"Sometimes it's just a
trivial little thing that sets people off."
Got that from a Yahoo news article
about a Texan husband who shot his 2 dogs and his wife after just because one
of the dogs defecated in their home. The wife died instantly from the gunshot
in her head.
The quote above was uttered by
the police inspector in the crime scene and somehow, it had a reverberating
echo in my head just because I nearly lost it last night due to some supposedly
“trivial things” that happened at home.
It started on my way home when I saw
an apple green new beetle which I have always thought of as a good or lucky
omen. I thought, maybe it’s what I needed because just like a bomb about to
explode, my separation anxiety is about to go off several hours away from Honey’s
vacation trip back to the Philippines. (He will travel 5 days ahead of me
because he has more vacation leave.)
But it seemed like the ‘bomb’ is
about to explode earlier than expected. When Hon and I went to do some last
minute shopping in Hamdan Center (which is like Quiapo or Greenhills in the Philippines),
I have battled the first sign of my separation anxiety attack. Before going
home, I went in to look at one of the shops and let the boyfriend wander at
other shops which is what we normally do. So I took my time thinking that he is
still looking at stuff at other shops (surprisingly, he is the longer-shopper
than me). But then I received a text message from him saying that he’s already
in the car which was parked several blocks from the mall. So I was left to walk
towards the car by myself. When I got there, I immediately asked him a pent-up,
“Why the hell did you leave me?” And that ticked him off as instantly as it hit
me that he left me in a crowded mall by myself when he could have just went
back to the shop where he left me and we could walk together towards the car.
He said, “There were ates who were
bugging me to buy their kakanin, I had to escape.”
Really, that’s it?
I don’t think he could ever
understand my separation anxiety. Parting times really make me crazy and I feel
like every second counts, hours or days before saying goodbye to someone. Though
there’s no use in telling him that right after I received his sms saying that
he was already in the car I lost my breath and I immediately felt abandoned and
lost. But I just silently sat in the car until we got home just to avoid an
argument.
As if that was not enough, when
we got home, we were told by flatmates that our previous “crazy bitch” roommate
will return in a few days from the Philippines (after mental treatment) and
will be in the same room with me! That’s my cue to finally set off the pent-up
anger I was carrying.
 |
| GRRR! |
I guess this is the crucial
difference between me and my man. He is a diplomatic, friendly, accommodating,
good fella, while I am a straightforward, intuitive, loyal and a one-time-mess-up
kind of person. While my man is very peace-loving, I am a totalitarian when it
comes to what I believe is right. And that includes my intuitively accurate way
of choosing my friends and fighting for my rights. I am finding it hard to come
up with a way to settle this one difference between the two of us. As for now, I
could only retort with a “cold war” with the true enemies – my separation
anxiety and that bitch. Of course I can’t be angry with the beau, maybe it’s
just the separation anxiety speaking.
Argh! I blame it on the apple
green beetle!
"Fear, as opposed to anxiety, has a
definite object (as most authors agree), which can be faced, analyzed,
attacked, endured. One can act upon it, and in acting upon it participate in it
even
if in the form of struggle. In this
way one can take it into one's self-affirmation. Courage can meet every object
of fear, because it is an object and makes participation possible. Courage can
take the fear produced by a definite object into itself, because this object,
however frightful it may be, has a side with which it participates in us and we
in it. One could say that as long as there is an object of fear, love in the
sense of participation can conquer fear. But this is not so with anxiety,
because anxiety has no object, or rather, in a paradoxical phrase, its object
is the negation of every object. Therefore participation, struggle, and love
with respect to it are impossible. He who is in anxiety is, insofar as it is
mere anxiety, delivered to it without help."
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