Finding Peace in my New Space

Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of nowhere, and sometimes in the middle of nowhere, you find yourself. 

I do not know who wrote this. I remember watching a movie on chaos -- chaos, then peace. Nowhere in the middle or middle of nowhere, both seem apply to me, but I find peace, and in peace, I find myself.

Forty days ago, I moved into my new room. After nearly eight (8) years in my old landlady’s two (2)  flats, it feels strange — like breaking in a new pair of shoes. There’s a mix of excitement and awkwardness, but mostly, it’s about learning to adjust -- again (I thought I am used to it).

My young landlord and his wife? Incredibly kind. They check in on tenants and actually listen when we need something. My flatmates are polite and easy to live with. There’s no laundry timetable, no silly fights over washing time. I can wash clothes anytime, day or night — Monday to Sunday. I love that, because it means no smelly pile of clothes waiting for “my turn.” The only catch? No balcony. Clothes dry inside the room, which isn’t great for the lungs or the view, but we make do.

The kitchen here is smaller than my old one, but it works. We give each other space, which is rare in shared living. I usually order foods from outside anyway — too busy most days to cook — though I feel bad when my usual delivery guys arrive sweating after riding all the way here.

My room has a loft, but I can’t sleep up there because of my weight and my recurring calf pains. No bunk bed either, so I use a mattress on the floor. It’s not really great for my hips and knees, but it does let me sneak in a few stretches and knee bends. Small victories, right?

Then there’s the cold. My flatmates in the other room control the A/C, and 21°C is their happy place. Mine? Not so much. Even after asking for an adjustment, it’s still freezing. So, every day, I step outside just to feel the sun — at least 1,500 steps toward my 6,000-step goal.

One thing I truly appreciate: every room has its own bathroom. With my diabetes and incontinence, it’s a blessing. During the day, it’s mine alone since I’m often the only one home. There are other two (2) ladies in different rooms on a work-from-home mode, too. 

I should say that it is very peaceful here. Many days too peaceful. The silence can be deafening at certain points, and that’s when I miss my family the most — especially my late mother. I never got to care for her in her last days, never got to say goodbye. That still hurts deeply -- I still cannot move on 100% thinking of that.

There are still boxes I haven’t unpacked, but the basics are set. I passionately make the most of my days, determined not to depend on my children when I still can work, as long as there are at least enough blessings from above. They have their own battles to fight. At nearly 60, I’ve given everything over to God, asking Him to restore what I’ve lost and prepare me for my retirement years.

Life in the Middle East isn’t simple these days. Things feel uncertain. My youngest child tells me I have no reason to stay -- this stresses me beyond measure sometimes. But compared to the political mess back home, I feel safer here. Opportunities may be small for vulnerable people like me, but they’re still here — even for someone my age. But this is not my home before my final resting place. Definitely I will go back home in the very near future.

Amidst chaos, I found freedom, by God's grace and mercy. In my freedom, I found peace. Amidst peace, I found myself.

And for now, that’s enough.

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