Break-up and make-up, and Father's Day.
Friday, 06.17.2016 - 7:01 pm.

Oh, boy, I let nearly two weeks go by without updating. It could be that I don't have much to tell, or that I do but I don't want to talk about it. It's the latter so here it goes.

Last week, Thursday, I think, I said something insensitive to Andrew and he got mad. Like, he did not sleep in our bed and on Friday he went to the university without me. And we also each returned home on our own. On Friday night he kind of got close to me again, but I didn't have a chance to apologize until Saturday.

I was upset over his restraint-binge eating cycle, which is not as dramatic as that label sounds. But I dislike that pattern of his -which is mostly gone, as he's been building new, healthier habits- and I got mad when I realized he'd eaten an entire baguette that evening, that was supposed to be for him, my nephew and I, after preparing a sad salad for the both of us for lunch. Those days I'd felt he'd been so restrictive, and salads on their own frustrate me and leave me hungry; but I was letting him prepare all lunches because he wasn't eating my lunches anyway. So I was frustrated, and I was looking forward to prepare that baguette for the three of us. So I was indeed upset. But my comment was too strong and he got really mad.

I do think he went overboard with not talking to me for a day and leaving me behind. I always feel he, unconsciously, punishes me when he asks me what's wrong and I am honest, and when what's wrong has to do with him. He doesn't get mad or stops talking to me to "punish" me, I know, he's not like that. He gets mad because he feels attacked, and I know this time my comment really stung. I could have kept quiet, too, because it wasn't something that would keep me mad for long; after an hour, I was ready to apologize.

Anyway, I apologized eventually, and he told me how he felt and why he got so mad and hurt about what I said, and everything's back to normal. Which is a wonderful state of things, he's a very loving, lovable guy. Also, I've been finding him more handsome than usual, and, you know, yay, love.

It was Andrew's birthday two days ago, on Wednesday. I gave him a record player and fluffy slippers, and I took him and my nephew out for breakfast. He was so happy. And he made his own birthday cake from scratch.

Other updates: my like-dislike relationship with the kid (he'd snap at me if he found out I called him kid) from the PhD program, as I mentioned in my last entry. We have good times, too, really. We went for coffee last week and he was very happy because it was a warm, sunny day. It's a good exercise for me to get along with people who think so differently from me, and also are articulated and respectful -mostly- with their arguments. On paper I say it's fine, however, do I have to listen to his arguments to leave the EU? I can't with the veiled islamophobia and rejection of refugees, as if they were not people who had productive lives back in their home countries, and who would do anything to have their lives back.

Funny, my dad, mom and four siblings were once refugees. They fled our home country for a few months to Panama because my dad was getting death threats from the government. My dad recalls those days with sadness but with the enormous comfort that he, my mom and their kids were together. Even thought they couldn't afford dinner for the adults and my parents couldn't get my siblings any Christmas presents. My dad tells me of the day he came down from the one-bedroom apartment they all shared and he saw the newspapers, saying that John Lennon had been murdered. That's his story for me.

Today's Father's Day in my home country, by the way. I sent my dad a card and I will give him a call. I feel so fortunate for having my parents alive and in fairly good health for their age (my dad turns 80 in September!). At the same time, I feel so detached but I know that it's because I can't afford getting emotional. It's painful, being so far away from my parents as they're aging, but it's no use facing this pain. It's very basic and there's nothing I can do about it, other than, as Oliver Sacks says, "lead a fairly happy and useful life, keeping in touch with [them], and seeing [them] when I can". Good old Dr. Sacks.

I've majorly digressed. I could add other updates but this is good for now, isn't it? Bye!

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