… or at least I’m feeling locked up in an uncannily similar house in British suburbia …

How it all began

But how did I get here? Let me start from the beginning.

While I was still in the South of France taking care of two sweet cats and a huge compound it struck me that I’d love to do my next house-sit in London. So I registered for a house carer site specifically geared to the UK and was so lucky as to find a house-sit that felt great after talking to the owner of a cat and dog, even though, or maybe because it was not in London, but in Plymouth. Having grown to love the proximity of nature and looking forward to take long walks with a young dog that would be happy to get out sounded amazing, all the more so since I was looking forward to exploring an exciting new landscape.

The fact that I found amazing deals for my flight to London, a 4-day stopover, and my onward journey by coach in the matter of one day, made me very hopeful and excited about my choice. This meant I could go to a Josh Johnson show I had secured tickets for already last year, and see a dear friend who has been calling London her home for over 20 years and is living here with her beautiful family. She even was happy to join me for the show which made me even happier!

London – A Feast for the Senses

When I arrived in London, I was once again mesmerized by the vibrant mix of old and new, the bustle on the streets and in public transport, as well as the vast range of international food stores, hair salons and clothes shops. In “my” quarter alone, Newham, there were Ghanaian fast food places and restaurants, an Indian “Kingfisher’s Fishmonger”, oriental sweets shops and a Q’ran school – just to name a few “exotic” places – although I am well aware that I was the exotic element on the streets there, all the more so since the only other white people I heard on the street were young Russian speakers. In short – I loved it!

What struck me most was the kindness of people everywhere, despite of the sheer masses of crowds milling about, because there was always this sense of “I see you”, be it in public transport, when I had a meltdown after repeatedly mixing up trains, or talking to a radiant drug store owner in a headscarf telling me about the beauty of psychological hygiene and letting on she already was a grandma!

My accommodation was sub par, overall seedy, with worn hallways laid out in stained carpets, my own room smelling suspiciously sweet and my bathroom window missing a handle to close the upper part. But here again, the kindness of the owners running the place and their helpfulness in providing a space heater made up for the inconvenience.

So I thoroughly enjoyed meeting my friend, staying one night with her family, going to Brixton and the South Bank with her, and walking the historic bridges as well while taking in the air of a cosmopolitan city. Even getting worn out by the sheer distances as part of the deal was somehow exciting.

Magical Perspectives

As usual, there was a parallel filter going on in my head. This time it was being fed by Monica Ali’s Brick Lane as well as the Harry Potter world. Just recently, I had rewatched the documentary of J.K. Rowling’s journey to becoming a published author and had been inspired by how her perception of everyday details had ended up as iconic images in her books. So when I waited at a busy bus stop and watched the red double-deckers weave throughout each other I couldn’t help but remember the blue magic night bus that could magically shrink to the width of a tiny slot left between two regular buses, wondering if she had taken her inspiration from that same scenario.

Arriving in Reality

My bus trip to Plymouth, however, was devoid of any other-worldly magic, but extremely comfortable and pleasant.

At the bus stop, my “host” picked me up as promised and seemed helpful, but it soon became clear that she’d deliver on very few of her promises. On the other hand, her expectations were rather huge, the most problematic one being that I stay with the 3-year-old dog all the time and not even leave the house for grocery shopping; a detail which I maybe didn’t catch in our initial conversation. So my times out are restricted to twice 3 hours a week when a dog carer will take him. The house owner did not make provisions for me to at least stock up before she left as there were 5 days to go to the next dog carer visit, so I had to insist lest I wanted to be without food. Granted, she left lots of food she couldn’t finish herself which luckily coincides with my preferences, but the lack of care for my wellbeing struck me. This extended to the temperature regime in the house which to me is unspeakable: 14 degrees in the night, 16 degrees during the day, and 18 degrees “during a particular cold spell”. I had warned her of my need to have warm surroundings lest I want to be sick.

When the Body Speaks

In any case, I fell sick the night she had left, have alternated between desperation and hopefulness, I’ve cried a lot, tried to rest, gotten sick in my head for only talking to the animals, sweet as they are, and had to literally force myself and my body out for the walks this active young dog desperately needs. All the more so since “resting up” isn’t really an option with an expectant canine lingering in the background that reacts to the slightest movement or change of breath on my part in the hopes of being entertained again.

Mind you, this is not his fault – she has been treating him like a baby and calls his reactions FOMO, but to be honest, she simply hasn’t taught him to be more self-sufficient.

Thankfully, I will be able to talk to the dog carer tomorrow, because sitting in the house, with the exception of the dog walks which don’t exactly induce comfort when you’re freezing and bending over to lick up the poo makes your head burst with pain, is not an option. Not for a whole month!

I am prepared to look for a replacement if there is no improvement to this untenable situation.

Three Bodies, Three Lives

What helped me arrive at this stance was the realization that I am taking care of not only two little bodies – the dog’s and the cat’s, but mine as well. Not to speak of my mental state and productivity under these circumstances.

So I am open to anything that will make my stay here be less similar to being locked up in a sweet home, and willing to learn to set boundaries with the doggy as well.

What’s more, I can view this situation as an invitation to suss out my own boundaries anew.

Recognizing the Pattern

Because what I noticed happening is a pattern where at first, I try to comply with and meet all spoken and unspoken expectations of the other party. When this willingness to do my best is not met with appreciation, or worse still, being exploited, resentment starts rearing its head. At first, I will try to talk myself out of it, doubting my own perceptions, seeking fault with the way I feel and being sure I misunderstood something. The more I do so, however, the more detailed my inner rant becomes, and my inner search engine is set to all the inconsistencies and patterns in that person’s behavior.

And most of the time, the necessary impulse to watch out for myself again comes from outside, after talking to a friend or an outsider who provides a more balanced view.

Like in this case – a talk to a friendly neighbor who totally understood my predicament of basically being shut in, and a whatsapp convo with another friend (whose dog I had sitted for a week without any of the above-mentioned troubles!) who simply stated that our little friend here is rather spoiled put everything into perspective.

The Way Forward

I am still not well physically, but better, and my situation still feels desperate, but at least now I have a direction to go – which is ensuring maximum comfort for all THREE bodies (and souls) currently living in this house.

Would I have wished for it to be otherwise? Most certainly.

Am I capable of seeing the good in this situation now? Increasingly.

Really, what new clarity and boundaries can I now learn to exude and live so that my body doesn’t have to fall ill to point out the imbalance to me?

My question to you:

Have you also found yourself in a situation that turned out very different from what it was supposed to be, making you feel stuck?

How did you react?

Did you blame the other party that didn’t keep word?

Did you rant inwardly and suffer silently?

Did you speak up with confidence?

And – most importantly – what part did your body play in the whole process?

I am honestly curious to hear from you.

What if we never left our own bodies and wellbeing out of the equation?