Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Mistakes, I've made a few...

Finally I get to talk openly not only about the fact that I will be returning to the UK before the Ontario snow melts but also about having wanted to go home for so long it had started to physically hurt. Home is London, England.

Lon-don; light of my life, fire of my loins...well maybe not quite that special but definitely so much more special than I ever gave it credit for before moving to 'The Tundra'.

When the idea of coming to Canada emerged, and I really can’t remember how or when exactly that was, I do however remember embracing it with the enthusiasm and openness of a jolly and adventurous type - the person I am but haven't been in contact with since landing here on October 2nd, 2007 (I believe she is still somewhere in the customs hall of Pearson Airport). I saw it as an opportunity to give my daughter something precious - family - extended at that, given that I'm the only Conde left in the UK. But I realise now that one Conde is more than enough and besides - define Family. Define life. Note to self - it's very very subjective.

Did I fail to do the proper research into what moving continents would entail? Yes, I did. Guilty as charged and caught bang to rights. Certainly in that sense I got what I deserved. That's karma for you. And how. And for so much more than just failing to carry out a couple of background searches but I have been duly spanked and more determined than ever to make up for lost time.

Had I really investigated the move I might have anticipated the crippling loneliness of knowing no-one, the perpetual boredom of suburban life and the cultural malnutrition of smallville. See, for someone who had the Victoria & Albert Museum on her doorstep - the Old Post House in Oakville was not really going to cut it for something to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Result: the almost complete loss of social graces and will to live. The 'idyll' of a house on a tree-lined street with a drive and a backyard turned into nothing more than an emotional prison with an anti-recreation yard in which to rock back and forth like a caged animal which I have to admit I found myself doing on more than one occasion.

I should have looked into the possible outcomes of this move but I didn't, but to be honest had I done so and consequently seen what it was going to be like (e.g. stupidly cold country, moving to the isolation of the back of beyond and zero career prospects)... well, let's say not only would I not have come I would have taken Canada off my Christmas card list altogether.

I know there are some who will think me a gargantuan and selfish flake but I beg to differ and ultimately I've suffered enough: I don't care what anyone thinks.

I didn't expect the transition to be a walk in the park - I also didn't expect it to be a vertical hike up the K2 either. In the end, I would say coming to smalltown Canada turned out to be a bit like childbirth in that had I'd known how painful it was all going to be, I wouldn't have dared.

So fast forward to the moment I find myself in an absurd Stepford Wife situation (without the social circle) trapped in a nightmarish cycle of waking up alone, going to bed alone and spending pretty much every minute in-between....that's right alone, I do eventually prise myself out of the jaws of the black dog and set about trying to make the best of an abysmal situation. Not easy. But I decide to find a job and then I get a job, - but we all know what happens there. When you're heart isn't in it - it's going to show and it did.

So now, mutually resentful, my marriage hanging on by a thread's thread, I'm also mad and desperate when I find Yoga...or Yoga finds me. You know the rest. I found myself in the journey that is Yoga and realised - nothing is going to change my world but I first need to make it a world I want to remain unchanged.

As I cogitate over the last 2 plus years here, I do need to call out a few diamonds that kept the path of sanity visible. My mother in law - a true friend; my daughter - my best friend; my editor pal - the soul of discreet compassion - a kindred spirit. I want to also say my husband but I last saw him on the banks of the Mekong River and I'm hoping to bump into him again in the near future - though I do tip my hat at the guy who is standing in for him for persevering - I know it has not been easy.

And now, as is so wisely provided in the world of retail, I would like a refund please.

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