Tonight I’ve got the blues. Worse than the Sunday blues that I had yesterday. The gloomy clouds covering our rock in the middle of the ocean is surely not helping.

We’ve recently moved to this rock in the middle of nowhere following hubby and we all arrived here in good spirits and quite optimistic about our new journey.

Every now and then though I have a moment. A moment of ‘oh crap, this is actually my new home for the time being”. Don’t get me wrong, we’re mostly happy, mostly settled but sometimes I get a super blue day like today.

I get a day that I miss my old home. I miss my pets I had to leave behind.I miss my personal stuff and furniture I’ve had to put in storage. A day that I miss my family and friends that I’ve known forever and a day. This time around it’s been more than a day, it’s been more like a week of ‘blues’. It’s been hard to admit it to myself but I’ve been feeling slightly down.

For nearly five months now I’ve been the life of the party, the self-appointed welcoming committee for new expats on our little Eden. Blogging like crazy, getting involved on the expat group, taking new arrivals in hand by arranging pop up braai’s, dinners at ours, coffee-mornings and all-around do-gooder.

And then I crashed. I spent my first birthday away from home and it kicked me in the guts. I’m NOT HOME. I’m on an island, living a life I never imagined. For this was not part of my life dream, it was a move to keep our family together, to be a unit instead of two. A practical decision for the better good of the family and hubby and me. I don’t need sympathy, I need friends that will understand. I’m not resentful and even if I am, so what? I’m not by far the only one that gets the blues, the only one that has problems she doesn’t voice because society forbids it. If you’re reading this, I’ll be fine, I’m just vocalizing my thoughts. After all, that’s what bloggers do.

I’m not unhappy, I’m not about to pack up and leave. I just think I’ve sort of tapped my emotional resources and need to refill.

The moving part was fine, the settling in was normal as could have been expected taking into account we exchanged a continent for a rock in the ocean. I find it hard having to deal with stuff back home whilst you are more than 4000 km away and smiling and waving whilst you’re doing it. The part where you cannot admit to not being able to handle all the stress without people giving you the look ‘But you live on an island, you live in paradise’, whatever could you have to complain or moan about. What people forget is that although I moved thousands of kilometres to join the family together, we still spend weeks on our own with hubby only available on email if even that.

**Yes we may live on an island and yes sometimes it’s paradise but sometimes the island just gets too small, too lonely, too strange, too everything that you aren’t used too. And yes I know, tomorrow I’ll wake up with the sun shining and the birds chirping and the blues will disappear like clouds before the sun.**

Until then I will sit here in my misery feeling sorry for myself. I’ll cuddle my Island kitties, self-pity and binge-watch NetFlix until I’m sick of being inside. I’ll recharge my batteries until the red light shines green. Then I will get up, put my war-face back on and get back to facing the world with that blinding smile. Welcoming strangers, bringing comfort, helping where I can.

Peanut & Misty our island cats

On this rock I have too much time time to have coffee, time to sit and talk, time to think and to reminice, time to run through reels of what if’s, what could have beens and what will be, time to drive mindlessly, time to walk on the beach time to read a book, work in the garden, time to blog, time to take my camera out shooting pics to please what I don’t have is; time with my family and friends, time for making new memories with those I miss I pray for your safety and well-being until the next time we meet

If you see me after reading this, don’t be scared to bring it up or just giving me a silent hug. ❀️