the Surface

The path spreads out in front of her - unravelling like a spool of thread with each stroke she takes. The end is dark and distant, her field of vision, narrowing like a tunnel. She can't see it, but she knows it's there. Each kick brings her closer to her goal, and she can't wait to finish, though she's enjoying the journey. Sunlight pierces the surface of the water and reflects molten forms of gold on the graphic tiles. Beautiful shadows dance across the floor, rippling with each movement.

Her arms cut above the water, powerful and physical, making a slight splash. But underneath, it looks quite graceful, like a ballerina's. The half-circles she creates as she carves a path underwater look like the aura of the sun amidst the darker floor. She focuses on her breathing, concentrating on finishing the lap. Bubbles mar part of her vision, the little gurgles filling her ears.

She's forgotten how much she both enjoys and resents swimming in a pool. The silence is sometimes too much to bear, given how used she is to listening and doing so many things at once. But, in all honesty, she's thankful for the silence as well. The solitude gives her a single-minded focus she can't seem to achieve away from the water. Here, the quiet is a backdrop to her thoughts. She can't help but revel at actually hearing herself think. Here, below the surface, there are no demands on her time, there are no questions to be answered, no problems to be solved. Here, she can simply expend her energy on herself.

Below the surface, she's more than someone's wife, someone's mother, someone's friend. She's just herself. Swimming grounds her in a way other movements do not. Though swimming so long and so many times will make her regret doing so without a warm up, there's joy to be wrought from the pain of sore muscles.

Below the surface, she's actually putting herself first.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

No Way Out

Tears were brimming in her eyes. Her shoulders drooped with despair. There was no way out. She desperately wanted to escape, but the law prevented her from doing so...

Her story ran in the same vein as others that had been shared with me before.

***

She had gathered her courage and set out for work in a foreign country, in search of a better life for herself and her family.

Despite the fear that wracked her every day, every hour since she heard the news that she got the job, she reminded herself of her reasons for doing so. She hugged her son close to her. Kissing him at every opportunity. At 5, he didn't really understand what was happening. He was told his mom was leaving, but he didn't fully comprehend what that meant... yet.

All she could explain was - Mama had to live far away, so she can buy him food and toys. He was happy and mollified with that. She told him she would call every day - every chance she gets. But really, who knew if that was even possible?

She was so full of fear. She was afraid of the unknown. She was afraid her son would forget about her...

Her husband...

She prayed hard every night for a better future. She hoped her employers would treat her kindly. She hoped the loneliness wouldn't overcome her. And, most of all, she hoped she wouldn't find the adjustment too difficult.

Her aunt would be there. She had promised they'd see each other every week on their days off. She had said she'll introduce her to her friends, and before she knew it, it would be as if she'd never left home.

Now she'd been here for two years. Her contract was about to be renewed. Her employers have booked her a return ticket home - a right she'd earned after completing her contract.

It had been tough - especially the first month. But she'd lucked out. Her employers treated her kindly and with respect. Some of her friends weren't as lucky.

Her son was now 7. He was so happy to see her, he'd given her the biggest tightest hug at the airport. They were planning to hold a belated birthday celebration, so she could be there to attend. He had grown so much.

He'd lost his baby fat. His arms and legs were gangly - he was all knobs and knees. But he was healthy, and he seemed happy.

All her relatives had gathered in the living room of their house to welcome her. She was happy to see them all. They helped her open the boxes she'd brought with her. Boxes filled with gifts - food in the form of chocolates, crackers, sweets... She had bought a lot of clothes, too. Luckily, she'd set aside the ones she'd bought for her son. Her relatives had eagerly distributed all the packages they'd found labelled with their names. They all gave her gleeful hugs and showered her with thanks.

They had prepared a feast for her homecoming. There were plates of noodles, hotdogs, fried chicken... and platefuls of rice, of course.

Over the next couple of weeks, she struggled to catch up with everyone. Her husband seemed happy for the company, though it took them a few days to get into a routine. She was no longer doing his every bidding, and he was no longer used to informing someone of his whereabouts. Still, the lovemaking was as good as it had ever been. Though it was a challenge to do so with their son wanted to sleep beside her every night.

