I’ve not written one of these for a while, mostly because, post-Paris, I’ve been busy and feeling pretty much okay. I still can’t go anywhere on my own, but Paris did what Paris does and energised me and inspired me. I’ve been busy writing. And writing. And writing some more. I mean, really. I’ve written half a novel since Christmas. I was going great guns and then . . .
I’ve been comfortable in the flat we currently live in and we were quite happy to stay here for some years to come. This bout of agoraphobia started shortly after moving here, so it really feels like my safe space. Of course, right now is the time for my landlord to tell us he wants us to move out.
In fairness, we can sort of see why. There are some repairs that would require us not to be here and the carpets are about 15 years old, threadbare and need replacing. Doing that sort of thing really needs us not to be here.
Of course, that is the rational approach.
My irrational side is, of course, going mental. I have to leave my space of comfort, go to a new house and learn to navigate the area there. I could take months. Except.
There’s another spanner in the works.
We have a house in Leeds that we bought while I was at university. When Andy’s work dried up, he had to come back to Southampton. Naturally, when I finished my degree, I moved back too. We rented in Southampton and rented the house in Leeds out to pay the mortgage.
I was always unhappy about moving from Leeds. That house was bought with the intention of it being the house we retired in. The flat in Southampton is comfortable. The house in Leeds is safe and comfortable.
We had a message from the people renting our house this week. They said they would like to buy our house. After discussing it, we decided that we can’t really turn it down, even though we’re likely to lose a lot of money on the sale.
Given the work situation, we know that however much we want it, we’re not going to be able to move back to Leeds. As much as it hurts, we’re going to sell the house. And worse, my beautiful hand-crafted bespoke kitchen.
This leaves us in a bit of a nightmare situation. If we have to move out of this flat and sell the house in Leeds, in all probability, given the length of time sorting a house sale out takes, we’re going to be homeless for six weeks or more. We’ll probably have to find a short rent place for a few weeks and this brings with it some fairly horrible problems.
One house move will traumatise me enough into not leaving the house for several weeks. Two house moves in the space of six weeks? There is real likelihood is that my psyche will royally fuck me over and make leaving the house impossible for a very long time. Certainly, during the physical process of both moves, I’m likely to be foetal and useless. I always have a problem with house moves, even when not during a bout of agoraphobia, but this situation horrifies me more than even I can comprehend.
We made the decision to sell the house on Wednesday. I’ve had maybe six hours sleep since then. Not all consecutive. I have another five, maybe six months or more of this before getting into my new house and starting again. I don’t even know where abouts we’ll be going.
Right now, there is no such thing as ‘safe’.
The next few months will be uncertain and scary. If ever I needed my friends . . .