A Continuation

But I was wrong. I moved to Plymouth in April 2019 (my fiancé had moved in in March) and I was really excited to begin my adulting life, just us two. And to be fair life was going rather well to begin with, we were both loving our jobs and loving living together and being independent from everything. We enjoyed a date night once a month and lazed in at the weekends. 

However, deep down routed inside I was having an argument with myself. On the outside, I was very happy. On the inside, I was weeping. I was very homesick and felt very isolated, because let's face it, the only person I knew was my fiancé; and yes I had got to know people at work, but everybody will agree there's like this invisible line between work friends and social friends, where you talk to them at work but then don't contact them outside of work. 

It was also starting to get difficult at home. As my fiancé had explained the nature of his job, it meant he would be working 12 hours a day 4 days a week. Two of those 4 days were night shifts which meant that if his rota-ed shifts took meant he worked Monday to Friday morning, I would only see him for two of those days since I too was working. 

As I said above I wouldn't get to see him that much. But the night shifts were more difficult, because I don't know if anybody has ever experienced this but when it's night time and you're by yourself you begin to overthink everything. It could just be me, but if you've never experienced this I will tell you it is like a deep dark spiral. I found myself too often doing this, and I could feel myself spiralling but no matter how positively I tried to think, I just kept falling.

This again wasn't made any easier with my family. That sounds awful but let me explain. So, my amazing Mum who lost her job and went to university for the first time when I did and created such wonderful art works and did amazing with her grades, had just had an operation on her hand for I think it was ligament damage (I could be wrong so standby for a correction in my next post). Anyways, the operation was a success but she then started having problems with breathing, and her heart would beat too fast and she would get fatigued quickly. This led to numerous panic attacks, one of which I witnessed as we moved things down earlier in April, and let me tell you it's soul destroying to see the strongest woman you know have a panic attack.

So she went to the doctors to figure out what the heck was happening and it turns out that the hand operation had triggered an underlying heart problem that she'd had for years but hadn't known about. So she began a year of sick leave from work, banned from driving and put on many tablets. This spiralled me further and led me to chewing my skin when I had no nails left to bite. But apart from being tired all the time and having to keep taking these tablets, she was ok in herself. She got Netflix and watched nearly everything on there, so my weekly phone call home besides asking how she was doing, consisted of her telling me about the new TV series she'd started that morning and finished by the afternoon. Occasionally there was a film thrown in the mix too. And I won't lie, I don't think I've watched anything she's recommended. Sorry.

We got Peeves in August to keep me company while my fiancé was on nights and to cheer me up when I was feeling down, much like a therapy dog... a therapy hamster we should call him. And for the moment it was working. I found that Peeves liked to watch Doctor Who and wasn't really a fan of The Crown, or at least he wasn't until it got dramatic. He was and still is the best little bud I've had...