Sometimes you just don't feel like smiling

Not an incredibly fitting title considering that I was feeling really good today, really content. However, the past few days have been filled with drama and insomnia and I still can't figure out which caused the other.

The drama rotates around finding a new place to live. Minutes away from signing a rental lease on a new condo that wasn't perfect but that we felt would work out, I spotted a clause that had been ticked and that we were to initial, indicating our agreement. The clause read something like: "At the end of the 12 months, the tenant will move out of the apartment." This, of course, raised alarm bells especially considering that below this clause there was another one that was un-ticked that read: "At the end of the 12 month lease, the rental may proceed month-to-month or at a fixed term."

What followed was a long and frustrating, heated discussion between me, M and the rental management guy about what this meant, about the Tenancy Act, about the intentions of the owner, etc., etc. Needless to same it spoiled a perfectly fine dinner out. We were expecting him to arrive later at the restaurant where we had planned to meet. It must have been very bad dinner theatre for the people around us.

This rental management man was convinced that we didn't understand and we were convinced that the owner didn't know whether she would sell after the year was up, thus leaving us without a home. Finally, we decided that this wasn't the one. Perhaps this is what my insomnia the night before had been trying to tell me. I had not slept the whole night. At all. I'm not doing so well tonight either considering it's 3:07am.

Earlier in the day I had had my weekly blood test where the nice lady asked "What's a molar pregnancy?" I proceeded to give my spiel about the empty egg being fertilized and the placental cells growing out of control, etc., etc. She was confused by parts and asked "You took the chemo when you were pregnant?" to which I responded: "No, they had to do a d&c before the chemo." She then asked "Was this your first baby?" and I had to explain that no, I had had a miscarriage previous to this. She seemed quite motherly and sympathetic, so much so that I teared up (something I hate doing in front of people I don't know). Why do people feel so entitled to ask these questions?

The day continued to be "heavy". I went for my yearly pap smear, something that is not without stress. I revisited again the whole molar pregnancy/chemo trip with my family doctor as she hadn't seen me since she had referred me to the gynaecologist. She was kind and talked to me about my experiences. There was no rushing, Thank God for small miracles.

The day culminated in me returning home and crying myself to sleep. We're talking a great sobbing mess. I don't remember gulping for air like that since I was a kid. M was my hero and stroked my back, encouraging me to cry as much as I wanted, let it all out, it was healthy, it's okay, it's good to cry, you've been through so much.

When I was about 6 or 7 I think, I was flying down for my monthly visit to see my mom. Oh, the life of a child of divorced parents. The flight attendants were being very friendly with me as they were responsible for making sure that I was safely met by my mother. They were cracking jokes and attempting to amuse me. I was particularly solemn that day and I recall wondering why they wanted me to pretend that I was happy. One of the attendants asked "Such a pretty girl like you, why aren't you smiling?" I remember looking directly at her and saying "Sometimes you just don't feel like smiling." Things got kind of quiet after that.

Today was a "feel like smiling" day though. The crying brought catharsis. I've also realized that I love the neighbourhood that I'm in and I can make it work where I am right now. That has brought some peace. The Universe is giving me plenty of signals, in boldface, that indicate that it is not the time to move. I have been ignoring those signals up until yesterday. Now, I have let it go and it's a relief.