Another low key weekend, spent far too much time doing absolutely fuck all. On Fridays I'm always so excited, can hardly sit still - "yay", I think, "it's nearly the weekend! No more work for 2 blissful days!" and am all happy and cheerful and anticipatory .... then I wake up on Saturday feeling on edge and anxious because I've realised overnight that, in fact, the reality is that I have 2 whole days yawning ahead of me with nothing to do to fill the hours which is going to be any different from the 6 months' worth of weekends that have preceded it. Yeah yeah I can read, go out for a run, practise yoga/pilates, "hang out" (that phrase annoys me sometimes) with the boy, etc ... but it palls a little after you've spent so MANY weekends doing just that.
Spent about an hour and a half lying in bed crying in the dark Saturday afternoon, mostly over no conceivable trigger. I was listening to Fat Freddy's Drop on my iPod as I had thought that, after a day lacking severely in external stimulation, it might make me feel better to imagine that I was back in sunny NZ (nothing conjures up happy scenes for me better than NZ music). Anyway, for some reason, instead of making me feel better, it actually just crystallized this weird feeling of internal pressure building that I'd had all day yesterday, and I just lay there and cried for what felt like ages. I just was thinking about all the good times I've had in the past with friends and family, and how I haven't felt like that for so long now - my life seems to be on hold while I'm here and I'm afraid that I'll never be able to get back that solid, reassuring feeling that there will always be good times to be had.
I don't know, maybe I was just in an exceptionally sensitive mood yesterday - but I was teary for the whole rest of the evening. Couldn't explain it to poor Jeremy because I don't even understand it myself, I just wanted to be left alone and not to have to talk to anyone and he didn't understand that. I felt really bad for him, but too tired to be bothered making the (herculanean) effort to cheer myself up and become "normal angie" again.
Fortunately felt MUCH better today, we went out for a romantic breakfast in the Waffle House in Norwich (typically of our personalities, Jeremy had an actual proper meal for his breakfast, whereas I had a waffle which is meant to be for dessert -! Toasted pecans and toffee syrup for those of you who are interested, and then I compounded the sugary goodness by drowning it all in maple syrup. Whoever said that food should not be used as a comfort tool was a fucking idiot.)
Was also somewhat of a milestone, as today's visit marked our last-ever opportunity to visit the waffle house EVER AGAIN - thank you, Jesus!! (not saying that's a good thing in itself, because it's fucking delicious!, but it's one more exhilariting symbol of things I will no longer be able to do strictly because there's no time left before I go home!) Only 2 more weekends to go in the UK.
Next weekend I am going to Birmingham to see my long-lost aunt and uncle (my Dad's big sis) and my 90 year old Grandma, who has very recently moved in to stay with them as she no longer feels comfortable in the house by herself. Dad extorted a promise from me that I HAVE to go and see them before I come home "no matter what, Angie! I want you to promise me!" because he wants me to see Grandma before she passes on, which apparently everyone thinks will be soon. It's weird though, it's not like he needed to make me promise - I actually really wanted to anyway, my life has been quite short on relations up til recently, what with our family living on the other side of the world from everyone else. The effect of his doing that has been to take some of the excitement off the prospect of visiting and replace it with a vague, curdling unease (is there some reason why I should have been reluctant to go -?!). Should be interesting anyway because I truly idolise my Dad as one of the coolest people I will ever meet, and I feel like this will bring me closer to him, getting to know his family and all (I don't know about you, but I get the distinct impression that parents only let you see what they WANT you to see, sometimes ... and I want to get to know mine as people, not just in the role of parents! Have already come a long way with that anyway, we're an incredibly close family, but still. I reckon his big sis will be able to tell me things about him that I never would have heard from his own mouth!)
When I get home I'm going to burst into tears, kiss the ground and then run like a madman across the tarmac and hug all the palmtrees.
Spent about an hour and a half lying in bed crying in the dark Saturday afternoon, mostly over no conceivable trigger. I was listening to Fat Freddy's Drop on my iPod as I had thought that, after a day lacking severely in external stimulation, it might make me feel better to imagine that I was back in sunny NZ (nothing conjures up happy scenes for me better than NZ music). Anyway, for some reason, instead of making me feel better, it actually just crystallized this weird feeling of internal pressure building that I'd had all day yesterday, and I just lay there and cried for what felt like ages. I just was thinking about all the good times I've had in the past with friends and family, and how I haven't felt like that for so long now - my life seems to be on hold while I'm here and I'm afraid that I'll never be able to get back that solid, reassuring feeling that there will always be good times to be had.
I don't know, maybe I was just in an exceptionally sensitive mood yesterday - but I was teary for the whole rest of the evening. Couldn't explain it to poor Jeremy because I don't even understand it myself, I just wanted to be left alone and not to have to talk to anyone and he didn't understand that. I felt really bad for him, but too tired to be bothered making the (herculanean) effort to cheer myself up and become "normal angie" again.
Fortunately felt MUCH better today, we went out for a romantic breakfast in the Waffle House in Norwich (typically of our personalities, Jeremy had an actual proper meal for his breakfast, whereas I had a waffle which is meant to be for dessert -! Toasted pecans and toffee syrup for those of you who are interested, and then I compounded the sugary goodness by drowning it all in maple syrup. Whoever said that food should not be used as a comfort tool was a fucking idiot.)
Was also somewhat of a milestone, as today's visit marked our last-ever opportunity to visit the waffle house EVER AGAIN - thank you, Jesus!! (not saying that's a good thing in itself, because it's fucking delicious!, but it's one more exhilariting symbol of things I will no longer be able to do strictly because there's no time left before I go home!) Only 2 more weekends to go in the UK.
Next weekend I am going to Birmingham to see my long-lost aunt and uncle (my Dad's big sis) and my 90 year old Grandma, who has very recently moved in to stay with them as she no longer feels comfortable in the house by herself. Dad extorted a promise from me that I HAVE to go and see them before I come home "no matter what, Angie! I want you to promise me!" because he wants me to see Grandma before she passes on, which apparently everyone thinks will be soon. It's weird though, it's not like he needed to make me promise - I actually really wanted to anyway, my life has been quite short on relations up til recently, what with our family living on the other side of the world from everyone else. The effect of his doing that has been to take some of the excitement off the prospect of visiting and replace it with a vague, curdling unease (is there some reason why I should have been reluctant to go -?!). Should be interesting anyway because I truly idolise my Dad as one of the coolest people I will ever meet, and I feel like this will bring me closer to him, getting to know his family and all (I don't know about you, but I get the distinct impression that parents only let you see what they WANT you to see, sometimes ... and I want to get to know mine as people, not just in the role of parents! Have already come a long way with that anyway, we're an incredibly close family, but still. I reckon his big sis will be able to tell me things about him that I never would have heard from his own mouth!)
When I get home I'm going to burst into tears, kiss the ground and then run like a madman across the tarmac and hug all the palmtrees.
Hope you're feeling better
Sad to hear that you've had that kind of weekend - but don't worry things will start to stir up, that's the way it works!
Anyways, if you really want to learn to appreciate 2 days of doing absolutely nothing, then hit 50 days of work - STRAIGHT - without ANY time to relax...I bet you'd feel much more focused on doing nothing