I really wish someone would have told me how crap this was all going to be.

For some reason I have always associated Sunday’s with pure misery, all South African’s will relate to the morbid tune of Carte Blanche playing down the corridor and your lunch box waiting on the kitchen counter like a death row inmate waiting to be picked up to await their inevitable fate. I am so dramatic.. Today is Sunday, it is 7.42 pm and I have been ill and confined to my bed for the last 2 days. Fever, headaches, body pains and a sore throat.

But this isn’t the sad part of my story. The misery is yet to come, that was just a warm up.

A few months ago, my husband and I were met with a decision, a decision to move to London. We were swayed by the promise of great wine, weather and delicious British cuisine and we decided to just DO IT for a few years and say yes to living.

So here I am, a few months on from that in a small cottage in London (with the flu), our beautiful home in Johannesburg rented out, dog waiting for rabies clearance, husband waiting for dog clearance (not rabies, don’t get the two confused like I did on a form the other day), and furniture swaying in the Atlantic Ocean somewhere.

But wow, this is tough! I don’t want to get too emotional as that is not like me, but this is by far the toughest experience I have ever had to endure. I am trying very hard not to lose my sense of humour, and if you know me at all, you will know that this will be the last thing to go. When I start writing poems and odes to my former self – send help.

The stress and anxiety leading up to the move has been exhausting, I can try and surmount it as the feeling of being in constant trauma due to deliberately putting yourself into deep waters with huge waves of change and thrashing thunder and lightning with no raft, Evian water or beach in sight.  Everyone always says that change is inevitable, and yes, I do agree but there comes a point where putting yourself into change and into this ocean brings about a whole new set of emotions. There is this feeling of “well you did this to yourself so now you deal with it, alone by yourself, totally alone” sort of agony. And then when the massive wave of change isn’t enough, you have a lot of other emotions to deal with…..lets introduce the other contestants…loneliness, regret, homesickness and of course the familiar favourite and everyone’s Uncle, anxiety!

I am in week 4 now and doggo and hubby are arriving in 6 weeks (order of importance is intentional) but I miss them both SO much it makes my heart physically hurt, the sun will come out, I will meet my neighbors and our stuff will arrive and not be covered in dead fish and sea water (there is Uncle anxiety at 2am coming for you)…and everything will be ok…I don’t think I will be incredible for quite a few months as I have been told to expect 6 months of total hell and broad spectrum panic until I start to feel settled and do not wake up screaming during the night.

Until then, I will distract myself with things that will make me feel human. I have written you a list, it isn’t exhaustive. I have a full PDF I am happy to share if you DM me.

• I joined the local library, its very warm and cosy inside. They do not serve hot beverages for free, I did check that and you need to pay.
• I purchased an inflatable bath on Amazon, as my cottage only has 2 showers. Judge all you like, but I will have the last laugh with my unicorn bath bomb from Lush.
• I make sure my only friend here has regular pyjama parties with me (thanks friend, you know who you are, I appreciate you xx)
• I wonder the aisles of Marks and Spencers looking for happiness.
• I eat Victoria Sponge cake.
• I’m waiting for the yoga studio down the road to open after renovations.
• I distract myself with work, work is grounding and I love seeing all my happy colleagues faces – and the humour is there, we have a laugh.
• I drink a lot of tea.

Until such time as this is my new normal, ill be ok and just like my feeling of blueness on a Sunday and being alone will lift, so will my flu and the lining of my inflatable amazon bathtub – I hope the flu goes first.

Happy Sunday.

From Mel, in London