Admittedly, my poor husband does not get enough credit. In the lead up to my trip to the UK without him, my nightly insomnia is fuelled with the worry that without me, he just will not get anything done. A visa in the pipeline, multiple passport applications to be done and the next few months of being a single father, that husband of mine has his work cut out for him and despite his numerous attempts to quell the beast that is my OCD, I really cannot let it go. So what does one do when one has far too much time on one’s hands and enough anxiety to push an AA meeting to vodka? One makes lists of course. To do lists. Checklists. Bucket lists and blacklists. If it can be listed, I will list it somewhere – Suddenly excel and I are on amazing terms and short of detailing the number of breaths I have to take in a day to survive, all of my daily tasks are documented. So why the lists you ask? I can tell you for certain, it is not because I think my husband is incapable of doing as I ask, it is more a case of me worrying that I will forget to nag about yet another task I have given him to do.
One of the incredibly difficult things for me to deal with about our impending move is the fact that I just do not have control. I am in control of the basics, the finances, the movement and the choices we have made, the rest is in the hands of government departments and others. I can only do so much and for me, with the kind of anxiety that I am currently suffering, that ‘so much’ that I can do is just never enough. With my move happening far sooner than that of my family, I am forced to relinquish control to my husband for many of the things that I would normally handle and have been in charge of handling up until now. When I leave, he has to make sure he obtains everything required to apply for his visa, all of the documents needed for the girl’s passports, taking over the duties of looking after my children and making sure that everything runs as smoothly here as I hope to have things running over there, ready for them to come over as soon as possible. With all of these things that he has to do and arrange, I have sat night after night typing up to do lists and trying to get as much done before I leave as humanly possible – Driving this husband of mine absolutely bloody moggy, not because of his inability to do this without me, but because of my inability to just let go.
A spiky marshmellow is what I have been called by those that know and love me, or so they say. I tend to portray this tough, hard exterior and yet right now I am melting on the inside. I found myself waking up this morning thinking that today was the second last Sunday that I would spend in South Africa. I struggle to think of what it is I will miss about this country, barring family and friends of course, yet I know the day draws nearer to when I have to get on that plane and wave goodbye to my children and my husband for what will be a lifetime until they arrive. ‘I love you three’ will be something that my three year old says to me over Skype without the accompaniment of a snake love (It is a hug on steroids with the constriction of a snake of course, totally normal). Glee will not be in on in the background of my home while my husband pretends it is on for my 8 year old and that same 8 year old will not be coming to me to help me with her homework, or reading her stories to me while I am in the bath.
The universe has a funny way of giving us what we thought we wanted when we did not want it at all. Before you misinterpret that, understand that I am not referring to the England move as that is something that we want more than you could possible imagine. What I mean is that in getting what we want, we are faced with a separation that no one would ever have asked for and yet subconsciously, as a mother, there are times when my inside voices have screamed for solitude and peace and quiet. I have never been ‘on my own’, when I moved out of home it was with the father of my daughter and thereafter it has always been H and I, I have never had to be alone no matter how many times I frustratingly wished I could be. I have of course, always done everything backwards so it makes sense that the universe has decided that having a husband and two children means it is time for some ‘ME’ time – I am about to be alone for the next few months, whether I like it or not. Trust me, I don’t like it but I will be damned if I don’t make the most of it – I am going to enjoy this time on my own, by hook or by crook and when my family arrives they will be more appreciated and loved than they could possibly understand – SNAKE love all around.
Making lists seems to be a way of taking my mind off of all this pressure, the fear of loneliness and the worst case scenarios that as a realist, are firmly cemented in my mind. All I can think about is what if the girls do not get their passports (Most unlikely, in fact improbable but still a thought), what if my husband does not get his visa (Again, improbable but realistic), what if things do not work out the way I have so cautiously planned and what if all my list making is in vain and no one bothers to follow my lists. What then? The fact that my lists could go ignored has me needing to make a back up list for myself, just in case.
I sound like an absolute nut job right now, I get it. If you were about to endure what I am going to be, you would be a nut job too. Nut job or not, I have to believe that my lists will be read and my OCD will not be in vain… Add control freak to your list of judgements for me, at least you can tick it off – Ticks always make the list look better.
Off to tick a list…