Today was hard. I ain’t gonna lie… since we moved to Florida, there have been a lot of hard days. It’s been two weeks today.
The first three days were pretty awesome. The weather was gorgeous, it was all new and exciting, and I really was feeling good. But so many stresses made themselves known in that first week that it pushed Mark’s and my relationship to the limits. A lot of it was put down to me being on my period (which thankfully came a couple days late this month, meaning I didn’t have to deal with it during the long transition from UK to US) and jet lag.
But…. BUT BUT BUT!
There was so much upset, I started to really worry. From finding and buying a car, sorting out our licenses, reclaiming our US residency, dealing with a cranky toddler, finding out our pre-approval for our mortgage was flawed and we’d have to RE-apply for it… The list goes on and on.
If you have spent even a few minutes with me at any point, you’ll know that I HATE waiting. I hate not knowing. I like to be in control, have a plan, know where I stand. I also HAVE to be able to create. I need to draw or paint or craft or cook or change things up. And I can’t do ANY of that right now. I can’t really do anything to this house as we are renting it (and only for a month!). I can’t draw or paint, as all of my supplies are in boxes being held hostage by our moving company (that’s a whole other story!). Same with my craft supplies. And as far as cooking, besides the fact that our kitchen is the size of a matchbox and has the WORST setup in history, we also have to be really careful with money right now, meaning I don’t want to go and buy loads of ingredients for fancy meals we can’t really afford.
Mark is working from home. He bought himself a desk and set up shop in one of the spare rooms. All day long, five days a week, he sits up, listening to internet radio and does his job. He takes calls, skypes with colleagues and comes down every so often to have a quick play with Dexter or get himself coffee or a snack. He starts work at 6 AM each day and is finished by 2 or 3 PM. He works hard and keeps a positive attitude. Once he’s done with his work, he spends most of his time making calls, searching online and trying to sort out the best move for us. Should we rent a place for six months while we find a house to buy? Should we just buy whatever we can get and move in? Should we go stay in Utah for a bit while we wait for the perfect house? Should we put things in storage? Do we fly or drive if we leave? Mark is the one doing all the research and figuring it all out while I…
Well, what do I do? On days like today, I survive on far too little sleep because even when Dexter doesn’t wake up and come in our bed during the night, I find myself in constant pain, waking up often to check the house for signs of break-in, checking that Dexter is warm enough/cool enough, constantly using the toilet, and generally just being unable to relax.
I can’t really keep Dexter to any sort of schedule during the day because often when I’m winding him down, Mark will wake him up by speaking too loudly or coming down for a break. A flushing toilet will be heard throughout the house. There’s just NO down time!
Later, when Dex has had a nap and is in a better mood, I might get a few minutes to sit on the most uncomfortable kitchen chair to read a blog or update my Facebook. My Klout score has plunged rapidly since we arrived here. Woe is me.
I’m grouchy. I’m stressy. I fantasize about running far away. I want to be in Pennsylvania with my family, but I can’t bear the thought of being without Mark. I’ve offered to give up the Florida dream and just move back to Utah, as then we’d at least be around HIS family and friends, and we could move into one of the houses he owns…
Late this afternoon, it all got to be too much. Mark DARED to offer to take us all out to dinner, and I blatantly refused. When he sweetly tried to persuade me, I stomped off barefoot into the incessant rain (yes, another let down of Florida – other than the first three days, it has been nothing but pouring rain!) and got drenched. When I came to my senses and returned home, I ran up the stairs, into the spare room, grabbed a pillow and locked myself into the closet.
I closed my eyes, huddled in a corner, surrounded by suitcases and boxes, and I CRIED. I RAGED. I SCREAMED (all silently, of course). And I PRAYED.
For the first time in a LONG time, I prayed. I begged for help. I truly wanted god to hear my heart and find a way to help me. Because right now, I feel incapable of helping myself.
After that, I don’t remember. I woke up a while later, and as I made my escape from the closet, I met Mark coming up the stairs. He asked where I’d been, and I admitted I’d been holed up in the closet.
A few minutes later, the three of us were in the car on our way out to dinner. And I felt a little bit lighter.
I know that tomorrow will be more of the same. I’ll find stress in every situation and I will keep all that rage inside until the next opportunity to let it out quietly. Maybe this time I can let it escape a little at a time, like a leaky balloon… Surely that would be better than the giant POP when the balloon can’t take any more?
I feel so lost right now, and all I can hope is that something comes along soon to help us make a decision one way or another. I just want to know…