I don’t want to pack up my house. I’m sick of it. I want to curl up in a ball and curse the world instead.
Don’t worry, it’s a passing phase. I’ll be all sweetness and light once this shite fight is over. I am giddy 90% of the time, trust me.
But right now, alone in a house full of boxes and crap that hasn’t been shoved into boxes yet, I feel a little bit blah.
Through it all, the amazing thing I continue to learn from this experience is how much friends care. Friends have been incredible.
In my darker moments last night, two women reached out.
One texted me saying: “you are allowed to feel sad, mad, confused, out of control, scared and whatever else …”
The other – a mate from long ago who has come back into my life, bless her – stayed on the phone with me for ages. We talked and laughed and it took the panic away. Sure, it came back and hit me again afterwards, but for those 90 minutes on the phone, I felt loved and valued.
I will get through the next few days. I will.
But right now, it’s an awful lot to process.
Song of the day: Donna Summer “I feel love”