I have wanted to die.
I have felt like I was dying.
But I did not, of course. Too easy, I guess.
It's just that five years of waiting, and loving, and shutting up and keeping my cool and hoping against hope that things would work out in a fairytale-ending kind of way turned out to be a complete bust. As it was always going to. But I had to try. It's what I believed in. It's what my daughter believed in. Even the dog was in on it. Now, of course, I just feel like an idiot. A demoralized, exhausted fool, who stubbornly refused to even plan for this eventuality, on the grounds that it might have undermined my faith.
I have no plans, immediate or otherwise, to commit suicide. And that's On The Record, guys, so you can stop calling me. Not that I don't appreciate it, you understand. But if I could have a dollar for every time I hear that anxious tone in people's voices....
Actually, I used the time when I wasn't crying, or taking the Lord's name most grievously in vain, to finish the Big Bear for the exhibition.
So, it would appear that Life Goes On. But we are leaving where we currently live and will be heading off into the Wide Blue Yonder just as soon as we possibly can. Well, sort of, anyway. Heading for a more rustic, poetic life, no doubt attended by absurd levels of bone-crushing poverty. Because we are Proud Like That.
And though we may find ourselves sincerely regretting the absolute finality of our actions from time to time - especially while I'm sitting in the queue at Centrelink waiting to hear what options I haven't got to choose from - we will still, if only in our hearts, be free.
And that's a Good Thing.
And I'll be taking my brand new laptop with me, of course. Thank God for the blog, and all who read it.
And thank you to Judi, for taking the photos.