This morning, I shaved my legs.
I know, I know, what an opening line for a blog-post, Las. Is this how bad your writers block is that you can’t possibly write about something interesting that isn’t an overshare?
Well. Let me tell you, if you knew how much of an achievement this is for me? You’d be giving me hi-fives aaaaaall up in this place.
Living in India, I had a bath every two-to-three days, I’d stick on at least one, though more often than not, two, of my Perfectly Posh facemasks, kick back in a deliciously hot and bubbly tub – that wasn’t quite wide enough, but was blissfully deep. I’d shave my legs, sometimes deep condition my hair, admire my beautifully manicured toes and generally, without fail, lose an hour of my life to social media – which, by all accounts, should absolutely have been better spent reading something better than parenting memes on Facebook, but, there you have it. That was my deal. Every few days. Living without a chiropractor meant a higher volume of baths in a vein attempt to help my back. Altering heat and ice, soaking my muscles, but I mostly just enjoyed allotting an hour of relaxation and self care.
I’ve never been girly-girly. I never learned how to apply make up, I never wore dresses, or showed my legs to need to shave them, my fallen arches made walking in high-heels more akin to cruel and unusual punishment than anything else, and my wardrobe, until recent years, resembled that of a college kids.
Over the last few years all of that changed. Ok, ok, FINE. Almost none of that changed, save for the wardrobe and the leg shaving – though, until today, I hadn’t shaved my legs, or had my nails done since two days before I left India, seven weeks ago. It’s almost been as long since I’ve used a facemask and I’ve had maybe two baths in that whole time (no, I’ve not turned in to a hobo, I’ve just been favouring showers here), I hadn’t given much thought as to why. I have been doing better in other areas, I’ve been visiting Dr Jo for chiropractic adjustments twice a week, every week without fail, drinking more water, eating better and more regularly, I took up Yoga classes twice a week.
Some of you will relate, but damn it’s exhausting ensuring ones own survival.
Every. Single. Day.
There’s a condition called ‘sub-drop’ in the BDSM community, sub-drop is technically classified as a major depressive episode, and, as such, you treat it as one. You can’t just tell someone to snap out of it. You can’t tell yourself to snap out of it either. Basically, sub-drop is caused by an adrenaline and endorphin crash after a ‘scene’.
Why am I talking about kinks on my blog?
Well. I fully believe that there’s a condition that should be coined, called ‘Expat Drop’ that has a similar effect on people to that of sub-drop (though you don’t encounter it the same way! LOL!)
When the buzz of moving to a new country has worn off and you hit that crash?
Expat drop.
When your shipment has finally arrived and you’ve unpacked all your boxes?
Expat drop.
When your family members come to visit for two weeks and then leave and you gotta stay?
Expat drop.
When you go on vacation, or visit your home country and you go back to your host country?
Expat drop.
I’m absolutely convinced it’s a thing.
Col got made redundant in October last, I mean, you’d think we’d be happy that we get to leave India at last, right? You’d think we’d be happy to move ‘home’ after so long away, or that we’d be glad to be surrounded by all things ‘familiar’?
Except we aren’t.
We aren’t surrounded by all things familiar. Nor people, familiar. And it’ll come as no shock to anyone, nor am I particularly happy to be back. This country and the people we know in it, aren’t the same country and people we left ten years ago (sixteen for Col!!)
It’s been hard.
Everything is different.
The climate is cold, wet and dark. I’ve lived in hot and sunny countries for a decade. I’m not used to it being dark when I get up in the morning, and by 4pm in the afternoon. Streetlights coming on at 2.30pm. While I make jokes about it, it’s really not funny. It’s totally bringing my vibe down, to the point I’m considering spending a hellish amount of money on a weighted blanket and SAD lamp to try and pick up my spirits in this third floor apartment with minimal natural light – that is, when there is any natural light to be had anyways.
