It’s official; I am an Abu Dhabi nomad. I must say, I am as amused to be writing that as it must sound to read. It’s mostly humorous because there really is no point in taking it any other way.
My official resignation date was October 5th and this course started the following morning. I was informed by Etihad housing that I had a grace of seven days after my resignation to stay in my apartment. After that I would be charged daily for overstaying.
A week before I resigned I had my roommate sign me in as her guest for the month. That way I could stay here as a visitor and not incur any fines. Well in typical UAE fashion, it wasn’t that simple. Thursday night I got a call from housing saying that I needed to hand in my house keys in by Saturday. I happily obliged and turned them over that morning as I headed off to the studio. When I returned home that night I was greeted by my puzzled security guard. He asked why I was here and when I explained, he informed me that there was no such memo and that I would have to take my things and leave. I’m actually laughing as I write this because I really didn’t know what to say. When I told my roommate she went downstairs, guns blazing, ready to give the poor Indian-security guard a piece of her mind. In the end, her words fell on deaf ears and I was forced to get in my car and go. Luckily I had my best friends couch to crash on. So now I have to spend the next week squatting in another person’s home until the visitor’s request is processed on the 26th. As if I don’t have enough to be stressed out about, now I am playing musical houses. Oh well, at least I’m not sleeping in my car.
Now back to the yoga
It seems as though the girls and I are taking turns having emotional meltdowns; fits of uncontrolled tears that cannot be pinpointed to any one event. Yesterday I was up for round two. I have been so busy with this course and running around from building to building trying to get the signatures I need to process my resignation that I haven’t had so much as a moment to think, much less get enough sleep. Each night seems to be an average of five to five and a half hours. Perhaps for some people that is enough, but when your day consists of presenting, lectures and clinics that span over twelve hours, five measly ones to recharge your battery just doesn’t cut it. I suppose that explains why after two weeks of being too busy to even cry, I found myself fighting back sobs in my yoga class.
I struggled through the first 45 minutes tear-free but by the time we hit the floor series my mind and body felt so weak that the only thing I could concentrate on were the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Luckily in a class where temperatures hit the mid-thirties, no one can tell if it’s salted drops of sweat or tears that are running down your cheeks. By the time class ended I couldn’t hold back my exhaustion any longer. I walked to my car in fits of tears, completely unable to pinpoint what was upsetting me most. Sleep deprivation is a funny thing.
Sue sat in my passenger’s seat comforting me as I tried to compose myself enough to drive my car. Her empathetic words rang softly in my ears. “It’s okay; we’re all going through this together.” I knew she was right. And with each inhale I felt a little better.By the time we reached Olivia’s, I was desperate for some sleep and opted out of lunch to get it. I curled into the fetal position atop her spare bed and as soon as my head had connected with the pillow, I fell into a dreamless slumber.
After my nap I was feeling ready to conquer the last seven hours of my day. It’s funny how a good cry and a little shuteye can sort out your mind.We ended the night with a 45-minute guided meditation. I have to admit that at first the idea of sitting in silence for that long sounded quite daunting. I can hardly keep my mind still for 30-seconds let alone three quarters of an hour.
Surprisingly, it was fantastic. Sure my mind wandered and I felt the pangs of hunger stir in my stomach but the time passed far quicker than I had expected. And the shared energy of our group, along with people all over the world (as it was world mediation hour) was electric. I drove home feeling a little lighter and for the first time all week, I didn’t feel consumed in my dialogue-daze. Perhaps that silent time helped me deal with my unanticipated eviction so well. Or maybe I’m getting just a tad better at letting go. Either way, I feel ready to do it all again Monday morning.
Two weeks down, two more to go…