(I know I just wrote a post about Barb and her awesomeness, but I didn’t think it was fair to write about her in this same post, because this post is pretty damn emo.)
I couldn’t get out of bed yesterday or today. I wanted to. Wednesday is homework day. I haven’t done any homework or looked for a job in two weeks now. Not since J said he wouldn’t be coming back to America.
The plan. The plan I thought we had was…I couldn’t live in Australia. I thought I could. I thought I was strong enough to adapt and be this cool international traveler but that’s just not me. I fear change. How could I have been so stupid? I sold everything I had. I left my friends, family and Mexican food. It would all be fine once we get to Australia. And it was anything but.
I am bipolar. Unless you have literally lived with someone who has mental illness, you don’t know how bad it gets. I thought I could hide it from J’s family. I thought I could forget about the past year and just bounce back. New country, new life, new start. But sadly, you can’t escape your brain.
I came back to the States and thought I could forget about the past year and bounce back. Old country, old life, new start. J is in school, and when he gets done he’ll just move here again, and we’ll start over. Sure, we don’t have a car, furniture, money, or jobs. Sure we’ll have to live with my parents. But we’ll be okay! I won’t fall apart like last time!
J had a return ticket set for May 28. This whole time he was excited and gung ho about coming back. I was excited. I won’t fall apart like last time! Then he dropped a bomb-I won’t be ready by May, Hed. I’m sorry. It sounds simple, but it’s not. J and I spent a lot of money and man-hours getting him a visa and a green card. Since he was my fiancé, he was granted a two-year conditional green card that expires in October of this year. He needs to be in the country and file 90 days prior for his ten year card. There are no extensions or exceptions. Also, immigration considers you to have abandoned your green card if you are out of the country for longer than a year unless you file a re-entry permit-the condition being you are in the States to file it.
I took it upon myself to call Qantas and extend his ticket to August 7. That’s roughly two more months, and we will still be doing the legal thing and making sure he hasn’t been out for longer than a year and all that. Great idea, baby!, he tells me. All is right with the world again. I continue school and buy a Wii.
Finally last week. He tells me he really doesn’t think he will be coming back. At all. Not even to visit in August because that will require a return ticket with money that we should be saving. Great. Thanks, J. Thanks for telling me this now. If, when I told him I wanted to go home last November he told me my home is here, then maybe I wouldn’t have left (who am I kidding I hated it and I missed my family). But now I am here and he is there.
Now I have to consider going back to Australia, which feels like a death wish (not really, but I don’t have another word for how I am feeling…dread?). I told J I wouldn’t move back unless this time we have our own place, but even that makes me feel terrible. His parents opened his home to us, rent-free, and now I sound like an American diva demanding he spend money on everything? The only reason I want an apartment is because there is no way I can face his parents again, and that’s the truth. The day I left J’s mum hugged me and with tears in her eyes said, “we’re not terrible people”. The whole time she thought I hated them? Again, you cannot understand bipolar unless you have lived with it-and I stayed so isolated from them because I was in so much despair that they never even had a chance to understand.
And what about leaving my family again? And the major issues I had with food? I know it may sound so stupid and trite in the big picture, but I have MAJOR ISSUES with food. When I lived in Australia I practically existed on white rice, beans, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and mac n’ cheese. Everything else was awful. Food is my only comfort. I don’t drink/smoke/do drugs. I eat. And the MAJOR ISSUES with food I had over there will never go away.
So here I am.
I haven’t talked to J in almost 24 hours now. I’m angry. I’m more angry at myself than I am at him because I did this. I fell apart. I lost the job and the house. But, if in December 2007 when we were first talking he told me “I like you and I think things would be amazing with us, but I will never leave Australia. I’m sorry”, then that would have been that. I would have kept working and living where I was, and I would have found someone else one day. So yeah, I’m angry. I’m suicidal, to be honest. I have nothing. Everything is gone because I thought Australia would be great and wonderful and happily ever after. But I am not happily ever after. I never will be.