“You all packed?”
“Hell no, I have to go to the tip yet, take down the Christmas lights, phone the dishwasher repair man, take two chinchillas to the vet, clean out the fridge, get my car cleaned, do a food shop, Hoover the spare bedroom, write 16 over due reviews, drop something off to my granny, book the kennels for the dog in the summer and tidy away a pile of clothes on my bedroom floor first”
This scenario has been repeated several times this week. Playing out the list I have written in front of me of things I need to before I fly to Jordan tomorrow. The list that is also in my head of other things that need to be done but are quick so don’t need to be written down but there are a million of them.
Packing is so far down my list that it is likely to be done at 6am tomorrow morning before we leave at 10am. In fact somethings may well be dragged, still damp out of the tumble drier and thrown in my bag. The hope being I can hang them up in my hotel room to finish drying before they get that musty aroma.
Why? Why am I doing this?
The answer is I have no idea but somehow it helps keep my anxiety levels in check.
In the past few years I have become increasingly anxious about the most ridiculous things. Walking into a room of strangers? Nope. Can’t do it. Parking in a car park I don’t know? No thanks, I will get a cab. I am rubbish at reality nowadays. A trait many people will be surprised to hear about and say
what? You?! But you are just about to fly to the corner of four war zones, how can you be suffering from anxiety if you can do that?
Because somehow that feels different.
And the only way I can do that is to go into overdrive with the organisation of things at home. I have to make sure the fridge is cleaned out. The idea that Mr B might find that lemon covered in blue fur that I just turfed out is too much. Imagining the kids will open the fridge and not instantly see something for dinner is something I cannot do. Beyond my comprehension is the idea that there is tumble drier fluff on the floor in the spare bedroom.
My family are more than capable of looking after themselves. Deep down i know that. And having a tidy house or a full fridge is not something they expect me to arrange. So why do I do it? Guilt at leaving them for a week to go on the next charitable mission? Probably.
I have spent all week working whilst slowly trying to cross those things off my list. Thankfully Jonnie has offered to do as many as he can for me today but that still leaves me with stuff he can’t do.
Like working out where the hell I have put my passport.
I must add that to the list