Too far away

I am getting too old for long-distance relationships.

I live 40 minutes from DD, two hours from my sister, my parents, my Newcastle friends and the youngest and a whole state away from the eldest.

I feel exhausted just thinking about all the driving – and flying – that’s involved in staying connected with everyone.

And it goes up a notch during the festive season.

Yesterday a friend invited me to a Christmas party in Newcastle and panic rose inside me.

My working weeks are so busy that all I want to do on weekends is float in the ocean at Bilgola Beach and sip pink wine on DD’s deck.

We don’t often see each other during the week, so the weekends feel precious.

But my calendar – and my conscience – tells me there is no time to relax. It’s been too long since I visited my dad and my daughter. I also need to go to a friends’ wedding anniversary, fly to Melbourne for DD’s work Christmas party and head to Newcastle TWICE the week after that …

I’m finding the Sydney-Newcastle commute exhausting in my late 50s, especially when I knock it over in the same day so I can get back to the dogs.

DD usually doesn’t come with me on the Newie trips because he’s minding the dogs, who get car sick. (And also can’t be trusted not to wee on people’s table legs when I’m not looking.)

You should have seen Bilbo shaking with terror last night, one paw in the air, when he knew he was being bundled into the car to return to the real world.

I know exactly how you feel mate.

There is no easy place to base myself to ease the travel pressure. Everywhere is too far away from everywhere else.

If I lived in Newcastle I would be two hours away from my Sydney friends, DD and work … and even further away from the kids.

No easy answers. And so much guilt about the people I don’t have time to see.

I find myself envying the people at my high school reunion who decided to stay in Newcastle, close to their family and friends.

I couldn’t wait to leave when I was 21, now I dream about going back and living a more peaceful and connected life.

Mind you, that fantasy is partially fuelled by the fact I can’t afford to live closer to DD on the Northern Beaches.

Sydney property prices are stupid.

The city has been declared the second-worst place for housing affordability in THE WORLD, trailing only behind Hong Kong. 

OK, better haul my weary body out of bed, I’m due at the ICC Sydney at 8am for a Visitor Economy Forum. Many notes to take, many hands to shake.

Song of the day: Tracy Chapman “Fast car”