Death by 1k cuts

Moving house (or at least trying to) is one of the worst things I have/am doing in my entire life. The amount of damage this whole process has done to my mental health is unreal… and it isn’t even over yet.

So we nearly made it. We saw a beautiful house that we fell in love with and accepted an offer for. We were nearly at the end of the process when the mom of the family got seriously ill (hello trigger) and they had to pull out. So we went back to a house we’d made an offer on the week before we saw the house that made me cry and after a load of toing and froing he finally accepted the same offer that we made 2 months previously. Aka if he had actually accepted our offer at that point we would have probably already moved.

This whole process has been especially horrific thanks to the fact that it hinges entirely on me. My current house (that I own thanks to my mom dying) is the deposit along with the last of my inheritance. Therefore everything to do with selling this place can only go through me. Oh and I have crippling financial anxiety thanks to growing up broke and having dyscalculia. I thought I’d factored in all of the costs involved but apparently not given things like getting pressured to get the heating and electrics tested (at my cost) that then got used to barter more off the price, insurance indemnities for the area where you put the bin out etc.

2 weeks ago our solicitor said he would propose signing the contracts last Friday and moving this Friday. We then both got Covid for the first time but obviously we still might have to move. Picture us hauling stuff out of the loft, boxing things up all while coughing and having temperatures. I’m ringing moving firms trying to get quotes but I can’t book anything because I don’t have a definite date and unless I have that then I lose my deposit.

Finally chase the solicitor who admits by the day before we are supposed to be signing that we won’t be because our buyer’s solicitor still has a stupid query. So everything is back on hold. Most of what we own is in boxes. I am exhausted.

I am so, so so tired. I do not have anything left. If this falls through I’ve told my husband I give up. I can’t start this over again. The kids will have to suck it up, we will have to suck it up.

I wake up every day during the working week with a sense of dread because there might be yet another email needing money or another set of quotes I need to get or another piece of bad fucking news. I wake up on the weekend surrounded by fucking boxes, unable to find things. I can’t move around my own home.

I am so exhausted. I have a fear response to the googlemail pop up which is not very useful when Linkedin keeps emailing me.

But apparently this is all just me ‘sucking the fun’ out of moving house! Oh what a terrible drag I am PAYING FOR EVERYTHING, RINGING EVERYONE and HAVING TO DEAL WITH ALL OF THIS SHIT AND GIVE UP MY SAFE, PAID FOR SPACE FOR 2 KIDS WHO WOULDN’T CARE IF I DROPPED DEAD.

What am I doing? This is the only space I’ve known for 10 years. It’s got me through the treacherous ending of a 7 year relationship, job losses, my mom passing away. It became my security and my thing to rely on even through its unreliable angles.

I’m trying to tell myself that this is going to be beneficial for me and my family but in the other part of my mind all I can see are the rising fuel bills everyone is experiencing and the cost of living shooting up.

I just want this to be over. I want to wake up in the morning in a room where I know that I won’t have to move everything I own. I want to be able to put my art up and my altars. I want to feel settled and I haven’t felt settled in well over a year and a half now.

My dad sent me a letter and I just don’t care. I don’t have the capacity to care about things at the moment. I’m sick of feeling. I started disassociating last week from stress. I feel on the edge of tears almost all the time. I can’t make plans because I don’t know when The Event is going to happen.

I am so so so exhausted and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it.

No rest for the de-pressed

We had an outstanding 3 hour argument on Thursday about everything. And I mean a PROPER argument. Me crying so hard I couldn’t talk, him screeching at me, the works. As a rule we are not a couple that argues.

Let’s just say I had a lot to talk about at counselling.

I had a panic attack that day on the walk home from the shops. I got back and had to change my phone background from him to one of my dog. I felt… betrayed?? The more I sat and worked it out the more I realised that it was because he’d triggered the big red “abusive dad” button in my head. The dog chewed something of his that day and I was worried about telling him because I had a fear he would hurt the dog. He never would but my dad once threw my childhood dog over a 6ft fence because it wouldn’t stop barking.

I think it was that feeling of fear that I resented him creating in me and it was probably the shock of seeing that anger in him come out. He hadn’t realised the true extent of how lonely I am and how much I am struggling right now as essentially his life hasn’t changed a great deal. He is still going out to work at the same job and most of his hobbies are unaffected.

I’ve been trying to work out with my counsellor why the prospect of moving house is fucking me up so badly. Like to the point while boxing things up I leant on a wall and cried.

1 – almost every reaction I have comes from a place of fear and worry

2 – this house is probably the safest space I have ever known: I own it, it currently has no debt, my family home is full of horrors from my dad and my 2nd home was rented and never felt secure to me. This house has been in my name from the start. It was a consistency when my ex left, when I was suicidal, when my mom died..

3 – I do not feel like this sacrifice is acknowledged. I can’t say this to my husband without coming across like a bitch and making out he is a burden. There is a small, hurt part of me that wants recognition at the fact that I am giving up my security, going back into debt, leaving behind my comfort blanket for him and his kids. Specifically for his kids benefit. I don’t resent them, I walked into this relationship with my eyes open…. but I just feel like I am being made to feel bad about wanting to leave all these things behind.

Then tonight my husband had a text from his ex because one of the kids had made out we just leave them unattended while I am at work and he is asleep. My mental resolve is so low at the moment I just want to do a full confrontation but that of course would be the worst thing in the world. They can never remember what they did 3 hours previously let alone remember something shitty they did days ago.

I want a break from myself. I just want to hand my body over to someone and be like “tell me how to make this look good”. I feel like a fucking swamp witch.

