How in hell did I get here? (Part Two)

After publishing Part One I started to feel that perhaps I'd been self-indulgent in airing all this stuff. I want to complete it now, but hopefully this part will be more balanced and then I can get back to the original purpose of writing about our experiences here.
This area, the Mani, where we live, despite any comments I've made previously, is absolutely beautiful; the scenery is stunning, for the most part the people, both Greeks and foriegn nationals, are really friendly and supportive, the weather is...well, you know what the weather's like; and did I mention the scenery? Yes, it can be difficult, at first, to acclimatise to everything, but it's hard to imagine that anyone could regret or become angry at being here. Yet, I did. I couldn't see all the wonderful positive stuff, or rather when I did it wasn't enough to overcome my depression. The difficulty still, is that all those negative feelings are attached to my memory of the last year or so. Rather than therapeutic now, it's quite hard reviewing the things I wrote before. It's also, I realise, quite unfair on Sue, who has had, and still has, to put up with me and the negatives that, in particular, I attached to her! I doubt if anyone finds moving to another country easy and Sue has had her own struggles with that (which I totally and selfishly ignored) as well as dealing with a problem partner. This is how my log, written about a year ago, continued:
"As I said earlier, I started to become panicky when Sue was researching houses in Greece - the closer she got to firm ideas the more panicky I got. Recognition that this was me becoming ill is, of course, all in hindsight. At the time I tried to ignore it. At the airport on the way to Greece to view some houses, they had introduced the new security arrangements where you couldn't carry more than 100ml of liquid in your hand luggage. Sue had contact lens solutions and other stuff on her and, until forced to, wouldn't accept she couldn't carry them. This came on top of discovering our luggage was overweight and we'd had to pay an extra £25 (£5 per kilo over). I don't exactly remember how I behaved, but Sue tells me she was frightened by it; I know I was agitated and angry. Sue, of course, was in shock and grief over her father and, realistically, so was I. We really should not have been going!
In Stoupa, where we stayed, I started to get panic attacks; not the sort that people usually describe and feel like heart attacks, but severe agitation, inability to sleep, wanting to run and hide, not being able to be still or relax. We spent a day with the agent, looking at various old houses, but eventually settling on a new build, involving extending our budget and drawing on savings. From Sue's point of view, it seemed to me, there was no option of not buying. You can see why I was stressed. Fortunately I finally recognised that I was not well and determined to see my doctor as soon as I got back home. He was very helpful and prescribed Sertraline which when it eventually kicked in was very good. I spent quite a while off work until I felt strong enough to return.
The side effects of Sertraline, while minor, were a bit disconcerting; I put on weight and got twitchy legs at night. I continued to sleep badly, but I'm not sure if that was caused by the illness or the medication. When I say badly I would sleep for 4, 5 or sometimes 6 hours and then be awake and unable to go back to sleep, with all sorts going round and round in my head. I bought a Paul McKenna book on stress with a self-hypnosis CD in it and I tried some of his techniques, particularly focussing on breathing and counting backwards. However, whereas during hypnosis it's okay to let your thoughts drift, when you want to sleep it gets in the way! Eventually going back to work was the best therapy, although it was very hard at first.
My doctor also recommended counselling and gave me some contacts, but I've done counselling (for stress) before and I understand the process, so I didn't feel I could cope with or commit to it. Maybe that was a mistake - I'm not sure.
By the time I returned to work we had sorted out the mortgage and I think we had made the first payment (or it was soon after). So it was arranged; we were committed, everything was under control. I could put it to the back of my mind for a bit. That helped, except it was aways there and every so often the fear and anxiety erupted and I was a pig to live with. Of course, everyone around us was always eager for news of the build and our plans. I was forever being told how lovely and exciting it all was, yet I really could only feel the fear, the insecurity we faced: I knew that employment prospects in Greece would be poor. I had a good job in the U.K. I investigated possibilities for retirement or sabbaticals, but none were available to me. So the prospect was giving up the job and going with what savings we had.

The one capital item which we wanted to sell was our VW Karmann Ghia, hoping to raise about £8K. I started to advertise it early in 2009, but only managed to sell it at a much reduced price in October, just weeks before we were due to leave the country. With the economic crisis the market for such cars is well down. The other idea for maintaining a safety net in the U.K. and realising more capital after the recession (if we ever survive this one) was to rent the house. To do this, we knew, would require some improvements. In 2008 I completed fitting a new bathroom. It took about 5 or 6 months. Then we started planning to upgrade the kitchen, including fitting an oven which we had always managed without. Work continued well, especially the new graphic facilitation training I had developed - very enjoyable.