She didn't tell him she'd started taking birth control pills. She didn't want to get pregnant again until she'd saved enough for their family. Getting pregnant would mean coming back home and being hungry.

Her husband told her he'd found a job as a driver for one of the rich families in the city. He's still on probation, but it seemed to be going well. He was earning something at least. Their son was being cared for by his mother if he needed to do overtime work.

When it was time to leave, she almost couldn't bear it. Her throat was closing up from holding the tears back for so long. Her son and husband dropped her off at the airport, along with her mother. Her son's howls filled the air. He couldn't understand why she had to go so soon. And just when school was about to start, too. He'd been so proud to wear the brand new uniform she'd bought for him. He'd thought she'd be there to see him off.

Her mom gave her a big hug and admonished her to be careful. She slipped her some money inside the pocket of her housedress before giving her a loving kiss on the cheek. She crouched down and whispered into her son's ear. It took a while, but his sobs quietened and he allowed himself to be led away.

She and her husband shared a hug. They would have kissed but they were in public and such things just weren't done. She kissed his cheek instead, before she pulled away.

Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she gave her ticket and passport at the check-in counter.

***

If she could have slammed the phone down, she would, but all she did was press the button hard. She'd been working overseas for 6 years. Covid had not allowed her to take her mandatory home leave last year as she'd been entitled to. Her employers offered monetary compensation instead, and she gratefully accepted.

Though her ticket was free, the money she spent every time she visited was a lot.

They needed the money for her son's graduation, and even more to do some construction in their house. Her husband knew all this, but he had not been happy about it. By now, she'd gotten cynical about the homecoming she receives. Happy as her relatives always were to see her, she knew they loved the presents she brought much more.

Plus, they always saw her as a walking ATM. Even the neighbors.

Every time she came home, they would approach with hands outstretched. Not literally, of course. Except the kids. But with them, she's happy to share all the sweets she could.

She'd bought her son a simple cellphone, so she could call him. She'd also bought him a tablet. This way, he could watch all those videos he loved, and look up some of the homework questions none of his family knew the answer to. She called him every day on the dot at 7 pm, when her employers ate their dinner.

It was getting harder and harder to get him on the phone though. She knew it was normal for a kid his age. After all, he had a lot of homework, and he liked to play with his cousins every day after school. She knew she should be thankful he was even doing his homework. it was easy for kids like him, whose moms weren't living with them, to do other things. She assumed it was his grandmother's influence. It was certainly not her husband's. He'd made drinking a habit every night, too. He had been fired from his driving job for alcoholism, and he had told her he wanted to take a break for a bit.

That was six months ago. Then he'd had an excuse. Covid made it unsafe to travel or go anywhere else that wasn't home.

Now, it seemed like he was quite happy to spend his days using the money she sent on drink and women. He had also stopped leaving their son with her family on the weekends. She had gotten angry when he learned it was her mom who told her he was going to nightclubs at night.

She had threatened to lessen the amount of money she transferred overseas if he didn't bring their son to visit her parents. That had been the reason for the current argument.

***

She was in despair. She hadn't been able to talk to her son in months. Her husband was keeping him away from her, always just telling her he was busy when she knew he wasn't. The last time they spoke, he couldn't wait to get away from the phone. Away from her.

He still messaged. But they were full of scorn and blame.

She used to think he understood why she had to leave him. But now all he sent were accusations of abandonment. That she was never there when he needed her.

She so badly wanted to rescue him. By this time, no love was lost in the marriage. Her husband had been cheating on her with multiple women throughout her employment. But now, this one was serious. And pregnant.

His stepmom treated her son shabbily. This only added to the resentment her son had for her.

She was hoping her employers would allow her home for a visit. She just needed to speak with a lawyer. All the ones she'd reached out to said she needed to be there to file a custody case. And because her country had no divorce, she would be legally married to him forever. There were other options, but none that she qualified for.

