Why must I go?

I’m moving back to England. This has confused some folks, including myself, since I made of point of saying that I will not be going home until I have succeeded in becoming a famous author in a previous post or two.

Most of my friends have been very understanding and supportive, but all of them have asked me why. Some only need a single sentence to get it, others are still asking though I must have explained it at least 5  times already. If you’ve been tagged you’re either one of these people, or you’re just someone who I haven’t told my story too yet.

It’s probably the second one.

The short answer, I miss my family. I’ve been in the United States since December of 2003, when I came over to marry the girl of my dreams. I had met her as an exchange student a few years before in the UK. I had used all my savings up already during a 90-day visit to the US, and I also had an expensive Warhammer 40k habit. With help from my family I managed to get back on my feet and work my arse off (that’s British for ass), and raise the money to pay the filing fees and flights to come over on a fiance visa.

13490590_10153895227264086_5240460040902902477_o
My Mum and Dad

My Mum didn’t want me to go of course, but she supported my decision and helped me make my own mistakes. My Mum is amazing. While it’s true that she has a tendency to over-mother and take over the planning and organization of whatever you plan to do, I really needed her help then, and I do again now. It’s been difficult to admit. I’ve been so determined to make it on my own.

The marriage lasted 10 years. In hindsight that was a lot longer than it should have. We tried to make it work. I read a ton of self-help books. I read up on depression, adult ADD, anxiety and bipolar disorder. I read books on management, organisation and leadership. I even studied psychocybernetics, self-hypnosis and the art of manipulation. Nothing I tried to do to be a better husband stuck and my stubborn personality kept reasserting itself. Eventually we had the “I’m not happy” talk and separated.

I thought that a few years of living alone would force me to be a more mature adult. After all, if there’s no one else to do dishes I’ll have no choice but to do them myself, right? Wrong. I’m planning on leaving the country in a few days and there’s still a pile of dishes that need doing. I found it disgusting when my ex-girlfriend left dishes for months without washing them. I’ve discovered, to my horror, I’m just as bad.

My Mum taught me not to use credit cards. When I was younger, I’d save up for anything I wanted. If I chose to spend the money on impulse items instead, then I just didn’t get the thing. I knew that credit cards were a bad idea, but my wife already had some, and we got more. Several years of bad financial management and poor decision making later, I have multiple credit cards demanding repayment of debts, one of them has begun garnishing my wages and another looks about to do the same.

My plan to pay these debts is, of course, to become crazy famous and use my new wealth power and influence to make all the debt go away. It’s a little immature, but I think I can do it. However,my strategy for getting there involves writing everyday, updating my blog everyday, and interacting with my followers. This is difficult to do if I can no longer pay for internet, or rent. It’s a little tricky already since the company I currently work for doesn’t allow mobile devices or internet access, and even notepads and pens are banned. 40+ hours a week of potential writing time lost!

My Dad is a genius. I love him, very much, but we butt heads on certain things. Like religion. He came up with the idea that I could move in with my Grandparents. They’re wonderful people. They take care of themselves, despite being in their 90’s. It would give them all peace of mind though if they had some live-in assistance. Dad suggested that I do it. I could get paid as a care assistant, and have a lot more time to write.

I’d also be home.

13646809_10153859941393224_1558500561_o
My Sister and her Daughters

My only sister has two daughters, my nieces. I’d be able to be a real uncle to them. They are the cutest little people in the world. I’d be able to go for a pint with my Dad so we can voice our opinions at each other without bothering the rest of the family. I can help my Grandad with the garden, and my Grandma with housework (much as I dislike doing it myself). I’m not sure what I could do for my Mum, or if she’d let me. Perhaps I could help here with the therapy business. After she’s trained me up, of course. I know a little bit, but not enough.

So I’m going home, because it’s time. Because I miss my family. Because if I don’t, my money trouble is only going to get worse, and my passport expires July 25th. I worry that if I don’t get home now, I’m not going to be able to for a long time. Any and all money I make from selling my things will go towards buying a one-way flight to the UK asap. If you want to help, I’d appreciate you taking something off my hands in exchange. Don’t worry about offering too little, anything helps.  Everything must go, as soon as possible. I’d rather sell everything cheap than one item for a lot.

Take a look at some of what I’m getting rid of:

Everything Must Go! – Round 1

Everything Must Go! – Round 2

I’d be happy to have you come over and let you take a look at the items in person before you make me an offer. Email me copeland.tony@gmail.com, message me on Facebook, or send me a text 608-304-4157 to make arrangements or make an offer. You can also donate towards getting me home without buying anything via Paypal.

 

 

 

 

 

One thought on “Why must I go?

  1. Pingback: Going, Going, Gone! – Antony M Copeland

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 )

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s