On the darkest days an innocent misunderstanding cannot be laughed off, because it reminds you that you are the foreigner and you did not understand and they will always know things you don’t.
On the darkest days all decisions seem futile, from choosing a frame to go on the wall to picking a school for your child. Because what’s the point in making a permanent mark when you might be moving on in a matter of months?
On the darkest days no amount of chitchat with the friendly lady at the bakery or with the other mum from nursery makes up for not having someone you can just sit with in companionable silence, safe in the knowledge they’ve known you for so long you don’t need to speak.
On the darkest days your child asks to visit his grandparents, and you don’t know whether your heart can take having to say “no my love, we can’t” for the 20th time that week.
On the darkest days you just want to eat the same foods, have the same habits, and drum to the same beat as everyone around you, despite having felt proud of your stinky tea with milk and your improbably early dinners the day before.
On the darkest days you feel unreasonably, disproportionately jealous of anyone who’s mum pops in to do the laundry or cook dinner on an ordinary weekday, despite knowing you’d never ask her to do these things even she you lived round the corner.
On the darkest days you ache for “home”, until you remember you've moved so many times the very concept has faded to something undefinable, and you ache even more.
On the darkest days you look at your partner and will them to be simultaneously strong and fragile: don’t crack because I won’t be able to cope if you do, but don’t be too tough because I need to know I’m not the only one hurting.
On the darkest days it’s not enough to remind yourself that this is a lifestyle choice that YOU made. Because you wonder whether you should have made it at all.
On the darkest days all you can do is take yourself to bed with chocolate and crochet, and hope that tomorrow you’ll wake up feeling ready for more adventure.
On the darkest days all decisions seem futile, from choosing a frame to go on the wall to picking a school for your child. Because what’s the point in making a permanent mark when you might be moving on in a matter of months?
On the darkest days no amount of chitchat with the friendly lady at the bakery or with the other mum from nursery makes up for not having someone you can just sit with in companionable silence, safe in the knowledge they’ve known you for so long you don’t need to speak.
On the darkest days your child asks to visit his grandparents, and you don’t know whether your heart can take having to say “no my love, we can’t” for the 20th time that week.
On the darkest days you just want to eat the same foods, have the same habits, and drum to the same beat as everyone around you, despite having felt proud of your stinky tea with milk and your improbably early dinners the day before.
On the darkest days you feel unreasonably, disproportionately jealous of anyone who’s mum pops in to do the laundry or cook dinner on an ordinary weekday, despite knowing you’d never ask her to do these things even she you lived round the corner.
On the darkest days you ache for “home”, until you remember you've moved so many times the very concept has faded to something undefinable, and you ache even more.
On the darkest days you look at your partner and will them to be simultaneously strong and fragile: don’t crack because I won’t be able to cope if you do, but don’t be too tough because I need to know I’m not the only one hurting.
On the darkest days it’s not enough to remind yourself that this is a lifestyle choice that YOU made. Because you wonder whether you should have made it at all.
On the darkest days all you can do is take yourself to bed with chocolate and crochet, and hope that tomorrow you’ll wake up feeling ready for more adventure.
March Update:
Okay, well I feel better for having gotten all that off my chest! And also for having received so many wonderful supportive responses - the blogging community never fails amaze me, so THANK YOU.
Finally, I'm also pleased to say that while we're still dealing with the uncertainty that comes with temporary work contracts, we did get a place for the Bean at the school we wanted. This is good! If we do stay, at least we know he will be in a great place. And the rest will hopefully come together eventually :-)
Okay, well I feel better for having gotten all that off my chest! And also for having received so many wonderful supportive responses - the blogging community never fails amaze me, so THANK YOU.
Finally, I'm also pleased to say that while we're still dealing with the uncertainty that comes with temporary work contracts, we did get a place for the Bean at the school we wanted. This is good! If we do stay, at least we know he will be in a great place. And the rest will hopefully come together eventually :-)
Come say hello:
