First of all, I am proud to say that I’ve blogged the whole month of August through without any failure. I guess persistency is not one of my strength, except when it comes to holding onto a lasting monogamous relationship with a person I love. August had been one hell of a kick in the face for me. New job, new surroundings, new friends, new plans and a lot of things starting to paint a whole picture.
As I was typing away on gtalk talking to the man I love, half angry at his absence and half doubtful of what’s going on. It got worse when he said ‘you’re gonna hate me’. Is it another guy? Did he get back with his ex? Did he not get his job? Questions were everywhere but as I’ve mentioned before in the earlier blog, I was ready for a full blow in the face but as I read the actual lines he wrote, my eyes started to well and as I read more of his messages, I started to have a silent cry. It got harder to breathe and everything around me began to get blurry. The good thing was my anger was gone.
It’s not like my dad died of alcohol but my last moment with him was a week before I went back to Singapore to study, which was the December of 1998. We had a Christmas party at my mom’s parents’ relatives house. Christian turned Buddhist grand-dad still got his relatives who are strong Christians and this annual dinner has been a huge excuse to meet my cousins I never knew existed. My dad got uncontrollably drunk and I was ashamed. He had to be led onto a car. He looked like this big loser and it hurt more since I KNOW my dad is not a loser. Never was. I came home and I cried to my grandparents saying I will never come back to Myanmar again unless he’s sober and my grandma and I shed some tears from a heartbreaking weep of rage.
I would normally come back every six months from Singapore and my house calling me back in February 1999 was a bit of a shock to me. The shock died when I got back to Myanmar only to find out my dad passed away. It was because of alcohol that I did not get to have a good father-to-son conversation with my dad. However, that had made me want to be a more responsible dad for my kids in the future. I’m not saying my dad was not responsible but I want to be there for my kids as much as I could.
I’m not gonna go into details since this was BooMan’s issue but all I could say was the fact that I will not be able to talk with him for some time and yes, once again, it was because of alcohol. Rather than blaming my husband-to-be boyfriend, I sat there, feeling lost like a five year old staring at the computer. I was afraid that I will not get to speak much to him anymore for a while. Both BooMan and I are the type of people who would do ANYTHING to get to talk to each other. If we have work trips, we made sure we emailed each other. If I had studios or other appointments, I made sure I left a few emails. Yes, we did that for eight whole months and what I was facing today was intolerable.
I don’t know how people react to peer pressure but before he said his goodbye, I asked him a question. “Do you see us living together happily ever after?”. He said yes and I let out a huge sigh of relief. That question was followed by a question I was saving to ask when I meet him. “Will you marry me?” He asked me if I meant it. My eyeballs began to itch and I was glad I got to say what I wanted before he left me.
“Think of little Sebby and Xavier” (For some weird reason, both BooMan and I want two kids and we both had thought of naming them Sebastian and Xavier if they were boys. Yes, it was co-incidence and quite shocking)
“Think of me waiting for you”
“I love you”
He left and ten minutes later, I did the stupidest thing I could think of but it was a strategic move. I put “Hein Eken has quit alcohol for good” as my facebook status. Why? Because this was to remind me to stick to it. I am not good at keeping every promise I’ve made but I’m a person of pride and a self conscious one at that. So, I did that just so I would wanna make sure I keep sticking to that decision. It was for BooMan and me. I’ve lost the man I love and the man I look up to without having to have a good conversation because of alcohol. I don’t wanna lose BooMan and this was my only hope. Hopes of seeing him clean when he gets back.
The after taste of comfort food has never felt this disgusting as I chewed on my last piece of meat dining alone at a diner. Despite my diet plan and my successful unintentional almost one month of no smoking, I used smoking with a pork chop as my only outlet to numb the fresh pain I had.
I was impressed by this little beggar who kept calling the people in the diner and begging for money. “Hey, the lady with the white dress” “Hey, the man with the suit”. I got up and gave the kid a 100 kyats note. It was a pretty good amount for an individual of poverty but as I stared at this kid, who would have potentials to be a good kid when he grows up, I see a glimpse of hope in everyone of us.
I feel hopeful.
I feel sober.
I ended up drinking water at Beyonce’s fairwell party and of course, I wasn’t my tipsy self. People were concerned and there was this dodgy old man, whose first sentence to me was “Hey you look really handsome” I never knew homosexuality in Myanmar is beyond obvious. Maybe, it was a true compliment but nonetheless, it was a feel good and I’d like to think of it as a reward to my first day of sobriety, which I hope would last forever.
