when the laughter has ceased

I took a walk at Mission Creek a few kilometers from the house. Normally I would run. But after injuring my knee for running at pavements and trails last year I am not risking injuring it again this year. I noticed though that walking has a way of purging my thoughts... emptying my mind of every thing and being able to see other things such as the beauty of the coming spring. Unlike running, walking teaches me to relax and take the time to appreciate my surroundings rather than the focus and determination to up my ante and run longer than the last.

The past few days I have been confused by the emotional state in the house. It is really not easy dealing with a woman even if I’m a woman myself. And five of us living in one house can be somewhat chaotic at times. We’ve been through moments of so much joy and laughter together as well as frustration over each other’s personalities and moods and complete isolation from one another.

The hardest, I guess, for us to deal with is when one of us slips in depression or a state of emotional blackhole. I’ve seen it happen last year. I’ve seen it happen to me. Despite the immense sadness I felt I was observing them wanting to reach out to me but checking themselves before knocking at my door and retreating. I’ve seen the look of worry in my face as I go through the motions of living but emptiness reflected in my eyes. I’ve seen them wanting to shake me off my reverie but not attempting to touch me. One would think that because we are women, we speak the same language and given we have the same culture we would know what to say. But the truth is we don’t. Our ability to communicate to each other are hindered by our upbringing, likes, dislikes, preferences, ability to cope, and bajillions of other factors. Universally though, we understand that when situations in our life bring one of us down it’s best to keep our mouth shut, wait til the person is ready to talk and then listen only when she talks.

And so that is the situation now in Big Brother’s House. One of us is nursing a broken heart after being engaged for a long time with her boyfriend. She had plans of going home to the Philippines this year and get married with him and then petition him so he can move here with her. That was the plan. It was a great plan. It was a plan full of hope and promise.

As soon as I found out I wanted to tell her I completely understand what she feels. I completely understand how a long distance relationship can fizzle out. I completely understand how she can wonder why is she still alive when it seems her heart has stopped beating already. But I know if I do this, I don’t understand and I have forgotten what it felt like. Because at the time it happened to me I retreated and no words of sympathy could ease the pain or make me recover faster. The more my friends talked about it the more pain I felt and the only solace I could get was when I would go home and be alone.

Maybe the best way to help her too is by giving her space. It would seem that I don’t care as I continue to do whatever I am doing - working, going out, drinking with our other friends, shopping, watching movies or TV, and singing in the shower - while one of us is in pain. But if one breaks down because she experiences so much pain in her heart breaking down with her won’t fix things. So I’ll do “normal” things hoping that she will be able to recover sooner, praying to the Almighty that she will be given strength and hope.

Still, I wish I can do more for her. I wish I can be a better friend to her. I wish I can show her she is not alone in her pain. And I think I could. I could do something appropriate and do it without annoying her.