Days until travel - 5
So the past two days have been interesting ones.
And by interesting, I mean emotional.
On Monday, I said my goodbyes to MORE people. It was incredibly draining, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Firstly there was James in the morning, then Trudi, Kate and Danny at lunch time.
In the evening, it was the one I was dreading and looking forward to the most. A person who is very special to me, probably more so than they realise.
We went for drinks first of all and it was great to just have a nice time on our own over a few alcoholic beverages. In-jokes, p*ss taking and all the stuff we haven't enjoyed doing together in a while. (And as I type that, I realise we won't be doing it for a least a year now. Sad).
But as we walked towards the car I had this wave of fear hit me smack in the face and I realised it was time to say goodbye. Even now, remembering it, makes tears well in my eyes and my throat get tight.
We clung on in a hug which was probably a lot longer than it felt. But to me it only lasted a few seconds. My arms didn't want to let go and tears poured down my face and I didn't care who saw. I watched the car pull away and I felt like everything happy inside me was being driven away with it.
When I got home, I shut the door and collapsed on the sofa and cried solidly for about 30mins. And I don't just mean a few tears - it was that sort of crying I haven't done since I was a child. Where you just bawl and bawl and you can't breathe and you feel like your face is going to ache forever.
After a VERY long time, the tears subsided, but my head hurt with thinking about everything which is about to happen. It made me question if what I'm doing will be worth it.
Okay, I know this all sounds a bit over dramatic, but I'm just telling it like it was. I'm not the soap opera type, but this week has made me feel like I've been hit by a bus.
And by that, I mean emotionally AND physically.
Because today was moving day.
After a personal training session yesterday (ANOTHER goodbye hug FYI) my limbs were already at breaking point, so running up and downstairs trying not to trip over a depressive and confused pug wasn't exactly the "recovery" you're supposed to have after the gym.
Managed to get it all in two cars and head to Doncaster, (more tears on the car journey) which is where I am currently typing now.
Over my shoulder, out of the corner of my eye, I can see a pile of boxes that need sorting, files that need going through and shoes and handbags my mum wants me to be ruthless with (the charity shop can f**k off - they're mine!)
All the unpacking was made slightly LESS fun (like it was fun in the first place!) by the fact I'd taken my first dose of malaria tablets.
Imagine if you'd swallowed a small alien, who happened to be armed with a set of sharp knives. It literally took 5 minutes for it to get into my system before I was on the floor in agony, face sweating and stomach feeling like a miniature World War Three was being acted out inside me. For a solid hour I couldn't move and I actually considered making myself sick to end the torture.
(Incidentally, Room 101 is on TV. I'd like to put malaria tablets in Room 101 please Frank Skinner).
But eventually I decided I had too much to do, so put on some happy songs on my iPhone and tried to ignore the pain.
When that didn't work, I tried wine.
I can't wait to take my next tablet tomorrow. I fully expect to be dead by this time Wednesday evening if today's agony was anything to go by.
I can't believe in five days time Fay and I will be setting off on our massive adventure. (I'm trying to end on a lighter note).
Hopefully tomorrow I'll post the full itinerary for you to read. Please feel free to tell me how jealous you are in the comments.
On that note, I'm off in the bath to sooth my poor stomach ache and catch up on some Bubble Safari!
Joke for today - What do you call a woman in the distance? Dot.