From Hug-Addict to Phone-Call Zombie: My Long-Distance Drama
How do you live without the person who’s basically become your human oxygen tank?
Every little thing in life somehow ties back to him.
He’s the first opinion I seek on everything—from dinner plans to whether I
should splurge on another overpriced candle. No, this doesn’t mean I’ve lost my
individuality (hello, I’m still the queen of my chaos), it just means his
input feels essential, like seasoning on fries. Can you eat plain fries? Yes.
Do you want to? Absolutely not.
His daily hugs, those random cuddles, his annoying-but-cute
gestures that somehow manage to pull a smile even on the worst days—those are
now part of my emotional DNA. And now, I’m expected to survive without any of
that. I mean, sure, we have video calls and good ol’ WhatsApp voice notes, but
let’s be real—it’s like replacing a warm brownie with a low-fat protein bar.
Meh.
Yes, I made the adult decision to move to a different
country for a fab new opportunity (go me!) and I’m genuinely excited.
But also? I reserve every right to rant about the horror movie that is
long-distance relationships. The stomach-drop feeling is real, especially when
I start counting the “lasts.” Last weekend was the “last weekend just the two
of us.” Now, it’s guests and family galore until I leave. Every drive, every
walk turned into: “This is the last time we’re doing this like this.” Dramatic?
100%. Avoidable? Not at all.
One of my closest friends said something wise (ugh, I hate
when they do that): It’s amazing that we love our partners so deeply, but we
should still put ourselves first when it comes to personal growth. And
she’s absolutely right. That’s why I’m doing this. For me. But also I’m allowed
to feel like a clingy koala being pried off her favorite tree.
It’s weird, it’s jittery, and frankly, a bit scary. I do
enjoy my alone time, love the peace and even the occasional loneliness. But
thinking about forced solitude without choice, after being practically
surgically attached to my partner for years? Whole different game.
Maybe I’ll be fine once I’m actually living it. Maybe I’ll
surprise myself. Maybe a few months down the line, we’ll laugh at how
melodramatic we were. Or maybe not. But today, this is my reality: the jitters,
the pre-goodbye gloom, the emotional drama.
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