I'm not sure if I mentioned at any point that things have started working out for us. They've finally granted him his PR status which means I can finally ask for permission to be legally considered his wife. You'd think that would come naturally - and it used to - but the rules state that first you have to prove it before they believe it. That takes about 2 years - they kind of put you on probation to see if you'll stick around.
But that's not the issue here. The other night while we were celebrating this much awaited success, I got to thinking, which I think we can all agree is hardly ever a good thing.
What started as a mixture of relief and excitement soon turned into a feeling of unadulterated panic.
You see, I've been lucky - I got married without really having to be married. Blame the visa restrictions if you will, but I think they were a blessing in disguise. Sure, it's a financial burden going back and forth all the time, but it's not my money I'm travelling on and I'm not going to pretend I know how hard it is to earn it. All I know is, I rather enjoyed going home every few months to see the folks. It became a sort of break for me from being all wife-ish. A vacation of sorts.
Don't get me wrong, I didn't enjoy being away from him, but living with Mom and Dad trumps everything. Even though by their standards I'm old enough to have had two children by now, they still treat me like their baby when I get home. While that was probably the most embarrassing thing I could think of back when I was still in school, ever since the wedding it's not only been happily welcomed, but practically yearned for.
So now that everything is falling into place, I'm kind of falling apart.
The thought of not seeing them as often as I'm used to is devastating to me. I now have to condition myself to accept that I can't count down to the day I'll have my mom's cooking again - because I don't know when that will be.
It's not that he's a barbaric control freak who won't let me breathe without permission (i.e. a very Indian husband) or anything - I count myself very lucky to have reluctantly agreed to the National Lottery method and still ending up with a wonderful human being to spend my life with - but now that everything is working out it means that if I want to go back I literally have to earn it.
That's not a big deal, you might say. Lots of people have jobs and visit home all the time.
But when you're absolutely broke and haven't had a job in like, ever, it's a frightening prospect.
What if no one will hire me?
What if I suck at what I do?
What if, even if I do get hired, they fire me again and I can't keep a job long enough to earn anything?
What if I've forgotten how to make new friends?
What if my colleagues hate me?
What if I hate them?
What if I hate my job altogether?
I've asked myself these questions several times, and asked him once or twice or twenty times. His answers are sweet and encouraging, but sadly ineffective.
I think I finally understand why people get cold feet before they settle down.
Fortunately I still have a little time before I have to accept that this is the way it's going to be from now on. Here's to hoping the transition is smoother than the build-up! No doubt you'll hear of that, too, in due time.
Love,
Me
But that's not the issue here. The other night while we were celebrating this much awaited success, I got to thinking, which I think we can all agree is hardly ever a good thing.
What started as a mixture of relief and excitement soon turned into a feeling of unadulterated panic.
You see, I've been lucky - I got married without really having to be married. Blame the visa restrictions if you will, but I think they were a blessing in disguise. Sure, it's a financial burden going back and forth all the time, but it's not my money I'm travelling on and I'm not going to pretend I know how hard it is to earn it. All I know is, I rather enjoyed going home every few months to see the folks. It became a sort of break for me from being all wife-ish. A vacation of sorts.
Don't get me wrong, I didn't enjoy being away from him, but living with Mom and Dad trumps everything. Even though by their standards I'm old enough to have had two children by now, they still treat me like their baby when I get home. While that was probably the most embarrassing thing I could think of back when I was still in school, ever since the wedding it's not only been happily welcomed, but practically yearned for.
So now that everything is falling into place, I'm kind of falling apart.
The thought of not seeing them as often as I'm used to is devastating to me. I now have to condition myself to accept that I can't count down to the day I'll have my mom's cooking again - because I don't know when that will be.
It's not that he's a barbaric control freak who won't let me breathe without permission (i.e. a very Indian husband) or anything - I count myself very lucky to have reluctantly agreed to the National Lottery method and still ending up with a wonderful human being to spend my life with - but now that everything is working out it means that if I want to go back I literally have to earn it.
That's not a big deal, you might say. Lots of people have jobs and visit home all the time.
But when you're absolutely broke and haven't had a job in like, ever, it's a frightening prospect.
What if no one will hire me?
What if I suck at what I do?
What if, even if I do get hired, they fire me again and I can't keep a job long enough to earn anything?
What if I've forgotten how to make new friends?
What if my colleagues hate me?
What if I hate them?
What if I hate my job altogether?
I've asked myself these questions several times, and asked him once or twice or twenty times. His answers are sweet and encouraging, but sadly ineffective.
I think I finally understand why people get cold feet before they settle down.
Fortunately I still have a little time before I have to accept that this is the way it's going to be from now on. Here's to hoping the transition is smoother than the build-up! No doubt you'll hear of that, too, in due time.
Love,
Me
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