Stressed!

So today is moving day. I was stressed all of yesterday, really on edge. Steve had taken the 2 younger ones to a party and I took the 2 older girls for horse riding and then waited back at Steve’s house. He didn’t get back until around 9pm. I was tired, the kids were tired and within minutes we were arguing. I was feeling particularly sensitive because I’d been at the house, with all my memories, our accumulated furniture and things, knowing I’d been visibly erased and it wasn’t my ‘home’ anymore.

I snapped, he talked about the house signing again, and I swore at him and he got angry. It was a hopeless and yet predictable scenerio. I left in tears, trying to hide it from J as she was spending the night with me.

This morning there was all this hassle around the hiring of a trailer, which I felt I had to instigate, but I knew dad would complain if he incurred more outgoings and Steve would do the same. I was caught in the middle. In the end, I found an available trailer but Steve’s car didn’t work! – we needed the tow bar. So I called the AA, and then called a truck rental place (truck made more sense but Dad had been keen to use a trailer and do lots of runs – I don’t know why). I negotiated a good deal and sent Steve and my Dad off to get it. They can work out the finances – I’m done!

So I’m feeling pretty anxious. I hate moving anyway, I hate the stress, I am stressed about my finances, I’m stressed about managing this place! I’m stressed that Steve and my dad will be shitty with me. I mean, yes I’m a failure and am I doing enough?? Doesn’t feel like it.

Next week is full on with appointments and school holidays to manage and my parents are still keen for their ‘holiday’ time.

Urg. Back to moving…

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Update

Life has been extremes as I anticipated but it’s gruelling and tiring.

I have looked at lots of rental properties (all awful). I have seen my lawyer, that tore my life apart, and I had an appointment with Work and Income which was extremely demoralising.

I’ve done everything I possibly can, keep applying for work, house hunting, got my benefits sorted, but I still feel like I’m drowning. I love weekends with the kids, they really keep me going.

New medication seems to be helping somewhat, but I’m anxious. I need them to work.

My parents are still doing the best they can, but I think they’re feeling the financial strain and will be happy for me to be sorted.

Two nights ago I got drunk (alone) on cheap plonk. I had very strong urges to self harm, I gave all of my sharp things to my parents- even my medication. It’s the first time I’ve been honest and done something preventative. I guess I’m kind of proud of myself for that. I’m sad that I got to that level. I hope it was just the wine, which is why I avoid drinking too much and why I won’t be doing that again.

Today I’ve finalised some more paperwork for work and income and am trying to rest.

Tomorrow I have therapy and more house viewings.

I’m just keen to get into a routine now. This all feels so temporary but in a scary way. I feel close to a panic attack often, as I have so little control over my future.

Disappointment 

Am I disappointing my family (parents). Yes. 100% Gone are the ‘Europe xmas breaks’ we used to buy them, gone is my capacity to accommodate them in my own home, thus them only needing flights. I am now reliant on them financially and I would say emotionally but they’ve never been very good at that side of things. Every cent my father spends is another black mark against me. He can barely control his irritation. And to be fair, in his retirement, looking after a daughter that’s pushing 40 is a lot to ask.

So far I’ve enquired about numerous properties (competition is hot), made my benefit appointment and a slot to see my therapist, I’m still applying for jobs and may well have secured one – won’t know for sure for a little while. This has been me being proactive and not waiting for things to happen for me.

I’ve had my medication changed and feel much more positive about the regime. It’s just a shame that dr was temporary.

But my parents, they don’t seem to see it. Or maybe it’s all just not happening quickly enough. I still want to spend hours languishing in bed, I still feel low, my anxiety is shocking, sleep isn’t much better – but I’m trying desperately to organise my life.

Tensions are so fraught though, and arguments keep popping out – but you can tell they’re only mild releases of pressure. A big blow up feels imminent.

I feel quite alone in this struggle. I’m enduring another tidal wave of grief and sadness after seeing anything remotely mine in the house been chucked out. I understand Steve was being practical. And it’s just ‘stuff.’ But it’s a stark and shocking reminder that the house is nothing to do with me. That I don’t have a place there. I have no home. Yesterday I broke down and cried. I felt I could have cried for hours to be honest but with the kids around, I kept it hidden. They’re so happy to see me again, I don’t want them to think I’m unhappy.

I’ll have Harry and my daughter here in the motel tonight to sleep. Although it’s not very nice here, I’d like to spend more time with them.

So the struggle is ongoing, I’m really putting everything into putting my life in order. I think my parents just can’t understand me, the situation and the complexities of it. Although I’ve tried my best to explain. Something’s people only get it when they’re going through it themselves.

Last night

So it’s my last night in the U.K. I said goodbye to my sister which was far more difficult than I imagined. I cried all the way back from her place 


We’ve really reconnected and I’m really grateful for that. I’ll miss her terribly.

I’m looking forward to seeing my kids obviously but prior to that I have this god awful flight to contend with. My anxiety is bad anyway but it manages to encompass all of my fears; crowds, claustrophobia, lack of control.

I’m hoping to keep myself sufficiently drugged on both legs of the flight (going via Dubai again). Annoyingly my dad has booked with Emirates that I think is one of the worst airlines, but he’s paying so I can’t complain!

Naturally I’m incredibly anxious about the stress when I arrive in NZ. There’ll be a lot to plan and organise and no doubt fight for. I know I’m far from strong enough, but I can’t put off seeing the kids any longer, I miss them and even though I’m a useless mother, they need me.

I will miss England terribly. I’ve dearly loved my time here. Even with the crappy weather! It’s been fantastic to be amongst my friends and family and connections have become far deeper. I realise I’m very blessed and wish with all my heart I’d not taken it for granted in the past.

If I had a choice I wouldn’t leave, but I have to make good with what I have.

