How the universe kicked me in the guts

I’m pretty sure the universe is playing games with me. Like seriously trying to mess with my head. After a string of bad luck last year with injuries and illness, I was hoping 2014 would see us back on track. Then this week, the universe lifted its big old, booted leg and kicked me in the guts.

The good news is that we are only about 7 weeks away from moving into our new house. I cannot begin to tell you how happy this makes me. After feeling like a nomad for the past 18 months, I’m so close to my own home I can taste it. It kind of feels like those last few weeks of counting down when you’re pregnant – knowing something awesome is about to happen and you just can’t wait. It doesn’t help that I’m a terribly impatient person.

The bad news is we found out four days ago that water had gotten into the shipping container storing about 95% of our possessions – and the damage was extensive. My husband and I naively had an idea in our heads of what this might mean – maybe a few things that needed to be chucked out, maybe some cleaning. We had no idea, I mean NO IDEA what we were about to witness when we walked into the warehouse where our belongings were now strewn across a concrete floor.

It was actually the stench that hit us first. From about 60metres away actually. It was putrid and suffocating. Then we saw a pile of what looked like our furniture, linen, clothes, toys – basically every material item we possessed; bar some basic clothes, shoes, toiletries and some toys that we have with us now – only it didn’t quite look right. Everything was destroyed. Black and white mould encasing furniture, clothes literally falling apart, toys looking like they’d been dipped in a swamp. It was shocking and horrible. We spent the next four hours wading through the remnants of our lives – with gloves and masks on. The end result is our one and a bit shipping containers full of possessions has now been reduced to pretty much what would fit on the back of a ute. Talk about an ultimate de-clutter!

 Yes, that IS a two seat Phil & Ted pram in there. I'm seriously spewing about that. And that wooden thing sticking up was a piece restored for me by my late grandfather. 

 My great hockey comeback might be delayed a bit. 

 These were going to be storage in my new sewing room *ahem* I mean, study. My daughter's bed and son's cot in the background. 

 We dragged those blimmin' clay pots all the way back from Vietnam

Mouldy kitchen stools anyone?

We were lucky in that somehow most of our photos survived. Our wedding photos, including the negatives, appear to be mould free. Thank goodness for those brilliant plastic boxes I’m so fond of! Our wedding was 10 years ago, before the digital photo revolution, so if these were gone, we would have had nothing. Also saved seem to be the prints and negatives from our travels before we had a family. Most of the treasured furniture that my late grandfather made will make it, after being professionally restored. 

Unfortunately, the little table and chairs he made for my mother and aunt when they were little girls about 55 years ago, was not so lucky. It’s now a sodden, filthy mess and will sadly become landfill. Just a little piece of furniture that served three generations of my family.

I’m well aware that many people will call me shallow and tell me that I should be grateful I have my family and that I was able to save those few treasured items. And I absolutely agree. I shouldn’t measure my happiness by the material goods I have displayed on shelves, hung on walls or even worn every day. In fact, I’m acutely aware of this.

But I’m also mourning the loss of many, many sentimental items that whilst being of little financial value, are completely irreplaceable. The artwork, embroidered linen and jewellery we collected in Vietnam, the Eiffel Tower fridge magnet from Paris (I know, how cliché!) and the vintage brooch I got at a market in Belgium cut deep.

But even deeper, and what’s keeping me up at night, are the baby blankets knitted by my great aunt for me when I was born and my children when they were born. The cards from friends and relatives congratulating us on the birth of our children. First birthday cards, the 50-year-old mixing bowls that belonged to my late grandmother, and the framed photograph that a very dear friend gave us for our wedding. A very dear friend who is no longer alive. Every hour I remember a little something that was important to me that is now gone forever. 

My head is telling me it’s just stuff and I need to get over it. I’m even rationalising it by thinking about families in war-torn countries who literally have nothing. Nothing! But this is my reality, my life and this is how I feel right now – heartbroken. Right now I’m upset about all the things I no longer have to remind me of events in my life. And that’s what they are. Memory joggers. And they were very special to me and my family.

Yes, as friends have pointed out, I’ll get to go and buy new ‘stuff’ for my new house (although it will be on a very strict budget because we were SERIOUSLY under-insured, like 1/5 of what we should have had – make sure you have adequate insurance folks!) but right now I’m just not in the mood. So I’m going to wallow in my misery for a little bit – and that may or may not include eating copious amounts of chocolate. I will get over it but just not quite yet. Will someone pass me those Lindt balls please?