"The third month is usually the hardest month, so I totally understand you on that." Katelyn said, while sipping on the can of chuhai (a fruit-flavored alcoholic drink of 9% saturation).
-me and my American neighbor talking while she pack her suitcase for her 4-day trip to Hong Kong.
Last Friday night, I had a breakdown.
Three months and counting.
I tried to act as normal as possible. Go with the routine all the way, but something is just really very heavy in my chest that day. I tried taking deep long breaths. But there were moments that I feel like I was running out of breath and need to catch some air in my lungs like I was drowning from everything that was surrounding me.
I went to the conversation class. My favorite teacher was absent, I would have just turned my back and just stay home for another hour, but my not-so favorite teacher (Wednesday schedule) was smiling and was willing to adopt me for that free class. I sat down, we started a conversation that wasn't really a conversation coz he did mainly most of the talking. Still, he had me entertained throughout the hour.
Then, it was time to go to work again.
The work day went by, as normally as I would have done it. Taking frequent bathroom breaks so I could catch my breath and stop my tears from falling down. I kept doing that countless times in side the toilet where no one can see.
Work was over. Where would I go?
I went to the only bar I go to. But the people I usually hangout with weren't there. The bartender, who usually kept me entertained was busy. And I wasn't really in the mood. After one tall glass of tequila sunrise, I decided to just head home.
I needed to sleep.
I bought one small can of chuhai again and decided to stay at my colleague's unit and talk about her upcoming visit to the Philippines. last minute reminders and check ups about the flight and how to meet with my family at the airport for some documents I asked her to bring for me.
Then, I started talking. Then, I started crying. I wasn't stopping. I just kept crying.
I am still trying to fight back my tears as I write this now. But I think, I am feeling a little bit better.
I didn't realize how difficult it would be.
I dreamt of moving here. I prayed for this. I am here now. But how come, I still feel that emptiness.
I am happy to provide for my family. I had always prayed that I can do that, but how come I still feel lacking of something? What is wrong? With me?
Tomorrow, I will start a 3-day trip around Kyushu. I hope that my Dora-dora adventure will provide me with new perspective, a refreshed being and a more positive attitude to let me survive my OFW ordeals.
But for sure, whatever happened to me last Friday, that won't be the last time. It will happen again. I just hope that I have someone to hug again when it occurs.