Are things at home better or worse?
I don’t know.
But I wish I knew. And I mean the kind of knowing where your whole body, mind and soul knows. Where doubt doesn’t exist on any level.
But I don’t and I can feel my heart break a little more with each thought I have about it.
I was really hoping that our week holiday would be perfect but I don’t think it was.
I cried everyday. I cried in the bathroom. I hung the washing out with tears streaming down my face. Just the thought of being so unsure about our future would make me well up.
What was wrong with me? Walking around like that – that is so unlike me it really is. As I said earlier, it was our 2 year anniversary whilst we were out there and I just couldn’t shake this god awful feeling that something (everything) was wrong and that he and I were over. I took the fact that we didn’t get our anniversary dinner as a sign. By the end of our week, I was an emotional wreck and a tiny part of me was glad to come home.
We spent lots of time talking. Actually, I spent a lot of time talking (or wailing through the tears) and he told me we’re fine. But I couldn’t help but think that what he said was different to what he felt. I was a walking shadow of myself. I felt really lonely out there and my confidence hit rock bottom. I even looked into booking the ferry and going home with my daughter.
Everyone was asking me if I had a nice time away and I was saying this like ‘Yeah, oh my gosh, it was so nice. So relaxing’. Not 100% accurate. I was tired, spent most of it crying and to top it all off my daughter went ape with a purple wax craying all over the place. Up my mother-in-laws cream walls, on the shutters, on the tiled floor – even on the outside walls!
Whilst I applaud her creativity, I do not want to have to spend my days trying to scrub off wax craying whilst trying not to take off the bloody wallpaper. Don’t have kids – you need eyes in the back of your head!
So that brings us nicely up to now. Today.
We spent Bank Holiday Monday decorating one of the rooms in our flat. We intend to put the flat up for sale. The idea is that once its sold, we rent somewhere for a while. Somewhere with a garden. My daughter needs a garden.
But my head taunts my heart with jibes that as soon as the flat is sold, there’ll be no rented accommodation. There’ll be no us. No sign of the future that I want.