I am so so so exhausted. I just want to give up but the motivational force of self loathing won’t let me. I am still alive though. The depression is back but the suicidal fantasies aren’t. Horrible waking nightmare intrusive thoughts about terrible things happening to the dog are apparently trending though

Omega level argument

So we have been together 3 years, 4 in August this year. We don’t argue. We can disagree on stuff and get raised voices sometimes but we don’t do the slanging match fights.

Not till today.

We had a 3 hour fight. I had to text in sick to work because we were still in the thick of it and I was supposed to be in a meeting. I was crying so hard I couldn’t speak. He screamed at me and accusing me of being like his ex. I was pointing out I literally speak to no other human being but him ALL DAY EVERY DAY became plague island aka England is still locked down.

Fucking hell it was awful. I do not enjoy confrontation because it reminds me too much of my dad. I’ve found that lingering a lot for the rest of the day. The dog had fucked up and chewed something of my husband’s and my first thought was of him hurting the dog. My husband would never do that. My dad once threw our dog over a 6ft fence because she wouldn’t stop barking (I told my mom when she came home, her comment was he had once done the same to the dog she had when they first met. That pretty much sums their marriage up).

It was a weird experience riding the waves. First of fear, then of anger, then the adrenaline wore off and the panic attacks came in. I ended up shotgunning chocolate into my face, in my fluffy robe watching the second care beard film from the 80s.

What was this argument about? I’d dared to suggest that while he sorted out a legal thing he is entangled in that we slow down looking for a house. He decided to take this as “I don’t want to move and this is my excuse”. It was ugly. It got personal. We made up but I have felt off and horrible all day.

He said he hadn’t realised how lonely I am because essentially nothing in his life had changed a great deal. Even with his new job he will be going out to work. I literally don’t see anyone. My exciting time is going to a shop to buy food.

I wish I could say that I feel better and like things are resolved but I don’t. I feel vulnerable, I feel defensive still. I can feel this hesitation inside me because I feel like he is going to “attack” again. I guess this is all related to my dad. Something to talk to the counsellor about I guess -_-

Burning down the house

Thankfully not literally but almost. So we’re thinking of selling and unfortunately our dog who hates baths is not only shedding everywhere but is intensifying in DOG smell. The groomers hasn’t been open since Christmas. So we have been trying to burn candles to build up a nicer non-dog smell. So my exhausted, overwhelmed and depressed arse left a candle burning in the front room all night with no clue. Thankfully I’d at least put it on a coaster and it was a decent candle so didn’t burn the house down -_- That would have made the house viewings I’d booked in next week unfortunate.

We’ve been packing things up around the house to try and make it look better which has been.. hard apparently. The other day I just sat and cried in front of boxes of my books. I don’t want to leave this house. It’s my comfortable shell, it’s my security. Currently I don’t have any debt against it which in today’s day and age is pretty unheard of. It’s been with me through the worst of my depression and some really good times.

But we have to move. 2 step kids under 7, a dog and a lot of hobbies that take over the entire house means it’s becoming snug and I’m permanently working from home in one of the bedrooms. We need to change… but also it just isn’t materialising.

Everything feels so overwhelming at the moment. I’ve been trying to sort out lists, trying to work out the costs and the timelines to make things less stressful and it has made things… more stressful.

I don’t know if I should give up and try and go on anti-depressants but I know how much of a trial and error process it is. I worry I’ll end up on ones that will make me pile the weight on but then I guess me emotionally eating is doing that on its own.

I’m not the only person feeling this utter demotivation and depression which I guess is comforting? We had a work ‘mental health awareness’ session with a guided meditation and people were crying on it so everyone’s at their limit. I mean at least I’m not responsible for teaching the kids on top of all this.

I’m so sick of trying to exercise in my house in front of the TV, I’m sick of being in these 4 walls and only going out to walk the dog round the same streets we’ve been covering for a year. I’m sick of looking at my calendar and seeing nothing in it. I want to see my friends. I want to get a tattoo. I want to go to the cinema. I want to go OUT somewhere. I just want to stay in bed, eat chocolate and play on the PS4.

Exhaustion

So it’s been a time. I’ve just had my counselling session and I feel like my battery is utterly flat.. which doesn’t bode well when I have to DM a DnD session.

We’ve been mulling over selling the house and moving for a while and then a couple of weeks ago we saw a property that looked ideal. This sent me into panic mode as the house is no way near ready to be sold yet and all of these estate agents seem to think that you should have already sold your house before you start looking for your next one…… which is not how my brain works. So I went into overdrive, got workmen in to start quoting for jobs that need doing, got boxes in, started pricing up how much it costs to move… and had a massive anxiety attack.

The whole money issue is a massive trigger to me. There’s nothing like growing up with financial stability and having dyscalculia to give you a fear of money issues from multiple angles. I was trying to price up mortgages and I had to run the calculations about 4 times because I kept messing up the figures. I’m also terrified of gambling the security we have now to get into a lot of debt. I mean I know that’s just the expectation of home ownership these days but it terrifies me.

At work we lost some more clients which was set off my ‘you’re expendable, you’ll get fired’ siren in my head. My manager says I need to be ‘more resilient’ which by the way she uses it seems to mean ‘not get emotional about things’ but I do… I feel emotional about things but I keep going. To me being ‘resilient’ makes me think of running a marathon… like I can keep running and still cry I just might go a bit slower for a bit. I spoke to my counsellor about it and she said that ‘resilient’ is a bit of a bullshit buzzword.

I just feel so tired and so burnt out. I put weight on this week and I just feel like eating my body weight in chocolate. I’m so tired of trying to work hard to keep myself afloat when I never feel any better. I’m sick of dieting and exercising when I hate it. I just want to give in but I know if I do I’ll just annihilate all the work I’ve put in and just be fat and depressed.

I wish I could just hibernate until this lockdown was over. I’m so tired