All she really wanted was her son. She'd be happy to send her husband even a little bit of money, so long as he agreed to let him live with her family and relatives instead of his. All they'd done these past few years was poison him against her.

There was no way out of her bad marriage. But it wasn't too late for her son. He still had his whole life ahead of him. He could live a better life than she did.

He was what she was fighting for.

For him, she was willing to endure anything.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

The Beginning

My story starts in much the same way as everyone else's.

The attraction.

The tantalizing smile.

The sizzle.

The relentless texts and warm hugs. The thoughtful gifts meant to show he was really listening.

He made it hard to say no.

To make my own plans.

Have my own friends.

He acted as if I was his world. And that all I needed in mine was him.

Until I realized that all I know of my friends came from their social media accounts. I hadn't spoken to them in months.

What few I have are co-workers. Women he insisted on meeting... And charming.

I should have known better.

Now I do.

But it took a while.

I slowly realized he wasn't good for me.

He wasn't even good ENOUGH for me.

I started finding myself again.

I made plans without consulting him. I made choices without getting his advice. I made new friends... and apologized to the old.

I rediscovered my love of ice cream... And chocolate desserts.

I started singing out loud and dancing to the music.

Though I still dream of marriage and finding someone special, I'm happy and I'm in love with myself. I know what I want and what I'll settle for.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

Adulting

When you're a child, you look at the adults in your life and see how much freedom they have.

Freedom - doing what they want, when they want.

Now that you've grown up, you realize just how absurd that thought was.

Being an adult actually means being a slave to two very specific things I could easily ignore when I was younger.

As an adult, there's no escaping the ringing of that alarm clock in the morning.

I've never felt less free than when that happens. I remember I AM the alarm clock and that I better start moving.

I've been a mom for more than a decade - you'd think I'd be used to this routine by now. But, nope, I'm not. All the more I long for sleep-ins. And if the kids are looking forward to long weekends and vacations, I'm even more so.

As an adult, I'm a slave to mealtimes. I wake up, prepare breakfast.

At 11, I need to start cooking/ heating up lunch and prepping for dinner.

At 12, I cook dinner so that I'm free when kids come home.

I can't explain just how hard it is to know what dish to cook. It's a whole different ballgame.

I have, maybe, 10 dishes in my arsenal that I cook on rotation. I'm so sick of my own cooking, and it amazes me how my husband and children don't feel the same.

I'm hoping to prepare my firstborn enough, so he doesn't subsist on instant noodles and fast food when he goes off to college. I comfort myself with the thought he at least knows how to make eggs - hard-boiled, sunny side up, omelets, and scrambled, which is more than I was able to do when I was 15.

As an adult, you sleep thinking of what food to prepare or eat the next day. And, as an adult, you sleep knowing you have X hours before you need to wake up. Rinse and repeat.

So if you think adulting means doing whatever you want. Think again. LOL

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

Discovering Infidelity and Its Aftermath

I've been browsing through the mom groups in my Facebook lately, and all I've seen are posts about infidelity, cheating spouses, crumbling marriages, and the subsequent despair and confusion.

The posts are true the world over - from my mom groups in the US, Australia, and even Asia.

Majority of the comments advise leaving. Setting aside some money then leaving... making a secret plan then leaving... Many of the posts break my heart. Some of them obviously know what the answer already is, and they're looking for validation on their choices from others who may potentially find themselves in the same situation.

Some are venting. The incidents and discoveries are still fresh, and they need to share the information with people who have no emotional investment in the outcome, who can provide third hand advice without judgment.

Truth be told, when it happened to me, I wish I'd had a community of strangers to share my pain with and vent to. But, honestly, when I first found out my husband was cheating, I just wanted to crawl inside a hole and stay in a fetal position until I was ready to face the world again.

My world shook and things were never the same.

TRYING DESPERATELY TO UNDERSTAND

When, finally, I opened up to a select few. They were outraged, flabbergasted and shocked. Their advice was mixed, but like with everything else in my life - I take others' opinions into account and then make my own. I'm lucky that they were all supportive with whatever my choice would be.

