I just have to get through the next two months. It’s increasingly difficult to manage my life sans medication and I feel like I am constantly battling just to maintain the pretense of normalcy. I say to my mum I feel a bit down and she taps my leg and says Don’t feel down like I can control it. Can I control it. The trigger happened a month ago and I managed up until last week when I found myself sobbing in the supermarket. I needed to cry. I don’t feel responsible anymore and I don’t feel guilt; I feel angry and unforgiving and that’s worse. I feel like How dare she not accept my remorse and I know when she does finally come she will piously tell me I am forgiven will expect my gratefulness. I will not be grateful. I will need her to acknowledge what she did in turn and she will not be able to do that. I know her. I know her too well. She is my kin and we are the same.

I am waiting for something to burst my bubble. I resigned from my job. I have to give three months notice and in three months I expect to be in Canada.

I walk around my little house telling the creatures we are moving to Canada.

The thing is, I actually believe it.

Ian and I have completed the forms. He asked my parents if he could take me to Canada and they gave their blessing. He’s sponsoring me as his conjugal partner which makes the process so much quicker. I’ve had my criminal record check competed and it was fine. I’ve booked in for the medical exam the Canadian high commission insist on and I’ve booked the creatures in to get their pet passports.

[Condition 1 of me moving: The creatures come or I don't.]

We’ve started looking at houses and when I go over to visit in August we’ll probably secure something so Ian can set it all up for my arrival. I am so excited.

I’ve missed keeping a blog and I have missed writing, but things are so settled for me that writing doesn’t give me the same kick it once did. I am not driven anymore by the same things that inspired me to write and what now inspires me doesn’t translate well to words.

The new Iron and Wine album is fantastic.

I had such high hopes for this site, and perhaps that sentence sums up how I feel about my writing. I never claimed to be a writer but I enjoyed my poetry and it made me happy when others did. I don’t doubt that more will come, however, for now I will content myself with random wafflings here and there on the state of my life and the world and the apple tree in my garden.