To the last hundred days (old revived post)

I wrote this in August 2019. Had it saved and never finished it. And I'm not going to finish it, I'm going to just hit publish. Because unfinished is sometimes how I feel.

A lot can happen in a hundred days. 

I could get married. 

I could uproot my whole existence and decide to start it in a brand new state 800 miles away, with a brand new being.

I could become a person who starts drifting to sleep at 11pm, when at one point I was a night owl.

But.

I couldn't tell you why I blast my music while driving home from the hospital, and listen to Cornelia street and remember H. 

I couldn't tell you because I don't know. It's not like I miss him. There was no "him". There was the figment of him, the belief that he was someone good and pure, when in reality he was just like all the others. I feel nothing. I just like the nostalgic feeling of heartbreak sometimes. Maybe to remember what I've lost? Or simply to relish in how far I've come.
I wish I could cook. I feel so guilty coming home every night with food from the hospital for me and the husband, knowing that I've gained 10 pounds and it's not due to the wedding, it's due to gross hospital food. Plus at one point you tend to start thinking about where your food comes from. And you just want to make your own. Simple. We have an Instant Pot. I found a blog with desi Instant Pot recipes. I will make some.
Everything I've worked for is finally here, and I'm finally living it. And I don't mind waking up at 4 in the morning, or coming back at times when the sky is dark, meaning I never saw the light that day. The hours pass by so fast, it's unreal and amazing at the same time. I just wish there were more hours in the day so I wouldn't have to plan my days off like a military schedule.
The husband. Known him for nearly three years. Living with him is a whole new ball game. It's taking its time. It's learning, and unlearning, and relearning. It's all new.

Of tide and time.

When somebody tells you that your life can change in a moment, and all previous feelings you've had before can calm down with time, believe it. 

I opened up this journal for the first time in a very long while and read previous posts- and it feels like a past life. I don't remember feeling the ways I mentioned. I see very clearly now how me and H had a hollowed-out relationship, basically friends with deep feelings if you will. How I had to rearrange everything, my very soul to fit into his schedule, his lack of communication, everything. Reading all those old posts in succession put in into perspective. But that's neither here nor there. I haven't spoken to him directly in four years. 

It's a new H now. Let's call him HQ. And we're married. what? It's been 1.5 years. See what I mean by time and life changing in a moment? Who knows, maybe this blog might become the grievance committee for his wrongdoings. Or it may be a marriage experience journal. My wedding was everything I wanted it to be. Royal, dark, gold, Mughal-esque. That's a little unfair though. He is miles ahead of what H was. And in a lot of other ways, miles behind. I'll talk about that some other time. 

I wrote in another post about doing USMLE and "trying to kick residency ass" (God I thought I was so cool) well, I'm kicking it. A year and a half into it already. It feels like a dream at times, to finally be doing what I've been planning for the past 3 years. And now that I'm in it, I'm so consumed by it that I forget to be grateful at times. I stop in the hallways of my hospital and times and think wait. this is it. i'm in it. my career. my life. I still definitely struggle with keeping myself present but I'm trying. 

I'm sitting on my comfy bed, in a beautiful tropical state, working for a university program...this is eons and eras away from where I was just 5 years ago. H is still where he is. A Hajj travel agent I think. And also a voice artist for some Instagrammer. I'm amused. 

This post is probably lacking some poise and wisdom. I'm just coming back to terms with my writing side. Blogging is slightly harder when you're in a happier place. I could flow more easily when I was sad. 

Until then, here's a glimpse of new life.