A week of disasters - cathartic?

The last week has been pure hell. But at the same time it’s very cathartic. I don’t tend to deal with any ‘issues’ troubling me when I’m happy and healthy. But I’ve discovered in this last week that there really is a bottom to the pit and that once you reach it, the things you thought you once couldn’t touch with a ten-foot barge pole become strangely approachable.

In this last week I have hit bottom. I discovered that my plans for my life were not compatible with the UK government’s plans and as a result my life has been turned upside down. Where I was intent on staying, I now have to leave. On top of this I discovered I have to have an operation to fix my thumb as I managed to chip a bone and damage a ligament in it and I won’t get the strength back without surgery. I also have to move out of my comfortable home, which I now can’t afford, requiring packing that my thumb does not like at all. I have lost my job here, because they need someone to do the work and I won’t be around, and so I now have to interview my own replacement. I have caught the latest of a very long line of colds that has me shaking and dizzy with every minor exertion, also not good for this packing lark. I have rampant eczema and tension headaches from the stress of all this and I’ve been grinding my teeth so I’ve lost a filling which is damn painful. I actually do have somewhere to stay in Aus but no job there, so I’m expecting to go on a rabid job hunt when I get over the jetlag. And if, when I go back, I am successful in my application for a visa for this country, I will have to do all the packing and job hunting again when I return back here. Not to mention that I will have to survive three winters in a row. My flatmate is unhappy, my work is unhappy, my bank account is unhappy, my body is unhappy, and I am unhappy.

It’s been a crap week.

So what have I been doing? Not concentrating on the good these challenges will bring, nor (any longer) getting drunk every evening to blot it all out. No, I’ve been investigating the depths of my psyche and uncovering all of the very painful and uncomfortable things I‘ve hidden there, if you please. And, wonder of wonders, although they are indeed distressing, bitter, agonizing and shameful memories, I may actually be making some headway along the path towards dealing with them, and putting them to rest. When you’re crying anyway, what’s one more reason to be unhappy? I would have thought I’d be too overwhelmed and too depressed to crawl out of bed. Instead I’m just mightily fed up and want to get it all over and done with. And I’m dealing with some unfinished business along the way. Yay me!

I will admit that earlier this week I was thinking that the Universe owed me a big one. Now I think it’s done me a favour. Very odd.