I'm finally sat down long (and stable minded) enough to write about that dark dark night that so many Chicagoians experienced on Monday.
I now find it ironic that Monday's post began as it did:
"On a dark dark night
In a dark dark land
Where the thunder rolled
Destroying all we planned"
That it did. But, this time it wasn't just the barbecue plans that were scuppered.
I had literally just finished writing that post when The Husband got up to go check the basement to make sure there wasn't any water leaking in anywhere with the heavy rain. I hadn't even published it, and he quickly called me down to help.
I went down to find him grabbing a mop as there was a small stream of water, pouring steadily through the back door frame. I fetched towels, but it was too late. The water was coming in faster than we could stop it, and then the drain in the utility room floor, and the shower in the downstairs bathroom backed up! The toilet was bubbling in readiness to add to what was quickly turning into the worst experience of my life to date.
Our bedroom was downstairs, and luckily TH's parents are visiting, and his Dad was able to rescue pretty much all of our stuff out of the room before anything got ruined.
All we could do was watch helplessly as the basement of the home which we have lived in for a week quickly filled with unsanitary liquid, while the rest of the house which had our belongings scattered haphazardly, quickly became a cluttered mess. No fun when you suffer with OCD and things have to have their own place, and be away neatly.
It was awful. It is still awful. I have a trip back to the UK coming up this weekend, and I really don't want to come back to this house or the storms that seem to riddle this country.
I'm trying to think of every which way to break the lease of this house. As renters, we face a year in this hell house and I just want out. While it has been a godsend having the in-laws here it has also been a nuisance because I can't just do or say what I want to say. I can't have proper discussions with TH, because they might hear and it's frustrating.
What's the worst is some people's responses to my outburst that I want to go home. They think I'm just homesick. What they don't know is I never wanted to come to America. I agreed to come, and give it a try. It doesn't mean I want to be here, and I haven't wanted to be here since I arrived.
Unfortunately the job market is so poor in England that TH couldn't return when he was supposed to, and I didn't want to be the one to make him him lose his job. That's why I came, plus the fact that I could give my autistic son a chance of better support than the UK.
I've agreed to two years, then review further down the line. Sure I've shared statuses and photos of what we have been up to with friends and family on Facebook, but I haven't shared the bad days, or the bad times. The isolation, the tears when I've been overwhelmed. I don't share those moments.
When I talk to people back home? I don't share the bad times. I intimate the good times, but the dark stuff stays locked behind. Why would people believe that I am going through a shitty time, when we are somewhere as amazing as America? Why would I write how bad a time I'm having, when so many people think I am a lucky one?
I told the Mother in law how I had been struggling, and it just got brushed aside. Well, everybody has to adjust to change when they move somewhere new kind of attitude... It was impossible for TH to come back... There's no work for him in England. Sit back down and no meddling in his career.
My Dad was similar. I mustn't put pressure on TH to give up and go home. His job is important and he's valued at his company blah blah. Him, him him. Everybody is worried about him. Myself included.
It's okay! I only changed my entire world to come here and support his job. People don't need to tell me how important his fucking job is. I know. The job is everything. The job. The job made him move out here. The job made me move out here. The job is changing it's office so we changed our house to one we can just about afford so he can get to the office to his job. The job is the reason I am in hell struggling to settle in a land where it's hard to meet people, where I have not a single friend and it's the jobs fault we are tied into a fucking tenancy agreement, in an over priced house where a third of the living space is unusable because it flooded.
For three years I put up with a barely there long distance relationship, supported by email, Facebook and Skype. I changed my life to make our lives better and they're not. So for people to turn and say it's his job that's important, it stinks, and it's a kick in the face. All I have done is support his job, think of his job, think of him.
When is anybody going to consider asking what it is that I want?