… And the house is quiet again.

The holiday season started with my closest sister, Mammy, and her husband coming home. Then, my oldest sister and her husband and kid came home with my two-year older sister. We spent Christmas without two of my sisters (one is in Canada and the other in Cebu because of work). Then by New Year, only one sister was missing. The house was noisy (mostly because my nephew likes to shout). The house appeared so lively.

The holiday season is over. Classes are coming back. My sisters and brothers-in-law have left one by one. Today, my closest sister and her husband are the last to head back to Cebu. Like always, I have this deep feeling of sadness. When I was on my way out of grade school, I saw my sisters leave one by one, heading to Cebu (my mother’s home province) to find fortune. They got jobs alright. They have remained there, mostly. By the time I finished high school, I was left here with my mother (who refuses to let me live alone). While I understood they needed to leave as there are better job opportunities there than here in our home province, I always had this subtle feeling of sadness every time one of them left. See, I grew up in a home where it was packed and deafening, and while I had always been an introvert and needed my own time to be alone, in the background were the loud chatters and banter of my sisters. I can say I adjusted quite fine with the gradual silence. But sometimes, I admit to actually searching for that fussy home. I admit I miss those nights where the eight of us stayed in the living room watching the hottest television drama. I miss the times we argued over how one had more Coke in their glass. I miss the fights over the remote or the couch. One time I found myself in the quiet living room, wondering of the time that has passed by. The changes were scary. The changes hurt. While I have enjoyed the “privileges” of being the only child at home (i.e. the internet is all mine, no one bothering me), I’ve had this sense of abandonment at the back of my mind. As I have been trying to figure out the root cause of my depression, I am afraid that the feeling of abandonment has caused it. It’s not like I have been totally abandoned by my family. They call or text to see how I’m doing. They take care of me in different ways even when they are far away. And yet I get this feeling that I have been left out, that I have been left behind. I’ve always told myself that I didn’t need people around me, that I’m fine alone. But I hate to confess that I do, sometimes, need people. Not even in the sense that they keep chatting with me, just being there beside me alone is fine. Maybe the last psychiatrist I met was right, maybe I have issues of family members leaving. Maybe the issue is with the feeling of abandonment. Maybe all this time the reason I have been so depressed because I felt like an abandoned home.

… And the house feels lonely again.


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