How do you feel?

This is probably the one question everyone is asking this week. And of course while I can only speak for myself, and quite what the children feel is a bit of a mystery (see below), the answer is I don’t know. I feel everything. All the feelings. Sometimes all at the same time and sometimes in waves: a swell of one emotion followed by a surge of another.

I’m feeling….

Unapproachable

We keep asking the children how they feel. We get a range of answers from “uh” to “dunno“. The thing is they clearly do feel something (they must, mustn’t they?) but either they’re choosing not to share it with us or they don’t have the words to do so. For a family that has always tried to be both open and articulate that feels somewhat disappointing.

They don’t look too miserable to be leaving school at least.

Magnus alone is a bit more responsive, but only really on the subject of volcanoes. We’ve managed to convince him he should be ok in the Netherlands.

Pre-emptive nostalgia

It’s a beautiful morning, and I have been watching the brds in the garden. The bullfinches (always my favourites) were fiery peaches in the tree outside the kitchen. As I watched I was conscious that I was somehow already missing them (and so much else) despite still being here.

Is there a word for this? There must be in some languages.

Excited

And oddly that feeling is still with me, while at the moment, I’m excited. No, really. I am. You know that psychologial trick that grown ups (ie anyone else) try to play on you before an exam or somewhere you have to speak in public? When they say “Tell yourself you’re not nervous, you’re excited. Those butterflies aren’t utter terror, they’re anticipation“? That thing? Well, oddly, for the first time in my life, it’s working.

Excited? Us?

I don’t normally get excited about holidays in advance. There’s too much to do and I’m normally too taken up with packing and sorting and cancelling the milk and I-don’t-know-where-your-teddy-is,-probably-where-you-left-it to get excited until we’ve actually left the house, got to the airport on time, checked in and no one has been sick. Yet now, when I stop, and think about what we are about to do. I am. I am really excited. Can’t wait to get going.

Uncharacteristically brave

Which is possibly because what we are doing is so utterly out of character. I am absolutely not a flout convention, throw caution to the wind, leave our jobs and go travelling sort of person. This is the sort of thing that people I look at in astonished admiration do. It is categorically not what I do.

Disbelieving

So I can’t really believe all sorts of things. I can’t believe we are (I am) actually doing this. I can’t believe it has come round so quickly. I can’t believe we are actually going in 3 days.

I think (and this is a tip for anyone else thinking that they might do this) that the massively long lead time has helped with all of that. I am absolutely certain that if we had come up with this plan in August, which is when I actually booked the first tickets for this trip (the return flights, of course), I would have said (rather less calmly than that implies) that it was impossible to plan, got into a panic and refused to go. But the drip, drip, drip incremental planning and pondering, over eight simultaneously long and very fast years, has allowed me to get my head around it, stifle the voice that says, “You can’t” and actually go.

Still don’t quite believe it though.

Anxious

Sometimes every direction feels like the wrong direction.

That voice is a bit of a constant for me. It turns out that (deep breath) I suffer from anxiety. In my case this means that despite outward appearances, I have NOT GOOD ENOUGH running through me like a stick of rock. I am terrified of not doing enough, of letting people down, of failing. And every time I do fall short, it feels meant and inevitable, the natural consquence of my inability to do the right thing. And thus the cycle turns. I don’t mention it much, not so much because I’m ashamed (although I am a bit – it is, after all not good enough that I feel like this; I should be better, more grateful for the luck and love I have) but because (and I realise the irony in this) I am very conscious of the many people out there who suffer much worse than I do. I hesitate to call what I have anxiety for fear that they will feel that I am comparing myself with them. I may be anxious but am I anxious enough..?

I did it too. But no one took my picture.

So this trip is a bit of a test. There are, after all, so many reasons it could go wrong. So many potential catastrophes I can imagine and mentally torture myself with. So many disaster scenarios I can concoct in my head. I am, as we are telling Magnus with his volcano worries (are his fears my fault?) just having to feel the fear and do it anyway.

In control

Things really get on top of me when they don’t go to plan, or when I feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the unending (and clearly three-dimensional) to do list.

But (thanks to the last-month-chart-of-doom) I am feeling oddly, and unexpectedly, in control. (Honestly, I have been apologising to Ben for months about how awful I am going to be this week, and I don’t think I am at all – he of course may disagree)

Nervous

This of course makes me nervous. If I’m not madly rushing around doing things, that must be because I’ve forgotten something. We can’t surely be actually in control, can we? (Famous last words, tempting fate, touching wood….)

The daily to do chart for January (as at about yesterday lunchtime). See how much we have crossed off.

Positive

But, on balance, I do, I think, with both arms on the wooden table, bottom on the wooden seat, and eyes nervously scanning the windows for magpies, feel positive. If I’m terrified of anything at the moment, it’s that something might happen that means we can’t go.

I’m ready for this – rooms are emptied, a million conversations have been had, the “quiet” drink in the pub was last night.

Let’s do this. Watch out world…

Harriet

 

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16 Comments

  1. Go and have a wonderful experience, and make so precious memories to treasure xx

  2. Now I feel guilty that you don’t feel good enough! It must be my fault. Let me absolutely assure you that you are MORE than good enough!

  3. I am in awe, would be anxious too but know you’ll have a truly amazing time. What an experience for all of you. I’m super excited about following you too! Courage lovely Harriet – you’ve got this

    B xx

  4. Lots of content here to comment on, but I find myself pondering what a 3-dimensional to-do list looks like. Would work on the side of the fridge, would it?

  5. I meant “wouldn’t work”. Been so long since I was an active blogger that I now can’t even write a comment without a mistake in it.

  6. H is for heroine.

    In every way.

  7. May I echo “Mummy’s” words and say if anyone is good enough, you are, and much more than good enough … supermum, fab Parent Council Chair, setter up and organiser of charity quizzes et al, sterling supporter to Jane and I on days(or was it weeks? months? – rosy glow from retirement makes one lose perspective!) when we just couldn’t get it right!
    Aside from living all these amazing experiences, I think of the children reading this blog fondly, many years from now when they are all grown up. Go,Team Campbell! xx

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