Things have been quiet around here, save for the Morocco back story, because things have been hard. Marriages are said to have a 7 year itch; I have had the re-locating equivalent. 7 months in and it's been a hard few weeks. Nothing is new down here any more, summer is ending, I haven't seen people in months and I've had to get used to talking less Monday through Thursday evenings. It's kinda lonely and I miss my friends. Hell, I miss London and my old life. Which hasn't carried on without me, I know that. London has changed, people have moved out, into marriages, in with new lovers, out of old relationships and everyone has fast paced jobs. Yet, some days the vintage buses which run between our village and the town where I work do not charm me. Some days I long for busy tubes and red buses and architecture and fashion and starbucks. To wear high heels. Lipstick. To go out for drinks after work.
Other days I thank god that at least after a stressful day at work I can drive through 7 miles of gorgeous, national park-ified countryside and sit in my beautiful cottage rather than another bloody journey from Holborn to Arsenal jammed up against five other people without enough space to open a newspaper.
Some days I decide we must get a cat. No, a dog. A whippet and a border terrier. A baby perhaps. Other days I cannot even manage to make myself eat and so looking after something else is out of the question. Work is hard. I feel unsettled. I am busy but sometimes I feel something is missing. I second guess every lonely feeling. Everything feels significant but I can't work out why. Ten year anniversaries of every fucking thing crop up every other week at the moment: losing virginity, passing driving test, A-levels, leaving home, starting university, succumbing to depression. Nostalgia so vivid it's crippling. Songs, music, conversation, sex, books and the way the sunlight looks in the early evening.
Talking about it is hard. Writing is worse. Who wants to read such navel gazing that I brought on myself by choosing to uproot here. Husband has it worse. He still sleeps at different houses each works and holds down his London job with skill and aplomb. He has been promoted.
Yet even unending blackberries, foraging, pies, baking, the onset of an Indian summer and a carnival can't seem to lift me this week....
8 comments:
Ah, I can definitely sympathise with this. Uprooting to such a rural area is hard, especially coming from a place like London and not having your husband there all the time as support. And I definitely know how you feel on the whole nostalgia front; it's also ten years since I passed A Levels, left home, went to university etc and I'm doing the same thing. I guess the fact it's a decade on means these events take on more significance and you end up thinking more about where you are now, ten years down the line. I had a get together last weekend with friends I met at university in the first term and ended up drowning in nostalgia, looking through old photos and reliving old events.
(But on the upside, Somerset carnivals rock! They truly have to be seen to be believed. When the Bridgwater circuit starts in November make sure you go to one because you will never have seen so many lightbulbs all in one place.)
I'm so sorry you're having a hard time... I can really understand what you're getting through. Maybe you could get a cat; they're very low-maintenance and provide lovely company.
I'm sending lots of hugs and positive energy your way...
Oh, Rach, I'm sorry! Big, big hugs to you. I wish I could do something or say something to make it all better, but I wouldn't even know where to start. I am thinking about you and I hope things do take a turn for the better.
(I vote cat over dog, but only for now and only because they're pretty self sufficient and low maintenance. Minus the litter box.)
You are living my old country life combined with my new largely single life. That sounds unimaginably hard. Well done for making it through so far. What are your plans (as a couple) for the future? It helps me now to know that this is temporary, things will not always be this way, even though we have no set end point in sight.
And as I approach 30, the nostalgia for the last decade had been killing me. You've put it all so beautifully.
Oh hun, I'm so sorry things are tough and had noticed you had been very quiet. It must be so hard to do all you have and to have made the decisions you made but you have been so brave so many times in choosing to do what you do. The end of summer I always find is a slightly miserable time, I find the shortening of the days and the surprisingly coolness a little shocking until I get used to them and enjoy their cosiness.
A cat could be a good thing to have, for company, for something to cuddle when you need that and for someone to talk to. But I guess it's just working out what is best for you.
I agree with agirl in that having a plan in these situations or seeing an end point is often something which can get one through times like this. Something to look forward to if nothing else.
Finally congratulations to M for his promotion! That's wonderful news :) And my hugest best wishes, virtual hugs and such like for you. Xx
You wrote this so beautifully, Rachel, I can feel it.
I'm sorry you're having a hard time, feeling bad. Marchelle is onto something when she talks about having things to look forward to.
Congratulations to M on his promotion. And lots of hugs to you xx
Thank you all for your kind and wise words.
And, despite my fears, I did enjoy the carnival. After all, when in London did I get the chance to sit on the trailer of a tracker dressed as a red indian singing "if you're happy and you know it" with 8 12 year olds, also dressed as red indians, to the sound of a troop of majorettes, the whole while being paraded around the village with the streets lined with hoards of people?
Saw you on Twitter and came over.... Ah, it IS hard. I'm not sure I could have moved here from London when I was younger... I got London totally out of my system (partied so hard my 20s are a total blur) before moving. And even now I do occasionally yearn for a bit of sophistication, for a choice of culture, for friends who are totally on the same wavelength...
Terriers are a nightmare, btw! A whippet would be FAR easier. (spoken by a woman whose terrier was swiftly renamed ASBO). xx
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