I'm running the risk of 'over blogging' (if there is such a thing) but in keeping to my primary function of using this site for myself I have to write right now as it's 4.45am and my brain in whirring and I think getting things out in words will help me.
I think the thing is, and I was trying to explain this to Mr D last night, I think the thing about doing this move sober is that for me all the emotion associated with it is way more amplified than it would be before. It's like someone's put 'relocation headphones' on me and has turned the fucking volume up to one million decibels (if there is such a thing, and sorry about swearing but I just want to swear here ok).
And normal drinkers or non-drinkers or heavy drinkers don't get this because they're used to whatever their habit is so their emotional volume level is sitting more comfortably where they're used to. Only people who used heavily then took it clean away know what this is like. I'm still relatively newly sober (7 1/2 months) so my volume is peaking and I"m sure it slowly be turned down as I get used to living without liquid anesthesia.
My eyelids are swollen because yesterday I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed huge gut wrenching sobs all the way home from the University where I'd just told them I needed to put my MA on hold for 3 months and continue via distance learning from August.
It's not that the Uni thing was particularly gut-wrenching, it was also that I was supposed to be rushing home from that meeting and then taking my 5 year old round the road for a sleep-over but every time I thought yesterday about telling my friend there that we're moving I felt like crying. This woman is the most awesome lovely strong kind and amazing friend that I have met since we've been here and for some reason saying goodbye to her is really really going to hurt. We don't see each other all the time because she is back at work now but she is very very special.
So I had texted Mr D from the corridor outside my supervisors office asking could he please take our boy round and tell my friend that we are going because I was too emotional to do it (which he understood and did) and then I got through my meeting and walked out the door and basically lost it and spent the next 2 hours crying.
It was absolute woe-is-me grief, to be perfectly frank I don't want to be doing any of this. I don't want to be putting my MA on hold and I don't want to be crying in front of all my friends and I don't want to have to say goodbye to my neighbours and I don't want to be looking for a house to rent in the new city and I don't want to get 3 fucking written quotes for Mr D's firm to approve the furniture removal company and I don't want to be organising gardeners and cleaners and painters and builders to get our house ready for sale and I don't want to deal with real estate agents again and I don't want to talk to schools and help my boys with their nerves about moving and I just don't want to do any of this because I am really really happy here.
And all of this emotional pain is much more keenly felt because I've radically changed my lifestyle.
So FUCK!! Right I have to fucking snap out of this and dig deep and be smart and fine and cool. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.
Do yoga poses at night to relax. Burn scented candle lots. Buy lots of treaty magazines. Think about friends in the new city who are going to be so happy to see us. Think about the fact that Mr D said last night that we're going to rent a really treaty posh house for the interim to make the move more palatable (yes!). Think about how great it is I've lost weight. Think about how nobody has died or gotten cancer. Think that this is hard and emotional but totally do-able. Think about how living in an emotionally real way is the best way to live. Think about how the new job is the best job in the world for Mr D and he is like a new man standing tall in his shoes again because the old job was so wrong. Think about how once all the hard work and sadness is over there will be a lot of fun and excitement to look forward to.
Love, Mrs D xxx
