In a moment of anxiety, a mood swing which resulted in my blubbering messages to my partner J who read them in the small time he had at work, I wrote this extract. Writing is how I process emotion and it helps me ‘get it out’.
We are currently on our hunt for a home having not received any indication from the social housing that we’re even on the list, let alone going to get a house anytime soon. It’s getting too much for me here, in this shared building, and I’m so so anxious to move. They promised an email, and it’s been almost 2 weeks.
So yesterday I found a house up for rent on Gumtree, and we’ve booked a viewing for today. I’m not sure it’ll be suitable at all, but here’s mayyyybe hoping we get some sort of clarity on our position with the housing people, or else we jump head-first into this 2 bedroom cottage!
Anyway, here was my blabbering writing…
I don’t feel comfortable here. This isn’t my home.
I stay because I love you, but every meal time is an exercise on being polite, saying the right thing, not eating like a pig or complaining I’m still hungry afterwards, saying thank you, never forgetting whose house I’m in and to act appropriately at all times.
I can’t freaking relax. I can’t do anything without asking first. I can’t be in a mood, or have a moment of anger, or else risk everything like changing the atmosphere in the house, jeopardizing my space here with you, or even worse, upsetting you.
We’ve got a lazy tit next door who does nothing in the house, a man who talks about our sex life to others because according to him the neighbours are “all talking about us” (they’re not), and a landlady who happens to be my colleague who tells my boss how I’m doing health-wise, life-wise and everything-wise.
I can’t do anything here, or feel like I can be myself at any time except with you.
I can’t go out without being watched, feeling judged. I can’t stay in without comparisons to the lazy one, we can’t wash our clothes without comment or go through the kitchen without being seen and entering into a repeated conversation with the 55 year old who acts like a racist, sexist, judgemental grandad.
I crave comfort and time to relax, and get so little here. I can’t keep going like this. All of my hobbies are computer-related or home-related and I can’t do the first one without feeling judged or the second without having to ask or be watched or commented upon. I don’t want all the unsolicited advice, I want them to bugger off.
I feel guilty for not cooking tea when she’s been at work and guilty if I do, because someone will hate it, or ends up having something else and I’ve used up food. You can’t even go outside without the dog whining, and I can’t take the dog alone because she chases everything, chews her lead and if I lose her or she attacks another animal it’ll be hell to pay. I have never had a dog.
I’m embarrassed, uncomfortable, anxious, feeling manipulated and held back. No wonder I’m bored when I’m without you at the house, I can’t do anything I enjoy, because here, I can’t just enjoy it.
Just to clarify, I am in no way ungrateful for what I do have here. I’m just anxious by default with GAD, am an introvert and love time to ‘recover’ from social interaction, and find most of my hobbies wiped away from me because they are home related, and this is not a home I can do things in.
Let’s see how 4pm goes!