It’s one of those moments when everything is hard, or seems harder.
The uncertainty is causing much anxiety. It’s hard to sleep and when I do, my mind is on overdrive.
Are we moving? Are we going to be okay? Are we going interstate? For how long? Three years? Forever?
At least now I’m sure we’re not going to London. Or I think I’m sure.
I’m exhausted. I want to run away. To disappear. To just be in a cave somewhere and never come out.
I’m a worse mother because of all this. I’m always thinking. Researching. I can’t just be. I can’t enjoy the moment.
I’m flexible and I’m lucky my job is flexible too. I know I can adapt even if we end up in a tiny town somewhere in woopwoop. It’s not where we are going. It’s the vagueness of things, which means I can’t plan. It’s not being able to help speed up the process, or control the outcome.
I’ve written down things I could do short of doing an actual diagram with arrows of ‘ifs’ and ‘thens’. I guess it’s that side of me again – the one that wants to be in control all the time, or contribute to the process. When it’s all beyond what I can do, it irritates me and makes me anxious.
Wherever we end up though, I’m sure it’s for the right reasons.
But for now, I really really want to take up drinking again.