Exhausted

It has been 13 months of living in the past 3 months and I am tired. I want to sleep. I want more space in my house. I think I know what I'll do*. I am a bit sick of Australia because I don't have a husband - why do I not have a husband?

C got so sick last week. The vets are great at taking care of the dog but horrible at communicating - basically told me that C, well you know. So, I called Papa and he came within 48 hours, he was here. How lucky am I!! But I really wish there was a husband who could have taken care of me. 

I am going to try for IVF with a sperm donor - the donor is a physio turned doctor, who with his wife, has had a baby with a donor egg. I like that story. I wish I had a husband like that - or that my kid would have a father like that. Maybe they would - once they turn 18 - but hopefully they'll have something better. 

Work has been --- unrelenting. I wish I never Sonya again in my life - didn't help that when I had 5 to 10 minutes to actually resolve things with her, Belinda jumped in. Fuck it and I hate it. Spoke to a psychologist today thru the Employee Assistance Program today. And it led me to do exercise today for about 15 minutes because I realised that in spite of work and Chicory, nothing is going to happen if I don't take care of myself.  So I turned on the Nike Training App and did some stretching and core exercises in front of the TV. Felt really good.    

I am suddenly thinking about the big things - birth and death, and doing things when the only option is to do them the hard way. I want to buy a house walking distance from the beach. I was already keeping myself awake at night worrying about buying a house and doing well at work... burying the thinking about IVF and single motherhood and children of single mums when C got sick. I love C so much that he is the one person I am not angry with. I am angry with Seema for keeping poison in her backyard on top of a table that Chicory ate half a box of and killed his liver. I am angry that I never got to go for a three day walk to think thru all the hard things but instead got plunged into even harder things. I am angry that I do not have a husband to buy a house with, and I don't have a husband to be there for me when my dog gets sick and I need support. 

I sometimes repeat to myself that I don't want to live - I think even when no one hears me my heart does. And I have been making it sick for the past ten years by repeating that to myself. Now, I think of my heart as a little girl I once was - and I tell her I love her, I love her just as much as I love Chicory. 

There are things I am not telling you about yet: how I started to clean this apartment up when c got sick and again that has stalled. Why? What is the story that I am telling myself? And how I have put an evil eye glass pendant on Chicory's neck because I am sick of people saying nice things about him and him getting more and more sick. And how the house that I can afford near the beach will be an area where most people are not young. I think that is not true, just something someone living in St. Kilda would say. And how my bedroom looks worse than it did when I was a teenager or pretty much at any stage of my life because it is TOO SMALL and changing furniture is too hard because of the billion steps!

I think once I get pregnant, I will move to SA and rent this apartment out. I am more than tired of feeling like all my hard work is going waste, which isn't true.  

*I want a 700sqm block walking distance from the beach. I want it in January.