I’m trying to fall asleep. In vain.
I’m lying here in bed, trying to type away the nerves…my dog beside me (yes, in my bed). It’s our last night together and I am absolutely gutted. I’m trying to be excited about tomorrow, but right now I just don’t want the sun to come up. I want to stay here with my boy and forget about flying across the ocean tomorrow to a place I do not like and do not really want to be in. If it weren’t for that man there, I would never leave. I want to make myself believe it is enough but I do not know.
So I’m sitting here wondering what I am really made of. Will I be able to do this? I’m forcing myself through this part that hurts so much. Giving my dog to a lovely family who just lost their own dog this week. Saying goodbye for so many months. Dragging all my crap across the world (I think I’ll scale back the stuff in one bag cause I feel like my heart will be lighter if I pack lighter). But I want to RUN. I do not want to give my dog away; this is his home, here with me. I do not want to leave, I want to not care about proving anything.
So when that sun comes up, I suppose we’ll see what I am made of. Am I strong enough? I don’t know. I feel weak. Tortured. Confused. Unable to face my own truth. Why should I do this to myself? I just don’t. Want. To. Go. I hate it there. Hate it. It’s strange and upside down and backward and bizarre. It’s foreign and offensive and difficult and…