The Reality of Separation Anxiety

It's the night before I finally leave the place where I've lived for the past 21 years.

No biggie, really. After all, I've always wanted to leave since college, haven't I? I've been waiting for far too long, haven't I? Five years too long. It's about time I pack my bags, turn my back, and board that bus.

Apparently, it's not gonna be that easy.

Now, as I try to lie down on my bed, trying to immerse myself in the reality of having to leave this place, my emotions--in all its fickle wickedness--began to play with me. Suddenly, all of my memories piled up, continuously playing in my head, creating a sappy intersection between my ego and my subconscious.




Sleep seems not to dare interrupt this painful harrowing. I suddenly thought of all the things I'm gonna miss in this sorry excuse for a bedroom--all  the mundane things that I haughtily repudiated for being so, well, mundane in every sense of the word. The stash of unused notebooks. The dysfunctional wall-clock. The anime stickers on the wall. Suddenly, they became objects worthy of my attachment. Suddenly, leaving them behind became the hardest thing to do. Suddenly, I couldn't bear the thought of waking up for the next few years without the sight of these 'mundane' things.

As I cannot contain my jumpiness, I tried to  shake it off by sauntering the small interior of our shack of a house. Big mistake. Suddenly, every corner showed a younger version of myself involved and absorbed in all the whims and caprices of youth. Well, I don't see why not. All important milestones in my life happened in this very building. Now, I begin to see the beauty behind the fading wall paints and the menacing ceiling cracks. What I've always viewed as ugly and rundown and distasteful suddenly became unique and irreplaceable and priceless. Suddenly, our house became the most beautiful place in the world. Suddenly, it became a palace. Suddenly, not living here was the most dreadful possibility I had to contend with.

The little walk was a terrible idea. When I went back to our bedroom, I saw that my brother was already sound asleep at the upper bunk of our double-deck. Just a few hours ago, I told him he could take my bunk when I'm already gone. He didn't respond. I took that as an affirmative response. Gee. I wonder if he will miss me. I wonder if my entire family will miss me. My parents, my 'lil bro and 'lil sister, my grandmother, our house help. Will they miss me as much as I will miss them? Suddenly, I remember all the family occasions that I will be missing. Suddenly, I recalled all my promises that remain unkept. Suddenly, I feel guilty for leaving them here. Suddenly, I want to spend some more time with them. Laugh with them more. Sing with them more.

I never thought "separation anxiety" was this real. I've always seen it as a desperate excuse for the overly-attached. Somehow, however, experiencing it first-hand became a contention in itself. Okay, life. You win. I guess. So leaving isn't really that easy after all.

I may accede. That doesn't mean I'll back down, however.

I remind myself to man up. "Take this impending separation as a challenge," I tell myself. "You're never going to grow up if you don't break free," I tell myself. "It's about time you live life away from this place, on your own, in your own design, at your own call," I tell myself.

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Oops. Sorry. A tear just rolled from my eye.
No, it's okay. I'm totally cool.
Really. Just. Just.

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