I had to take some time to really examine what I wanted to do. I tried scouring the internet for reasons why people cheat. They profess to love someone yet betray them the next. Some even do both at the same time, cheating on multiple partners. As a somewhat morally upright person, I couldn't understand. There are serial cheaters, while others cheat emotionally. There are those who cheat with prostitutes, co-workers, nannies... Those who have one-night stands and those who have long drawn-out affairs. The hardcore crowd would say, "cheating is cheating." I won't argue with you on that front.

The most difficult part of the healing process for me was having to do so on my own. At the time, my husband wanted no part of it. And, in the beginning, I didn't either. I was numb and I didn't care what he wanted to do. I didn't care what he did, who he spent time with, etc. I didn't beg him to stay nor did I ask him to try to fix the marriage. I wanted no part of him. I just wanted to move forward.

One of my personality traits is a need to understand. Let me tell you - trying to do so when you've been wildly betrayed by someone is... difficult. But it's my curse.

Articles from the unfaithful partner's perspective are few and far between. Most are afraid to come out and explain, for fear of the judgement that will definitely come at them like a tsunami. It's the same for those who stay - they're the silent minority. I stayed and for a long time, I kept quiet. Now I'm using this forum to speak and share my experience.

One article stood out to me, and I found it the most helpful. There were a few others like Mort Fertel, who became a source of solace for me in those days, weeks and months. He's a world-renowned relationship advisor on the subject of healing marriages broken by infidelity.

After some time, for me, staying became the only choice. And I knew it was what my decision was the moment I started trying to understand why he could do what he'd done. Now, I am NOT saying that staying is always a choice. When physical abuse is present - when lives are at stake and children are also in imminent danger, don't even think. RUN.

THE REALITY IS, SOME MARRIAGES AREN'T WORTH SAVING

Not every marriage is salvageable post-infidelity. It ultimately depends on how willing you both are to work toward bettering your marriage after. Perhaps I'm talking about this quite clinically. Being cheated on is devastating. It's soul-shattering. And even more so when you realize you're the only one who can pick up the pieces. That the person you'd once relied on to help you was the one who did the breaking in the first place.

SELF-RESPECT AND CHOICE

Now, I can hear all the feminists uttering a war cry and snorting throughout this post. You're entitled to your own opinion, of course. I was in your shoes, once. I told myself that the moment my loved one cheated on me, he'd be gone like THAT. But when it happened, I was not as quick to decide.

When someone cheats on you, there are many factors to consider. If you have children, you have to take them into consideration, too. I understand that you don't want to set the wrong example. That you don't want to model a bad relationship... a bad marriage. That you want to set an example of respect.

But what about your self-respect?

When someone cheats on you, THEY'RE disrespecting you. But that doesn't mean their actions trump your own view of yourself. My pride was hurt. My heart was broken, but his infidelity has nothing to do with who I am. It doesn't make me less of a person. I'm still me.

There are a lot of memes of celebrities having everything and still getting cheated on. Cheating speaks more of the cheater than it does of the cheated.

I knew - know - who I am. I know my worth even though he didn't see it at the time. Perhaps that's what helped me stay. Because his opinion didn't define me and how I saw myself.

Fixing a marriage after infidelity is no walk in the park. I would even say, it's one of the hardest things I've ever done. Even now that we're years post-infidelity, it's still hard. I still have triggers that I face. Memories that I have to deal with. I just take it one day at a time.

Infidelity can definitely break a marriage, but it can be a catalyst to healing it, too. This decision is up to you - you're the person who was cheated on. You decide whether you're willing to move forward. You're the one who will question everything that's happened since the affair started. You're the one who will second guess yourself and your actions. You're the one who will replay every word or move your partner makes. If you realize it's too hard and you can't move forward as a unit again, that's fine. Empowerment in this instance means having the choice and making it.

Whatever happens, stay or go, you're still you. You're still as worthy of love as you were before you got cheated on. Just because your partner didn't, or doesn't, see it, it doesn't mean you should follow their sentiment and lower your own value.

I don't reject people's advice about leaving relationships when people are cheated on. But I do reject that it's the only option.