Well, we’ve now gotten the word from our landlords that we have to move. After eleven years and change, we’re leaving our Shangri-La and going only God knows where. And as much as I wish I could be angry with them, I can’t muster it…..it’s not their fault, they can’t let us live here for free, and they’ve been the best landlords on the planet.
No, what I’m angry at is the fact that I feel powerless to change the course of the trajectory my life is taking. I’m standing here, watching it fall apart piece by piece, and despite my efforts I don’t seem to be able to halt its descent. I would far rather have been the one to pull the plug and downsize my life on MY terms. Then again, I wish I’d learned how to control my work life instead of letting it control me, so that I could’ve lasted longer. I wish I didn’t have this illness that’s complicated EVERYTHING in my life and made it just that much harder. I wish I were younger, thinner, and not overqualified for the jobs I can handle.
But that’s all water under the proverbial bridge, and instead of getting mired down and feeling sorry for myself, I’ve moved into survival mode. I have a lot to do and not nearly as much time as I need to accomplish it. For one thing, Will and I don’t have the money to move, so we’ve got to save up as much as we can next month so we can be out by the end of the month, if not sooner. We’ve got to have a garage sale, get boxes so we can pack up the remaining stuff and put it in storage, find someplace to live. In the meantime, we have to get rid of our expensive phone and cable plans, and we have to figure out what to do with our precious pets.
And I look around at this unfolding disaster and wonder if this would be happening if only I’d been stronger. If only I hadn’t gotten sick.
I don’t know.
But I do know that I’m going to have to listen to the pragmatic, rational me who realizes it’s a waste time flagellating myself for things I have no control over. I was strong. I did the best I could with what I had to work with. And who the hell asks for bipolar disorder to disrupt their lives? I sure didn’t, but I have it and ignoring it is not an option. I’m doing what I’m supposed to do to control the symptoms, and I’m doing a decent job of it—yeah, there are a few hiccups now and again, but for the most part I’m in a lot better shape than I was a year or two ago.
So, what does the future look like? I have absolutely NO idea. But in finally being forced to give up this hectic, high-pressure lifestyle, I suspect I may find more relief than anything else once the dust has settled. After all, I have long wished for a simpler life; here at last may be my chance to live it.