It's lonely just having me and my head all day to talk to, converse and talk about my feelings. Incase you're wondering, SB and I have moved out into our own apartment. It's a really nice one-bedroom apartment that's very central to downtown Kitchener and Uptown Waterloo and just across SB's workplace - so we save on gas. I'm still unemployed, although now I'm voluntarily staying unemployed - someone needs to be home to handle all the wedding planning, apartment repairs and such.
Oh, and did I mention apartment repairs? So, we had a leaky ceiling - so the maintenance guys came in and made a gigantic hole in the bathroom ceiling and it's been that way for a week while whatever leaky piping they fixed dries up to prevent any water damage to the structure. And then about a few days ago, there was someone two floors above us that had a backed up drain that caused all their water to flood our kitchen and living room. Luckily, SB caught it in time and we just have a soaking wet rug and a wall, but that involved maintenance coming in and moving all our furniture in one direction, tearing out the rug and blasting two incredibly large fans continuously onto the living room carpet for the past three days and now they're going to tear up the floorboards and wall to repair the water damage. Thankfully, I don't pay a penny for it, but having to deal with all this two weeks in to our new home is making me a little cranky.
But I can't really share this with SB because he's busy working 7 days a week. When he's not working at the hospital during the week, he works at a computer store on the weekends. All so that we have enough money for both of us to pay rent and eat. He wouldn't work so hard if I had a job, but with all these repairs and the wedding coming up and my immigration issues to work out, I don't have time to work. Plus, the fact that I have to travel every six months does not make future employers very happy with me. People think that my traveling makes me rich, spoiled and pampered. I get to go home every six months. They have no idea that my jaunt to Dubai is me having to go back to handle immigration issues and family business and financial things because they require me physically present to complete them. I really don't have much fun on my visits back. I hardly see my friends - if at all. Only the last trip was any real fun - because I got to shop for my wedding and meet my family. Even then, it was such a short trip that I had to stuff as many things as possible in each day.
Anyhow, I thought I could commiserate with my mother over the state of the house. So I tell her the house is topsy-turvy and messy because I haven't been able to unpack because of all the repairs. And then she tells me, "But you're always so messy." And that hurt.
For those of you that don't know my mother, she's a neat-freak of the OCD-kind. Everything is in its place, and they're all neatly tucked away. My style of organisation is a little different. I tend to neatly pack away things I don't use much and as such, don't move around as much. Things that I use frequently tend to be in little piles of chaos, similar to say a journalist's office or a normal paper-pusher's desk in a cubicle. But that's far to chaotic for my mother and hence she thinks I'm an incredibly filthy slob.
SB is neater than me, but only slightly more. We have similar ways of organizing things, so it works out well for us. However, when we moved in, I really tried to have a fresh start and quickly unpack things so that I can have friends and family over to show of the place and have a cozy home that I can invite friends over to. Something to prove to my mom that I can be a good home-person and a good wife and mother. Because she certainly doesn't think I can as she continuously reminds me because I'm fat and a slob. So when the flooding and leaking started, I cracked and despaired. Still despairing. Because now I'll never be able to have my house up on time to invite folks over and be a good hostess. And our house will always be a mess.
It makes me wonder many times a day why I even bother waking up anymore. Or living. This isn't a suicide threat or a call for help. I'm not going to off myself. But I just don't feel like doing anything anymore - or even bother trying. I feel so alone and helpless. I have no friends to talk to. And it's hard making friends because I don't feel like I can relate to anyone or tell them how I feel like - like in this blog.
SB keeps reassuring me that everything will be alright and that this is temporary. In my mind, I know he's right. But for now, I feel so alone. And it hurts that my mom called my house messy and me a slob.
End of rant.
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