Tuesday

Had a breakdown today in Sally’s office.  She was amazingly patient and let me bawl my eyes out and try to explain how I feel like the entire world is just on top of me right now and I don’t know what to do about it.  During the part of the conversation where she tried to figure out why M wasn’t working to try and ease the pressure on me, I explained that we were "thinking about" moving back to the US this year.  I had thought that she would be all against the idea, particularly at this point in my degree, but she wasn’t.  She was very supportive and understood that this is what we want and that we’ve been unhappy during our time here.  She said, if that’s what you think will make you happy, then do it.  There’s no point sitting here miserable and thinking about the what ifs.  And if you get there and you’re unhappy there, too, then at least you tried.  And fuck, she is absolutely right.  I felt infinitely better after speaking with her, and letting out this secret that I am hiding from everyone at work.  Think about it – I spend about 50 hours a week in that office, and every one of those hours I am making sure I don’t let on that I am waiting on my visa interview, that I am taking boxes home so I can ship my stuff to the US, that I am hoarding my annual leave in readiness for my resignation, that I am feeling sad about shipping M and Ernie off to the US in a matter of weeks, that I am moving back to my mother’s house because I don’t want to sign a lease because I AM MOVING TO THE US…. It’s exhausting. 

M and I went out to the supermarket tonight.  I was so effing anxious the whole time.  Teary and sweaty and trying to take deep breaths. Fug this shit. Fug it. 

We’re discussing our plans for finishing up with this apartment.  We need to give notice, and next week would be ideal, but we need confirmation that this room at mother’s house is finished, which is due to occur at the end of next week.  We will probably move on the weekend of 22/23 June.  You guys, that is SO SOON!  Today I sat and stared at my calendar for half the day.  Not this weekend, not the next, BUT THE NEXT.  

We have so much work to do.  And so many variables, like getting rid of certain items like the fridge (free to a good home), couch and coffee table and tv (make me an offer) and the washing machine (some money please).  The current plan is this (and I say current because we keep chopping and changing it to try and figure out the best approach): 

Move the bedroom furniture, bookcase and one large chest/cabinet thing to mother’s house on the weekend of 22/23 June.  The room we are moving into will fit the bed, two night tables, and the book case will smother us in there.  The chest/cabinet will have to go under the balcony with a cover on it, or possibly into the extension with my brother if he has room for it. 

I will drop M back at the apartment on the days I am working and he will work on cleaning, sorting and packing.  I will come over in the evenings and we will fill the car with loads of clothing, boxes, things to ship.  

Once the apartment is in a presentable state (it is a disaster while we try to pack) we can list our stuff for free or very low prices and allow people to come into the apartment to collect things.  We are considering wheeling our washing machine down to the communal wash room and tucking it into a corner.  

Do a final clean of the apartment, get the landlord to do the final inspection, hand back the keys, and GTFO.  I repeat: GTFO. 

It is a long weekend this weekend and M has just told me that he is ready to "get serious" about packing and shipping.  Oh, sweet relief!  I am certainly someone who is motivated by action, whereas he is someone who plans carefully before acting.  Needless to say, we have had differing opinions on how to organise this whole move!  But I am ready.  I am so happy that he said that, and I am READY to see some action in here.  I need to see something happen, because I am really not coping right now.

Like, really.  I am a fucking mess.  I’ve lost even more weight, and while it’s a nice feeling to not be a chunky little nugget any more, I know it’s not a healthy way to lose weight and that I’ll likely gain it right back once I am not so wound up and anxious.  I have basically no appetite, I am smoking far too much, I can’t sleep, and every little noise from next door makes me jump out of my skin.  I’m still parking my car miles away from the apartment, and feeling like a total dickhead every time I wander up to my car.  

But I keep watching that calendar and am pleased to report that we are already FOUR whole days into June.  And today is almost over.