Because Killing A Fly is my place

I tried to write on 1 January, but I didn't want to be negative, so I left it. I tried again to write on 2 January, but all I had was misery, so I didn't write. Again on 3 January I wanted to write, but I didn't want to start 2009 that negatively. And on 4 January, I despaired of ever writing again.

But I really need to write about what's going on. It's my therapy. I'll try not to ruin my life by disclosing stuff I shouldn't. But if you don't want to read this, it's going to be your responsibility to click that little 'x' at the top-right corner and read something else.

Seriously. Go and read this or this or this or this or this. Anything. Heck, even go and read this. Just don't read what comes next if you don't want sad and grumpy stuff. (Also: I can't help but notice that the number of followers of my blog is dropping slowly as the Funny has dried up and the Sad has entered. I guess we'll watch it go down further!)

I will start with telling you that this move has shocked the socks off me.

Mr de Elba and I didn't have enough time to talk it through properly before we had to give an answer. They offered the job on a Wednesday afternoon and wanted an answer by that same Friday. Mr de Elba, rightly, said he needed longer than that and said he would give his answer the next Monday. But as you can imagine, that is not enough time to consider such an unwelcome life-changing move. Perhaps if we were both desperate to get moving, if we'd got itchy feet and were ready for something new, then the time-frame would have been okay. But given that the exact opposite was the truth, a mere 5 days was completely inadequate. Unfair on me.

I have been deeply hurt when people have expressed unbridled joy at our uprooting. With complete disregard for my utter devastation, they have danced on the grave of my hopes and dreams here, thinking only of what they can achieve or gain by having us move. Unfair on me.

I will be losing my job, my home, my friends, my locality, my everything. In their place - nothing. Not a new job. Nothing. Unfair on me.

I feel sad and angry that I have to leave. I feel betrayed by the powers that be. I feel very confused because I was convinced God had placed us here for a reason, for a long time, too. I feel useless and disposable - after all, what use was my career? What use was my happiness?

And yet, like the consummate doormat I've always been, I am prepared to accept it all. I am now ready to start writing a list up the top of my right sidebar of the things I need to embrace about living in Toowoomba. And I'm not going to lie. Many people have told me things that THEY will think are good for me. And I've smiled and agreed, thinking, "You have no idea what it's really like, do you?" And because Killing A Fly is my place, I'm not going to put these things on my list. I can sacrifice my own opinions on the alter of politeness while I'm talking with you, but I won't force myelf to pretend up there in my list.

And there it sits. The one solitary thing I am looking forward to. Ipswich has put on a few completely ROASTING hot days over the last week, and I know that Toowoomba, no matter how hot, is always cooler and more pleasant than Ipswich. For that, I am thankful.

I will make no mention in my sidebar of the things that rip the guts out of me regarding moving. The fact that Ipswich winters are gorgeous and Toowoomba winters are 6 months of congealed misery will hit home to us first after the move, before we get to enjoy the benefits of our first Toowoomba summer. The losses will be real. But this time, they don't get to make it into the sidebar.

For my sanity, only the good will make it onto my list. And so far, that means: The Summers.