So I’m facing something this fortnight that is in my top 5 of life’s most painful must-dos. Others seem to manage it quite well. Some even live to tell the tale while facing it in a foreign country while 9 months pregnant and a toddler in tow.
But no, not me.
I’m a weakling. This thing takes so much thought, effort, and quite often – pain.
It can rattle me to my core of vulnerability. I lie awake at night with questions:
“How am I going to make this work? How the bloody hell am I going to get though this?”
In the past when a friend informs me that they are facing this life change, I cringe. My stomach drops.
I want to back away slowly, while offering the usual pitiful condolences that are called for in times like these – pitiful because really, there is nothing to say to help ease the pain:
“What a terrible thing to have to face when life was rolling on so well, and you were so comfy. Good luck my dear friend. See you on the other side”…
I sometimes take around a ready-made meal or two. God knows they’ll be needing it.
I sometimes also offer a spare pair of hands. But only if they are a really really close friend.
If they aren’t – they will not see me. They will not hear from me. I will wait a good few weeks just to make sure they are through the thick of it and ready to get back into life.
And I wouldn’t expect any of my friends to stick around either. No friend should have to help carry this burden.
Or my fridge.
Wish me luck my dear sorellas.
It’s moving house day.
I find that hiding in a packing box for a while now and then can help reduce anxiety.
What are your tips for surviving moving house?
P.S Renting’s a bitch.