it’s like things couldn’t get any worse. and then they did. unimaginable. the comfort and safety i once felt in having home was taken away from me, twice more. once, by an irresponsible roommate who failed to mention all the facts. second, by my alcoholic mother who i have abandoned all hope for.
in the past thirty six days:
- i’ve moved my family five times (tomorrow being the fifth, and i’d like to think final)
- i cried when i had to tell my daughter “good bye”. it was the hardest two weeks of my life.
- i stood out in the rain, not sure which direction i should go.
- i spent 7 days in a hospital. reassessing all that was good. all that is bad.
- i’ve slept in seven different beds. only one of them being my own.
and then i rejoined reality. faced up to the things i knew i needed to do. the boundaries i had to break. people gave me hugs, patted my back. i listened to the stories of addicts, how they survived their disease. i went a week without speaking to my baby, seven days. consecutively. all those disturbing thoughts resurfaced. and then i spoke to Father Ambrose. {he says, “establish yourself”}. visited by my Pastor {he says, “things are bad, but you aren’t at your worst”}. Saturday morning hours ticked away. and then she came home to me.
we are running away together, so to speak.
tomorrow, Monday, we are going to be leaving l.a. county and moving to ventura. it makes my insides feel like jelly when i think about it. the moving around is very unsettling. i crave stability. routine. a reason to make me wake up every morning and fight this brain disease. i trudge through the day, taking the medications that they really don’t know much about. i eat out of necessity, i try to make sure the kids get to eat first. so when i make that move, i have this painfully hopeful expectation that things will get better. i know that they could get worse, i’ve seen them get worse. but my outlook is a brighter blue than the dreary gray area in which i live. i will have a bedroom. Scout will sleep with me, filling the empty space between us. she has a better chance at getting an invaluable education. she will see more green around her. most importantly, she won’t be around the people who hurt her.
i have plenty of goals, to do’s, if you will:
- buy our own bed
- open my Etsy shop
- get part time work in a veterinary office or dog grooming salon
- finish reading “the lady of the rivers“
- finish knitting Frippery (with obligatory shots of cuteness all around)
- maintain budget with tax refund. commit. be serious. make it work.
- try the best to fit in somewhere else. starting over.
starting over. that’s pretty heavy. but that’s what i’m doing. i’m not even going that far (maybe 20 miles away). but far enough that i have a new chance. my dreams of walking into class tomorrow morning have, once again, been upset. there will not be any college courses this semester. but i took the initiative: i filed for the most recent financial aid paperwork. i applied for admission in a college close to where i’ll be living. i’ve already researched veterinary assistant job openings. i’m polishing my resume, long forgotten for nearly ten years. i’m making bigger decisions. i’m choosing not to live in my anxiety. i just don’t have the stomach for it. literally. i have to move on. i have to forget certain incidents that have occurred the past seven months. i am just learning this thing called forgiveness. i have to learn that giving up is not an option. thinking of what my actions could have done to my daughter, they frighten me. she is six. i hope that she will grow up and forget this. i pray to Jesus, just let her have a chance. i want her to have the chance that i didn’t choose to take.
tomorrow. it seems so far away.
