A motherload

Since we last saw each other, we have had the strangest week of weather. Yet more sand storms blew in, leaving their usual dusty mess behind and these were followed by thunderstorms and torrential rain. I mean this was proper rain, only dirty,  caused flooding in some areas, and made major roads impassable. The desert can’t cope with the rain and quite frankly neither can I.

So after a weekend indoors,  yesterday the sun finally made an appearance, I was making the most of it. To any outsider that had spotted me, all set up on my lounger, kindle in hand, sipping on my almond milk cappuccino, I was the epitome of relaxation and living the dream. What they wouldn’t have seen, is that, under my big floppy sun hat and large sunglasses, tears had filled my eyes and I was anything but relaxed.

The reality of this life, is that sometimes, that cliched image of the lady of leisure sunning herself, is a facade and behind the sunscreen we are simply having a bad day. No one sees it and I am very good at hiding it, but yesterday I hit a wall, unable to lift myself off the emotional roller-coaster that had ensued by breakfast. The very fact that I took myself off for some sun therapy was my first attempt at snapping out of the fog and for the briefest of moments it worked. I sat there reading my book, when 2 pages in I realised I had read the same extract over again and nothing was sinking in. I was distracted. My head wasn’t in the expat game. So I took to my phone and thought some happy snapping for my insta page would improve my mood, so that picture perfect poolside coffee was uploaded and the pretense continued.

CryingIconAs the book wasn’t holding my attention, I preceded to scrawl my social media feeds and was inundated with posts about Mothers Day. I know some of my readers are yet to reach this celebration of motherhood and the Arabic date has been and gone, but for the UK, and therefore my mum, it was already in full swing. So whilst I posted my own dedication to my wonderful mum and sister, a lump came to my throat and that was it……the flood gates had opened and a motherload of emotional came flying out. I didn’t know what to do, I tried to pull myself together but every time I stopped, within seconds another batch of fresh emotions came bubbling to the surface. In that moment I felt utterly alone and I don’t just mean figuratively, I was quite literally the only bugger round the pool, which didn’t help my decent into despair!

My main issue when feeling like this is that I don’t ask for help or support. As I sat there I thought about messaging someone, but who?  I was in no state to FaceTime my mum, as I knew the moment I saw her I would crumble, plus I don’t want her to worry and the day was about her not me. Ok, so scratch that plan. My sister was enjoying her first mothers day, so she was an inappropriate shoulder to cry on. It was the first day of the working week, so I knew Hubby would be up to his eyes and I didn’t want to be the weak, crying wife, who can’t cope with a day on her own. All of my UK based friends will be in the midst of their own celebrations, so hearing from me crying on a sun bed was hardly going to fit in with their relaxing breakfasts in beds and angelic children, so now what?

But it all honesty the biggest issue was that I didn’t want to admit that things get tough, that today was tough, as it’s apparent that this life does make you miss things. I was missing out on taking my mum for a posh lunch and spoiling her rotten. I was missing out on the happiness that my little sis would be feeling with her rainbow daughter, after the heart ache she felt as last years mothers day approached. I simply wasn’t there. Then the biggie……I’m not a mum. My one emotional thing, my kryptonite, that I successfully hide with my adult only vacations, idyllic Maldivian kid free get-aways and my vocal intolerance to screaming Kuwaiti kids. Hubby and I are just fine, just us, but I guess on days when everyone you know is celebrating this milestone, compounded by my family being 3000 miles away, I questioned everything.


The issue is that I am not always the together one, I like to have everyone believe this is the case, that I’m totally in control (Virgo control freak rears its ugly head once more) copes under pressure and is dutifully strong. Even in my desert life, I am the go to person, the one that is the sympathetic ear, will dish out advice, say it how it is and be the support when needed. I realised that not once, in my three years here, have I actually gone to any of my friends and said HELP!! I usually shut myself away for a day, have a few tears, watch my favorite movie and I’m over it and everyone is none the wiser.

All of this wasn’t helping my current state of mind, the doubt started creeping in about whether I really do have a support network here. I spiraled. Are my friends just fluffy ones, happy to have coffee with, occasionally bring me their expat woes (as I am the longest serving desert girl) and good as a tanning buddy. Was it really that superficial?! Do they really want to hear my pity party for the day? Maybe I should just pull myself together? But as more tears streamed down my face, I took a deep breath and sent a message hoping my instincts weren’t wrong.

Of course they weren’t. Of course these friendships I’ve built aren’t all smiles and cappuccinos. As soon as I was home, they were at my door, putting the kettle on and there ready to take on my irrational, emotional mess. It is in these moments that you realise we are all in this together, truly in every sense. We celebrate together and cry together and, as much as it pained me, I can drop the strong, independent, nothing phases me act, and its accepted, supported and no one thinks any less of me. Phew.

You will be pleased to here that this was a lapse in emotional maturity. A blip, just one of those days. It doesn’t happen often and hasn’t in a long while, but it is part of an expat life and we all get them. Sometimes we just need a good cry, sometimes random things will set us off without warning and sometimes, even at 36, you can just simply miss your mum.


7 thoughts on “A motherload

  1. I think everyone has these days; yours had a trigger and other people just wake up feeling blue for no good reason. What is important tough is that you manged to admit that you needed help and that you have some strong friends to see you through the emotional roller coaster. It annoys me when people think that expat life is one big holiday full of cocktails and manicures; just like anyone, we have good days and bad days. Be brave, be strong and I hope you finally got to FaceTime your mum!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes exactly it’s a great life 90% of the time but it can just hit you and bad days are part and parcel and you have to accept that’s it’s ok to be emotional once in a while. Yes I did have a chat to her and it was lovely.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Hope you are feeling better today. I always think that when these moods hit that it is our body telling us to slow down and reflect. Like you, I also find a good old chat with mates sorts me right out. Sending hugs xx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks and yes I think you’re right some chill time is needed. It’s days like that I just wish I was able to have a glass of wine with friends rather than a brew!


  3. This really resonated with me, as an enforced lady of leisure (cannot get a job for love nor money). I don’t have that support network here, it is one of the many things I left behind to be with my husband. There isn’t really an expat group here. I had a good Mother’s Day, hubby and his kids gave me cards and made me breakfast, but I still struggle with missing my mum. Of course there is nowhere on earth that I could be and not miss her and my dad. I’m glad you found your solace and thank you for being vulnerable and sharing your blip. It made me feel a whole heap better about crying my eyes out today – and I’m 49!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Awe I’m glad it resonated with you and that you know you are not alone in having these feelings, it can be really hard some days and it really doesn’t matter how old we are! I’m sorry that you are finding it difficult and you are yet to find your supporters, I have lived in a place where the expat community was non existent and it’s tough and you are forced to become self reliant. This is of course fine when things are good, but very lonely when they aren’t. Thank you for reading and I hope it helped a little bit and I truly hope you have a better day tomorrow and in the future

      Liked by 1 person

  4. awh my heart broke for you as I read this. I know those days all too well. And like you I struggle to seek the support I need or even let out the tears (which is just no good at all). Usually an episode of Greys Anatomy is good for getting the tears out. I agree that the important thing is that you took that step and reached out to your friends. True friends. As we all know when making friends as an expat, there is huge doubt about the quality that is there but often it just takes a little trust on our end to see what is really there. I’m glad you’re feeling better now. Just remember even those days are more frequent than not, it’s ok either way. I think all too often we have pressure to portray this happy life in the sun because we chose it. Thank you for being so honest in this post.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s