As I was typing away on gtalk talking to the man I love, half angry at his absence and half doubtful of what’s going on. It got worse when he said ‘you’re gonna hate me’. Is it another guy? Did he get back with his ex? Did he not get his job? Questions were everywhere but as I’ve mentioned before in the earlier blog, I was ready for a full blow in the face but as I read the actual lines he wrote, my eyes started to well and as I read more of his messages, I started to have a silent cry. It got harder to breathe and everything around me began to get blurry. The good thing was my anger was gone.
It’s not like my dad died of alcohol but my last moment with him was a week before I went back to Singapore to study, which was the December of 1998. We had a Christmas party at my mom’s parents’ relatives house. Christian turned Buddhist grand-dad still got his relatives who are strong Christians and this annual dinner has been a huge excuse to meet my cousins I never knew existed. My dad got uncontrollably drunk and I was ashamed. He had to be led onto a car. He looked like this big loser and it hurt more since I KNOW my dad is not a loser. Never was. I came home and I cried to my grandparents saying I will never come back to Myanmar again unless he’s sober and my grandma and I shed some tears from a heartbreaking weep of rage.
I would normally come back every six months from Singapore and my house calling me back in February 1999 was a bit of a shock to me. The shock died when I got back to Myanmar only to find out my dad passed away. It was because of alcohol that I did not get to have a good father-to-son conversation with my dad. However, that had made me want to be a more responsible dad for my kids in the future. I’m not saying my dad was not responsible but I want to be there for my kids as much as I could.
I’m not gonna go into details since this was BooMan’s issue but all I could say was the fact that I will not be able to talk with him for some time and yes, once again, it was because of alcohol. Rather than blaming my husband-to-be boyfriend, I sat there, feeling lost like a five year old staring at the computer. I was afraid that I will not get to speak much to him anymore for a while. Both BooMan and I are the type of people who would do ANYTHING to get to talk to each other. If we have work trips, we made sure we emailed each other. If I had studios or other appointments, I made sure I left a few emails. Yes, we did that for eight whole months and what I was facing today was intolerable.
I don’t know how people react to peer pressure but before he said his goodbye, I asked him a question. “Do you see us living together happily ever after?”. He said yes and I let out a huge sigh of relief. That question was followed by a question I was saving to ask when I meet him. “Will you marry me?” He asked me if I meant it. My eyeballs began to itch and I was glad I got to say what I wanted before he left me.
“Think of little Sebby and Xavier” (For some weird reason, both BooMan and I want two kids and we both had thought of naming them Sebastian and Xavier if they were boys. Yes, it was co-incidence and quite shocking)
“Think of me waiting for you”
“I love you”
He left and ten minutes later, I did the stupidest thing I could think of but it was a strategic move. I put “Hein Eken has quit alcohol for good” as my facebook status. Why? Because this was to remind me to stick to it. I am not good at keeping every promise I’ve made but I’m a person of pride and a self conscious one at that. So, I did that just so I would wanna make sure I keep sticking to that decision. It was for BooMan and me. I’ve lost the man I love and the man I look up to without having to have a good conversation because of alcohol. I don’t wanna lose BooMan and this was my only hope. Hopes of seeing him clean when he gets back.
The after taste of comfort food has never felt this disgusting as I chewed on my last piece of meat dining alone at a diner. Despite my diet plan and my successful unintentional almost one month of no smoking, I used smoking with a pork chop as my only outlet to numb the fresh pain I had.
I was impressed by this little beggar who kept calling the people in the diner and begging for money. “Hey, the lady with the white dress” “Hey, the man with the suit”. I got up and gave the kid a 100 kyats note. It was a pretty good amount for an individual of poverty but as I stared at this kid, who would have potentials to be a good kid when he grows up, I see a glimpse of hope in everyone of us.
I feel hopeful.
I feel sober.
I ended up drinking water at Beyonce’s fairwell party and of course, I wasn’t my tipsy self. People were concerned and there was this dodgy old man, whose first sentence to me was “Hey you look really handsome” I never knew homosexuality in Myanmar is beyond obvious. Maybe, it was a true compliment but nonetheless, it was a feel good and I’d like to think of it as a reward to my first day of sobriety, which I hope would last forever.
Listening to: Michael Buble - Lost
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