The Last Breakup

I'm picking up where I left off. The so-called last break up of my life.

Turns out there was more. But we'll get to it later.

I am married now. Exactly a month and a day ago. It does not even feels surreal typing that. They're not kidding when they say when you finally have it, you tend to take it for granted.

At most times, I feel like I'm behaving like the man -- in this sense, an ass -- in the relationship. I was more selfish, more temper and tantrum, more shouts and scowls. As for my husband, he is the real man -- generous, kind and patient. Very patient.

I refrained myself from talking out loud about how wonderful my husband is. I was afraid that The Big Boss up there, who is always pushing my nerves around (here thinking that He wants me to always be close to Him and not that He doesn't care about me anymore but Y told me to never underestimate His Mercy), would test me on the one person I hold closest to me at this rate.

I have lost my mother. But we'll get to it later.

Y does most things better than me. Even if it didn't turned out good and sometimes my ways could have produced better result, Y settled with what he made with a big smile, which always, eventually, makes him the better person than me.

Y cooks better than me -- that is one thing I am not fazed about, I am always the expert on menu rather than a cookbook. But Y also does things around the house better than me which that works me out because I used to be the Monica in cleaning. And if I'm not mindful, Y can also does this for another woman.

This could be newlywed bliss or it's not -- I have known Y since almost two years ago and if he slacks substantially big, I wouldn't marry him a month ago. Y has his very lazy days and I let him sleep in while I am one of the elves or all of them.

Sometimes, like today, I wondered what's next in this partnership. We make a decent start into our marriage -- we have a place to ourselves and we have all the basic necessities. Financially, we couldn't have been at a better place for a pair of lower-ranking white-collar newlyweds.

But I still have my emotional baggage although these days I am only taking the carry-on. I have my lazy and not looking-forward-to-work days but they aren't as nightmarish as before. In the five stages of grief, I moved to acceptance faster than I did in previous employment.

They're also not kidding when they say to count your blessings. And that this is what I have actually prayed for. A slower pace to enjoy the little things without losing my weekdays corporate atmosphere.I got too ambitious at the start of the current employment, tearing my colleagues to pieces every evening with Y but at the end of the day, like always, the biggest fault is me. I gotta move on and so I did. Sure, I am always killing for what is rightfully mine -- signed and legally binded in the employment contract -- but perhaps before, I have already taken things that are not mine and so He is telling it to me like this if I just listened hard enough.

Therefore, after all the outpouring rage and tears, fierce about being better than the previous company or at least beating them at one game, I withdraw and enjoy my slower pace days (until the contract ends in 2018). Be the comfortably-paid slacker who just finished off her incentive payout. Relish in the anxiety of baby-making -- I guess that's next in the partnership. Read The Grub Street Diet (previously known as The New York Diet) which I have always enjoyed -- but now that I'm reading it, I keep thinking about the Syrian refugees, especially the children.

And I should be arranging the folded laundry -- three guesses who does it but you only need one -- in the little room I used as a closet because I now have to co-owned it with Y but here I am, blogging. I also wanted to get back to planking and squats but hmm ...