As I get another week closer to the last year of my twenties, I find myself in a state of gloomy, unmotivated, emotional unstableness. Not so much because of my age, but because of the place I am in life which is so far from where I imagined. Ten years ago, as I approached my 19th year of life, I was in my first term at art school. Life was all about being creative, whether that was writing, drawing, painting or just sitting around day-dreaming about where life would take me. I wanted to be so many things, but most of all I wanted to be my own boss, have my own business, my own labour of love.
Anyway, that’s not the point, that’s just another reason for the gloominess. The point is that I have to make a decision, a rather largish decision that will affect the future of my little family in a big way. And I am struggling with the selfishness of this decision. For those who don’t know me personally, I feel that it’s slightly important to point out that I am an only child. But I am not your average selfish-spoilt-brat only child, because of the way I was raised. However, there will always be that little part of me that thinks like an only child.
The decision I have to make concerns our current living situation. Those of you who follow my blog have probably heard me bitch and moan about my current living situation many times. Coming up to 4 years ago, when children were not even a thought in our minds, we purchased our first property. We fell in love with this place immediately, the perfect modern little unit for a young professional couple. We knew that it would be a struggle to start with, but once hubby was finished his diploma and could work full time, it would be perfect. We moved in at the end of September 2006, about 3 weeks later I found out I was pregnant, completely unexpectedly and the situation was less than ideal. But it didn’t take long for us to adapt to that situation, three people living in a 2 bedroom unit wasn’t so bad. Well, loads of stuff happened after that, including moving out and becoming landlords so we could have more space, then having to move back in when the recession hit because we couldn’t afford it anymore. Now we have had our place on the market for 2 years, and it has become apparent that in the current market we are not going to be able to sell for enough to just break even, so we are in a position where we need to decide what next.
There is only so long that little man can sleep in a cot in our bedroom, there is nowhere to put another bed and bunks are not an option. But if we had to, at a stretch, we could probably keep him there for at least another 6 months to a year, as he is not mobile yet, and he may not even be walking by two. So my decision is selfish because: I want our bedroom back for the sake of our relationship, I want a room for all my creative stuff so I don’t feel stressed every time I want to create something but I have to dig around in uncountable places where things have been stashed away out of reach of little people or out of sight of visitors, and mostly because I want a HOUSE. A whole house. A house we can turn into a home. Because we never thought this place would take so long to sell it has always felt temporary, no point in settling in because we won’t be here long. The thing is, staying here would mean that for the first time in 4 years we would be a lot better off financially, because of the current interest rates (and ours is coming up for renewal). So, what would you choose, financial stability in a less than ideal living situation, or comfortable living with a bit of financial struggle? I just can not decide, and until I decide I can not get myself motivated to do anything except mope in gloominess (this gloomy weather doesn’t help at all!).
Sorry for the rather gloomy, un-illustrated, desperate tone of this post, but I really do need help.