After finishing the kitchen in early 2009 we started to do the decorating we needed to be able to rent the house out. It would also include getting a new window, finishing the airing cupboard, finding a way to finish off the chimney breast and put in some flooring in the back bedroom. We started at the top of the house with the attic. Being an attic it was full of rubbish and accumulated memorabilia. A lot of this was boxed up and put in the front room or cellar (where stuff started to get damp - lousy summer!!!). We had to leave the computer and table and work around it. We also worked around the bookshelves, although I think we eventually gave this away..............." I stopped writing here. Coincidentally (or perhaps it wasn't) it was at this point in the story that the pressure got to me and my illness erupted again. The main trigger was the inability of Sue and I to agree on when I should leave work; Sue saw it as setting a goal and me committing to it, whereas I wanted to be sure we would be ready so that I could have an income right up to when we were about to leave the country. Money inevitably played a large part in the stress we were both under. We needed enough to get to Greece and survive for a while and I felt we also needed to clear our outstanding debts like credit cards, but we clearly weren't able to raise what we hoped from selling the car and that wouldn't have been enough anyway! We definitely were not leaving Jessy, our cat, behind; that alone, to transport her by air, was nearly £1000. If we'd known then what we know now we probably would have invested in a camper van and driven here. I decided (without consulting Sue!) that we needed to borrow some extra money, preferably very cheaply. So that meant family. At first I asked my mother which upset my brother and sisters considerably and upset Sue because she was adamant that we could manage without it. I was certain that we couldn't. In the end, my brother, Andy, offered to lend us the money. Sue relented, I think, because of the effect the worry was having on me. However, she has not forgiven Andy for the conditions he set and for asking us to sign a contract with him; she feels that he unfairly has a stake in both our properties. He would describe the arrangement as a safeguard in case anything went wrong; I couldn't see that it made that much difference - we would still owe him the money.
Even though part of me didn't want to, I eventually handed in my notice at work. Later on, I negotiated a month's extension. I remember having various conversations with people, expressing my fears, and my stress must have been quite obvious even if there was nothing they could have done to help. In August 2009 it became evident that I was ill again; I went off sick from work and never returned.
I went back to the doctors and this time, because I expressed some reservations about the side effects of Sertraline, I was put on Certalopram which works in a similar way; inhibiting the loss of serotonin from the brain. However, instead of putting on weight, this time I started to lose weight. I also found it difficult, whether because of my condition or the medication, to relax or to focus in social situations.
There was still so much to do in the house, but now I was at home all day I could work on it. Looking back, I doubt if we could have got it all done if I'd still been working, but then again if I had not been ill maybe it would have been easier to focus and plan. I certainly didn't take sick leave so I could work on the house, but it helped. The attic, the stairway from top to bottom of the house and the back bedroom which included fitting an architrave, plasterboarding the chimney breast, adapting various pieces of wood and board to complete the airing cupbard, having a new window fitted (twice - there was a fault in one of the original units) and laying a laminated floor all had to be done. Then, we had to pack into boxes everything we wanted to take and throw or give away everything else. This involved  hiring  skips, getting charities to take away furniture and, it seemed like, at least 100 trips to the many charity shops in Arnold. This carried on even after the international removers had take all that we'd decided was going to Greece (well, not quite all; we missed one or two items and couriered them separately). I've no idea how we did it!
The arrangements for actually getting to Greece were relatively simple. We booked our flights in conjunction with Jessy's so that we took her to the cattery near Heathrow on our way to Gatwick and then picked her up at Athens the next day. We then had to coordinate her getting check-ups and the necessary injections and treatments prior to leaving (the last one has to be done within 48 hours of travelling); we'd already done the groundwork earlier in the year of getting her microchipped and purchasing her passport. To get to Gatwick we eventually found a car hire company that did the one way journey without a massive extra charge.
Throughout this process my mood and behaviour varied from robotic to completely manic, from anti-social to dangerous, and though the medication helped, this continued well into our first year here. My inner feelings and outward behaviours frequently led to blazing rows with Sue where she justifiably threatened to end our relationship. At one time, I confess, I experimented with increasing the dosage of Certalopram I was taking; it made me quite happy and agreeable for a while, but I recognised that it was unreal and gradually lowered it again. As I explained before, I eventually felt able to wean myself off it, but there are still times when I can be irrational and manic and unbearable, though, hopefully, these are getting fewer and further between.
We've lived here for 16 months now and we've got to know people and begun to find a place for ourselves in the community. The sad thing is that, if I hadn't been so ill and shut off, we may have been able to do it much quicker. Still, a friend of mine, who moved to France a few years ago, says it takes up to 3 years to really integrate and understand how everything works. So perhaps we're not doing too bad.