Silver linings sometimes look like rain clouds

This week has been stressful. There’s no nice way of putting it and to be blunt, I’ve been a moody bitch. Not intentionally, but I’ve been stressed, and overwhelmed and miserable and its felt like everything has been a huge struggle. There was a brief moment on Wednesday when I thought I was out of the woods; I’d had a killer leg day, PBs on most exercises and I’d done deadlifts on my own, but my post workout high was soon crushed.
I can’t even explain why I’ve been so miserable.
Just that I have.
There’s been tears nearly every day, and I’ve hardly slept for the storm of thoughts raging in my mind.
And it’s taken an particularly vulnerable emotional breakdown in the car on the way to the train station to feel like finally someone is listening and finally I’m not alone.


Post late night work out in Aus and one of my fave snaps of us

Zac and I are under no illusion that moving back to Australia is going to be easy, and seemingly each week brings a new stress, particularly when it comes to the house (long story short, I cocked that one up…), but I’ve not felt like a team.
And we are a team.
We’re the ultimate team.
But there’s been that feeling…you know when something just doesn’t feel right? Like, nothing is obviously wrong, there’s been no disagreement, no argument, everything is going as normal, but there’s just…
Imagine you’re in a restaurant, and they put bread down on the table, and your partner starts tucking in, hungrily, but you’re wary of eating any, because you didn’t order bread, you assume because it came to the table that it’s free, but in the back of your mind you’re thinking: they could charge us for this.
Maybe? I don’t think that helped – perhaps I should stop with the food analogies

But we have a weekend away from each other this weekend, and the second I left the county and Zac rang, I felt closer than I have for weeks.
And we finally managed to talk, and I think both realised we’ve been unintentionally neglecting the other.
Zac had already resigned himself to the fact the move was going to be harder than we could prepare for and wasn’t surprised there’d been some distance, whereas I felt his blaze attitude was trivialising the fact that I was closing a huge chapter in my life and however much I want to move, there’s still a grieving process, I guess for that something familiar and that something home.


The conversation before taking this went along the lines of: “We need to pull a silly face for a selfie, I’ll count to three, I’ll do it, so you better do it too…” (In the chocolate museum cafe in Köln)

We are a team, and we’ll get there, but right now it feels like we’ve got 4 mountains to climb, 3 rivers to fjord, 2 trolls to slay and a dragon to tame before we get there. Our silver linings just look like great big storm clouds and that ultimate goal seems to get out further away, with more obstacles in between.

I’ve always felt like I can be more frank with my feelings when I write them down and I think this is the first time I’ve really admitted that I’m struggling with the prospect, not of moving, but of what happens if we can’t.

It’s step by step, day by day at the moment.
I know I just need to think positive, stay strong and save hard.
Because I honestly don’t know what else I’m going to do.


One response to “Silver linings sometimes look like rain clouds

  1. Pingback: A&A; Bradford, Beanstalks and Home-made Benedict | Take Your Marks...Go!·

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