I’m driving myself around. I love my car, Beitris – don’t get me wrong, I do, she’s a beaut. But Lewis isn’t adapting particularly quickly to the fact that we don’t have Sachin driving us around any more. He seems to miss the fact that we have to concentrate on getting from A to B and not getting us all killed. He wants us to look at things, listen to things and do complex algebraic equations, while simultaneously learning Arabic and juggling 12 balls at the same time – all while trying to navigate the Westlink rush hour traffic in a bit to complete the Hunger Games and advance to the next level. It’s frustrating, and no amount of ‘Sweetheart, I’m trying to drive and mama needs to concentrate on the road’ seems to be shutting him up!!
The food is different. My wardrobe is different (I’m willing the shipping container with all our crap on it to go faster). My social life is different – gone are the days of walking from C tower to D tower, hitting two, or twelve in the elevator and landing at the door to one of my best friends. Gone are the days of ‘hey, I’ve had a hard day and I’m opening wine, who’s in?’. Gone are the days of ‘Who wants to go to indoor play?’ and having half a dozen kids to play with Lewis and mamas to chat to me.
Timing to talk to friends in other countries is different. UK to India is a HORRIBLE time difference, when Lewis gets up in the morning, his friends aren’t home from school yet, and when he’s home from school, his friends are going to bed. Skyping is hard.
Col not working, is different.
I’m looking for opportunities and trying to decide what to do with my life – that’s different.
Every single facet of my life, is currently drastically different to that which it was only a short seven weeks ago (Dios Mio it feels like so much more!) Not just a little different. But, like, EPICALLY different.
I am, and have been, experiencing Expat Drop.
Some days the grieving for my ‘old life’ is overwhelming, and, truth be told, if it hadn’t been for both my sister and my Bestie Liz getting me out of the house, including me in their day to day lives, poking me when I get quiet etc, I’d have wound up in a far darker place than I am. I can’t thank them both enough. Lewis has a best friend in his cousin, and Liz has listened to my wheelbarrow loads of crap almost daily. Poor girl.
Some moments have been dark. Col hasn’t ever dealt with mental health issues, so he thinks that getting out and meeting people will pull me out of my funk. But, unfortunately, it’s just not that simple.
Case in point? I’ve met a bunch of people lately, and I still hadn’t found the inner strength to climb Everest and shave my damn legs.
To be fair, I have been getting out and meeting people, this month I’ve joined a Monday and Wednesday Yoga class here in Larne, and while I’m the youngest in attendance by a country mile, I’m not averse to making friends with older-than-me ladies, so I’m trying to keep an open mind. I’ve joined an already existing Expat group here in NI and am helping it grow its membership with the creation of a Facebook group. I attended a meet-up group and met a couple more new friends.
We’ve started to work on some travel plans, we’ve booked a couple weekends across the way, one to visit Lewis’ Godfather and his family in Scotland, one to London – for fun, and the third, to London to see our friends from India who relocated to London.
We’ve been Marie Kondo-ing the crap out of the house (before anyone had ever heard of her, too) in preparation for the 99 boxes headed this way. Making space, donating to charity, throwing out things we really should have thrown out a decade ago.
It’s all forward motion. It is.
Baby steps. Small, steady, consistent changes merit big results.
But part of me is still struggling, it’s not fun, it’s not pretty and it’s certainly not something I can ignore or expect to resolve quickly. Some days I am absolutely fine and function like a ‘typical’ human being. But, some days? Some days I don’t want to drink water, or eat three meals, hell, some days I just want to sit unwashed in my pjs, binge watch Netflix series, eat chocolate washed down by litres of coke zero in the comfort and safety of my quilt fort.
So yes. Today I shaved my legs.
AND I threw a facemask on before I hit the shower. And YES! These small and seemingly frivolous or meaningless things that should be done, or you do without any hassle? Today, for me, they are considered achievements. Because that’s just how things roll for me right now.
Yesterday, I had my friend Eimear paint my nails on a whim. I messaged her and fifteen minutes later I was at her door picking a colour.
It’s all in the little things.
Some days are worse than others, some days I miss my tribe in Houston, or India with every thump-thump of my heart. Some days I consider buying a house next door to Liz so I can drive her round the bend and basically call around every day to drink tea and do writing sprints. Some days I feel like I can conquer the universe and break glass ceilings.
Today?
Today was the latter.
Because I finally shaved my frickin’ legs.
