today didn't start well — i said that it is the worst anniversary we've had for the past 10 years. is it perimenopause? i've found it harder to cope with my sensitivity and she's finding it harder to cope with fatigue. yet we persisted in celebrating even though we are both feeling off. can it still be considered a celebration with we don't feel celebratory? but as the day wore on we started to find that familiar joy in each other again. that joy exists because we carved the space out for it to bubble out, just knowing that it'll be there somewhere, because even if the moods are questionable the foundation is still there. the foundation that we've accumulated for 124 months. being in the same physical space doesn't mean we are together, sometimes togetherness requires a psychological space where we can be truly in each other's presence. this is what our monthly anniversaries gift: the effort to belong in the same psychic space together come rain or shine. today i want to reiterate my gratitude that we are still both alive in the same space, that i can still reach out and hold her precious hand, that i can still enjoy that melodic ring in her voice. ageing has its challenges, that i am not sure how we're going to navigate it, but what matters is we are together now, and that togetherness is something deliberate and cherished.

as we're both women in our mid 40s we're inevitably entering the dreaded phase in our lives when our hormones go out of whack and we start experiencing disturbing symptoms...these days one can search any medical symptom on google and it is definitely a possible perimenopause symptom. declining dental health? perimenopause. insomnia? perimenopause. acid reflux? perimenopause. frozen shoulder? perimenopause. rollercoaster emotions? perimenopause. everything seems to be perimenopause. so tongue in cheek she embroidered "everything is perimenopause" on an old tee. she's always been hilarious, even from the very beginning. today on our 123rd month i suggested we play table tennis and she readily agreed. so for the first time in our lives we rented a table at our national sports facility and played terrible table tennis. we are determined to still learn and experience new things even in perimenopause. i wonder if we can emerge through this unscathed as tempers fray and patience runs thin. one may assume we've been together for so long - how can things just change? to me: it is precisely we've been together this long that's why things can change. it is not easy to bear another person's quirks in such proximity stretching such an extended period of time. these quirks become quirkier as we age...can love endure *two* women in perimenopause at the same time and this sort of grating? hence i'm always grateful we can be still together in our 123rd month. i'm a difficult person to be with and i'm not even sure i can survive myself, and yet here she is (and yes we're still covid cautious because we don't want to endure more disabling symptoms).

a large part of the human experience is growing numb to the experiences that had once made us ridiculously happy…we just tend to take the things we have for granted, like they are a piece of furniture we are entitled to have. i knew this effect intimately, so i sought to live and love in ways in an attempt to circumvent this. i constantly remind myself how life was like for me before i met her, how glad am i that we can be alive together like this in the same time line. i think of people who have lost their partners and i hold on to her tighter. in a human life i think life can be so overwhelming that love is a luxury. it is difficult to love when one is always starving, metaphorically or literally. that fact that we are able to love each other safely, i believe it is truly a luxury. that we’re not running away from bombs, worrying about food, battling against some disease. i know we can’t escape suffering and mortality forever, but even for just one more day, to just giggle in each other’s arms, to eat some good food together, to just simply enjoy each other’s company without too much fuss or worries…just for one more day, one more month — i am severely grateful. because i know impermanence lurks and haunts, and i can never bring myself to take this for granted. 121 months, what a miracle.

this giant moth appeared at our door a few days after you’d passed, @peenutkewlee. @launshae said it could be you, i said it was just a co-incidence. but moths didn’t appear again since, especially one of this size. was it really you? or are moths somewhat drawn to households with grief? it has been two years, and every now and then i wonder why didn’t i get to know you better. i’ve known you for decades, but i don’t think i truly knew you. that is the thing with having depression: it obscures everything and makes me emotionally unavailable to people, even to myself. because of my own darkness i was unable to see you, up to the end. i didn’t get to know you simply because i wasn’t a person capable of knowing someone. i have so many regrets when it comes to you, and they exist because of who we were, what we had, and what we couldn’t have.