So I moved in with a child.
Why?! You might ask. Because location was class, rent was a steal and it’s only for two months.
Why?! I am asking. Repeatedly.
I am terrible with children. I totally underestimated how hard it would be and how I would have to compromise my personal and social life for the needs of a child who isn’t mine.
I spent the first weekend in a teary mess viewing tiny, grimy little bedsits that made me feel dirty to have walked in and yet were totally out of my price range, desperately searching for some means of escape.
On the Saturday of that weekend, I met a trusted friend for a glass (bottle) of wine and the opportunity to pour all of this out to a listening ear.
She listened intently, as she always does, and then simply stated :
“I don’t think you are upset about your living situation per se. I’m pretty sure you’ve gone into panic mode because this was the first big step before travelling and your subconscious brain is aware that it means that the date is creeping nearer”.
She is so wise.
I had to leave my cosy home of a year because my contract was up and I could only renew it for another whole year. I had known this for nearly a year so the date always seemed distant. I also knew I would only be finding a short term rental because I leave in November. I sold the majority of my furniture, car booted my clothes and MusicMagpied my CD’s and films. Suddenly I was in the midst of that SHORT-term rental. Shit just got real and I didn’t like it.
Two months to departure. This countdown is getting serious.
Oh and by the way, yes it is hard living with a child and I’m not sure I would choose to do it if the choice was there again but, it really is a great location at a bargain cost and the house is lovely. And, since realising that it actually wasn’t what I was worried about, I feel much more at ease with the situation.