A lot of things had happened since my hubby decided to work in Manchester. The first thing was my resignation. I quit my job mainly because I couldn’t handle everything on my own, which is juggling between being a good employee, an attentive mother, a great home maker and excellent student. A week after my ‘self-termination’, (that was the term that the HR manager of my former employer used when she was addressing my resignation matter with my team leader) I updated my other blog with a post commenting about the way my coursemates were treating me.
Whenever I post an update to any of my blogs I would deliberately write everything and anything that was running in my head, my mind and get them out of my chest. Ain’t it obvious? It’s my blog, it’s up to me to decide on the kind of topics that I’d want to share with the readers (though I know that not many would wanna read it). It’s not like I explicitly type out the name(s) of the person(s) I was talking about. Was it wrong for me to express my feelings? As I was typing that particular post, that topic was the most disturbing agenda that I had in my mind and my chest. I didn’t know who, how or where to let it out to. My blogs are my only means of exploding my rampage mind to others. At least, I never let it out loud to their faces. May be, I should have done that instead. All I asked for was some empathy, but none was given. After that blatant post on my blog went through to one of them, I sensed negative vibes around them. I pretended as if nothing happened. To avoid that unhealthy ambience, I decided to finish the assignment on my own instead. Long story short, the completion of the assignment was worthwhile as the professor gave us credit for it. He really liked the presentation.
Then, just a few days before I sit for the semester’s final exam, one of them informed me that they found that particular post on my blog was rather disturbing. So what if I wanted to comment them on their ‘kind’ remark towards me? I just needed someone to listen to my twists and turns. Is that so hard for them to do? I tried explaining my mishaps once or twice but none seemed to care or even listened. I felt like I was chased away when one commented, “why didn’t you go off with your hubby?” After all the explanation about how costly it would be to study abroad, one could still come out with that remark. I just don’t understand why some people never try to understand other people’s hardship in life. I guess my hubby was right about everyone being selfish. Almost every person that I know only cares about their feelings and frustrations without thinking of others, and not even once that they tried to understand my situation.
On the night of my final paper for that semester, my hubby’s mother called. I returned her call just after I walked out the exam hall. She informed that she and her husband were in the neighbourhood and asked if I would want her to pick up my boys from the baby sitter’s place. I said yes. And soon after, I met them at their place. They bought baju raya for my kids. We chatted as I enjoyed the meal they prepared. For the very first time during my six years of marriage, I’ve found a topic that we could comfortably talk about; my hubby’s working abroad. I’ve been longing for this moment, the time when I could finally see eye to eye with them. All this while I’ve been snobbish, and now that my hubby’s 17,000 kms away from me, it made me realized that they’re the closest persons that connect me to my hubby. To my beloved hubby, your going away may have been the greatest lost now but it has brought you, me and the kids so much closer to your parents and your entire family.