Re-location

Relocation was an annual ritual for the last 3 years. During my 3 years in Canberra, I had to moved every year. Only this last time, was to move out from Canberra to Sydney.

That move was tiring. It took us 3 whole days plus weeks leading up to that doing the packing and cleaning.
We hired a 3 tonne truck on the Saturday. Filled it up to the brim with the help of 3 of our friends and we only left Canberra at 10pm. Slowly drove up to Sydney, took plenty of power naps and finally reaching at 4am. Unload the next day (Sunday) with the help of his good mate. It just took 4 hrs to unload. So not fair.
We set off real early on Monday again from Sydney to Canberra to return the truck and also to give the house a good clean up before handling the key back in the afternoon. Got the carpets vacuum, drawers, toilets cleaned, kitchen wiped down and pack the rest of bits n pieces which are still lying around. We filled up our two cars to the brim. Really, Literally. The only mirror that was usable during the long drive to Sydney was the right mirror. (not that it was any useful at night)  Everything was finally done at 10pm AGAIN. We had a nice dinner at the famous Maccas just across the road from our place. Our final n last meal. haha.

We had since unpacked 50% of the things we brought here. It was a painfully slow process. Not that there were not enough space, but... well, how about say that we met some restrictions.

Asking if I had settled down here...
Surface-ly, I'd say yes.
Deep down, Hell NO.

Since moving and settling down since January 2013, I had developed depression.
That was also one reason why I now choose to let out my feelings here, instead of keeping it all in myself. Because there was no place for me here.
Everymonth, there would be days where I'll just break down into uncontrolled sadness and tears, feeling lonely, angry and frustrated.

Lonely, because I had no one whom I can call a real friend whom I can talk to at hand n be here to be with. This place where I am staying, is like a prison. I am not able to venture out, for I'll get lost in the unfamiliar streets. The only place I am able to drive with confident to, is the suburb where I get groceries and attend church. Sydney is just too big for me to handle. The new members of the so called 'family' whom I am living with now, had issues which I find so difficult to handle. It could be peaceful like a calm river, or a battle of survival like at a war zone. And often, I feel so alienated in these chaos, that I wonder why I was here at the first place.

Caring for the aging MIL was a chore. It was a chore because she is developing signs of psychological issues, such as hoarding and mental loss. And with these, came anger and frustration as we tried cleaning up the filth of the house where we now together lived in. The state of the house was appalling when we moved in. The house was decent sized I mind you. Triple story with plenty of rooms and living space and even a outdoor pool. Maybe a little too much space you'd say, for a person who had a hoarding issue.

The whole house was filled with junk.
Junks from boxes of old text books belonging to my husband and his siblings back in their Primary school days, boxes of clothes from they were babies, magazines subscriptions of way back when and some were still in their original untouched wrapper. The collection could even be better than the archives in the museums.   Heaps of used envelopes collections in boxes, bags of big pile of shopping plastic bags (some annoyingly stored in biodegradable plastic bags), piles of take away containers, news papers and other paper junks.
Dirty old rags which lined the floor with bags of other clean rags still storing in the cupboard....
Worse of all, the place was so unkempt  that the floors of the house was layered by a thick layered of dust n grit, that one cannot bear to walk barefooted. A clean pathway lines the area where people most walked (which is the middle of the path). Every 5 steps on the stairs, I had to empty my vacuum cleaner. The carpets had not been cleaned for the past 10 yrs.
Couches, coffee tables, cupboard doors, pictures frame, doors and frames and even the wall, were covered in mould. How can one live in such filth?
I am angry and frustrated at the laziness of the occupants and the attitude I had to dealt with. Everything, from the free news papers, the rags on the floor, plastic shopping bags with holes in them to the wilted flower that hangs on the vase had a sentimental value. And it had to 'stay' in the house.

To date, we had chuck out 180 kg of paper materials to the recycling during our first dump trip Plus 3/4 of that same thing on the 2nd trip PLUS 80kg AGAIN on the last trip. GOOD BYE old mouldy yellow BOOKS N MAGAZINES N NEWSPAPERS AND BOXES!
Behold, this was only the tip of the ice-berg. And it was only successful after many arguments plus some form of threatening.

However, I am slowly loosing the battle.
The 4 months of mental and physical stress had a bad impact on my physical and mental health.
I can no longer tolerate and stay calm, looking at the pile of junk n useless stuff. Now it just... stays...

I don't have a say. The hoarding tendency is too strong among the family. Even if it's something useless, like the big plate of molded dried petals. They are not able to just...let go. I think I had to learn too, to just... let go.

I could not wait to move out from this place. I have little corners in the house, where I have my little spaces to clear my head and keep up the lives here.

So, please do pray for me. Pray that I will be able to stay sane in this insane place. Pray that I will keep my patience and kindness to the people I had to dealt with daily in such close proximity. Pray that with the strength of Jesus, I will continue to keep in faith and never loose hope of the Hope that is to come.

And also, please do pray for Eric as he struggles with me and uni work. Pray that he will be loving and understanding.

kcan.