Before I the thought had even registered in my mind, I felt it slipping out my mouth and heard the words as if hearing the idea for the first time. Reaching for my phone, which was precariously perched on the windowsill as to catch a few bars of reception, I uttered, “oh come on, someone please distract me from my life.”
Strange. But it makes such sense now.
I’m in a phase of waiting and I can’t stand it. I’m literally just watching the hours tick by and there is still 2 weeks to go. I’ve just quit my job, which for this role means I’ve just quit my community as well. I will be relocating home soon, but for now I’m stuck in a limbo. I just checked my email for probably the 15th time today and it’s not even 10am, no emails anyway.
When you leave a place or a job (in my case I’m doing both at once) your subconscious throws a mental switch, without consultation with the rest of your mind, and begins to syphon all emotional investment out of the situation. It’s good actually, as it allows you to move on without feeling like there is a huge gaping hole in your life, but once you stop caring it’s pretty hard not to just stare at your phone waiting for a distraction.
It’s a limbo. You are between homes, between caring. The family you’ve established here need to move on without you and you need to let them. The family you will return to (I say family in the broad sense of extended family made up of blood relations, friends, lovers) have been living without you for this long, the space you left behind has been shrunk like a wooly jumper in the dryer and you will need to spend the next few months trying to stretch back into it and make it fit. It’s not going to fit like before, but it’s warm and comforting and I’d rather not buy a new one just yet if you follow my metaphor.
Still no emails. Still no messages. But I suppose at this time on a Monday morning most people are trying to get some work done, not figure out if it’s too soon for their 3rd cup of coffee. Where did the motivation go? It’s already there, in Brisbane I guess, already spending time with my family and friends, enjoying the perks of civilization after so long in the bush, already settling into our new life. Bastard. I’m still here, waiting out the last few weeks of my obligations.
I’m sitting in my office only a 2 minute drive from the crystal waters of the Torres Strait. I’m literally spending my last two weeks in paradise and all I can think is can someone please distract me from my waiting. This place is my home. Was my home. I’m moving back to where my family is, so I suppose that should be home again now. To be honest I don’t really know. It’s in limbo too.
It’s 10:28am, still no messages from my either motivation or emotional investment, because the selfish bastards are off enjoying their new home already. Still no messages from this place either.
Two weeks. Just 15 days and I’ll be in the air, the last moment of limbo before my new home.
…Two weeks, but who’s counting?
*I sent this piece to my sister on the day I wrote it, and she replied with the most wonderful response in the universe…
“I’m counting!!! I’ve been moving that jumper around to every house with me and bringing it out for the special occasions when you come home.”