I’ve also found out that a psychiatrist won’t be available until mid October!! That’s a painfully long wait when I’ve been on the wrong medication for so long. I was hoping to get it sorted pretty much as I arrived as it’ll take a while for the meds to work.

So the England chapter closes. I know there’s more I should have done, more people I should have seen, but I’m just glad that I’ve had this experience.

Reality

So my dad has booked the tickets and I’m beyond excited to see my babies again. It’s been too long and much longer than I anticipated. I keep imagining their faces, their warmth, even the way they smell. I won’t be able to get enough of them.

The hurdles that I have to deal with on my return are what are keeping me awake at night. I’m so glad my parents are going to be flying with me and have booked accomodation for us. That’s a huge weight off of my mind. But I have so much to organise in the short time they’re with me, seeing my lawyer, organising my medication and worse still, organising my own accomodation in the long term. I keep having terrible anxiety attacks and I’m barely sleeping. I feel deeply suicidal because I don’t know how I’m going to be strong enough to deal with all the shit, especially how Steve will inevitably treat me. I feel so vulnerable, so alone, so afraid of my uncertain future. But having my parents by my side in the start will help immensely. My focus is on my children and their love and excitement to see me back.

I am both relieved at the booked flights and equally terrified. There is something to be said for the ignorant sanctity I have been indulging in back home. Although I’ve obviously had guilt and uncertainty, the immediate concerns could be thwarted by delay. Now everything is speeding towards me like a jump from a tall building and I know this landing is also going to hurt.

I’m scared of my unknown future. I’m not strong like I used to be. Nothing is the same. And somehow I need to conjure the strength to organise everything in the short time that I have my parents both emotionally and financially. And I worry about the toll on them. They don’t have deep pockets, they’re old and deserve their peace. Not hurtling towards a car crash situation that’s geographically the furthest point away with a large potential financial burden.

I feel like I’ve let everyone down. I’m no longer the daughter to be proud of, the mother to be proud of and the woman to be envied because I had it all. I’m broken and I have nothing. I am nothing and I’m completely without direction. 

Aside from the warmth of my children – that is all I have to cling to.

Stuck!

Everything is beginning to feel too much now. I’m at the mercy of my parents booking a flight, thanks to Steve reneging on sorting my flight out. And they just seem to be taking ages about it! But I don’t feel able to apply pressure because ultimately they’re the ones paying. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m loving being in England, and I’ve gotten close to my sister again which is fantastic. My friends continue to be an amazing source of support. 

But my children need me, and I fear that the longer I’m away, the more damage Steve can do. Plus my medication needs to be reviewed desperately and I can’t get that done here – not through lack of trying.

Yesterday my Mum did an amazing ‘Xmas dinner’ and it was fantastic to have my family around and Mum’s legendary roast dinner! But as the day progressed I felt more aware of how much I miss my children and how awful the real Xmas is going to be if Steve is hell bent on keeping me from the family home. I ended up in floods of hysterical tears and spewing my guts up. Not from alcohol either! I’d just got myself into such a state and I felt so bad for Mum.

Today I’ve spent squirreled away in my bedroom. Everything just feels too much to cope with. I feel caught in this horrible limbo and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. I’ve got no money so I’m stuck, and unwilling to see friends because I can’t pay my way. I’m anxious about my phone bill and the storage costs that need paying. I need to get my benefits sorted in NZ but I can’t do that from here. I’ve been applying for jobs constantly but it’s hard to beat the competition when I’m still in the UK.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m lucky to have my parents looking out for me and for having a home here. But really, it’s time for me to go back and ‘face the music’ and it’s been time for a while, but alas all I can do is wait. It’s adding to this feeling of powerlessness.

In transit

I’m in Dubai now. It’s hot, and I’m sweaty and miserable. I couldn’t get comfy on the flight (I’ve not flown since I got so fat) and the service was pretty abysmal. I’ve flown Emirates back in the 90s and didn’t like it then. But it was part of a special deal. 

Surprisingly I don’t have flu symptoms yet, long haul and flu go together for me.

I’ve just had feelings of dread and regret in the air. I had a long wait in Auckland, and just watched the new series of House of Cards, but I was still in New Zealand so the gravity didn’t really dawn on me. On the flight I knew by each minute I was going further and further from my children. The regret was just as oppressive and added to my claustrophobia. Especially as everyone else had kids on board. The reality also that there will be no more family vacations struck me pretty hard.

So perhaps my intentions were right, reality is already kicking my arse. My marriage is over and there will be no more family holidays. No more S and I managing the kids. I kept having the urge to cry but fought it off. There will be lots of tears when I land. If I ever land. 

I used to love flying. It’s just watching movies and having a waitress! But now it feels painfully long and uncomfortable. My weight is probably a big contributor to that.

You’d think in times of stress I’d lose weight, but instead I get fatter, and I’m not moving much either. The last few weeks have been spent mostly in bed, so the airport transfers alone are making me walk more than I do in a week. 

My anxiety has been really bad. I’ve been shaking and bordering panic attacks. I was a seasoned traveller. I’ve been all over the globe and I used to storm through airports. Now I’m shaking, sweating, my chest is tight from panic. I feel more alone than I ever have. Everything has fallen apart. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m ashamed of what I’ve become. I see more clearly what S sees when he looks at me and I can understand his disgust. I’m nothing like the girl he married. I’m pretty revolting as it goes, and my passion for life is dead.

I owe my children more than this. When did I become so selfish? When did I let myself go so much? When did I stop living? 

I hate myself, I hate what I’ve become. My children deserve so much more.

I hope that I can find my way back to myself. If nothing changes after this UK trip, after all of this discomfort and hellish travel, I don’t know what I’ll do.

I miss my children and the unconditional love they give me. But I need to be better for them.