Monday morning I awoke finding that the feels I had expected to strike all weekend, had finally hit me. Skip and Linda are in the process of selling their house, and moving full time to their Indiana property. While I know this is what they want, and they feel is the right thing for them to do, I'm personally really not thrilled by the idea. It's the only home I have left. I've never lived at my parents' house. Mole Manor (the name of their often mole-ridden property), has been my home for 10 years, and I have over 20 years of memories there. I've been through some amazingly good times there, and some pretty awful ones, too. I've had many birthdays, Christmases, Thanksgivings, and summer vacations there. I hate the idea of not having a home to go back to anymore. They're all gone now.
I packed up my things, and looked around my room for the last time. I thought about all the sleepless nights I spent in that room. All the days with deep depression. The nights with such bad anxiety I had to keep the lights on. The early mornings, hearing Jeff or Jason or Pennie or any of a number of other people getting ready in the bathroom on the other side of the wall from my bed. I remember Jenn helping me get ready for my 30th birthday party in that room. I spend a very long summer kicking early stage Lyme and a failing spleen (yes, it's a thing) in that room. I very nearly cried as I stood there, realizing, I would never be back. I said goodbye to the giant cedar closet in the upstairs hall, and regretted the fact that I'd never managed to find Narnia in it, even though I'm positive it's in there somewhere. I went downstairs and looked at the dining room, where I'd had many birthday and holiday meals, and thought of all the time I'd spent in front of the fireplace in the living room. We packed up the car, and I have no idea how we pulled out of the driveway without me bursting into tears, but somehow, I managed it.
We went to lunch with my parents, and then came back and played poker with them for a little while, before heading to the airport. We used my Jelly Bellies as chips, and Andy kept eating them! I came out of the game with a LOT fewer Jelly Bellies than I went in with. Yes, I'm dating a gourmet jelly bean thief.
Despite some close calls and a few bumps along the way (and a bag that stayed in Cincinnati!), we got home in one piece. It was about 8:30 before Andy dropped me off at my place, and I definitely slept well that night, and regretted having to go back to work the next morning.
This was my first trip home in a year, it was my last stay in my house, it was my first trip with Andy. Most of what happened between August and December of last year is a pretty big blur. I'll delve more into this in future posts, but it's not that I didn't think I could survive. It's not that I didn't think my life had value. I knew I could and I knew it did. I was just...done. Tired of struggling so hard with life, and trying so hard to make good choices, only to have the choices of other people (my brother and sister, my parents, various "friends," etc. cause me trauma and extreme distress. I still think that all sucks. But I've come out on the other side. Mostly, anyway. This trip was a reminder of how far I've come. And for that, I'm grateful.
I packed up my things, and looked around my room for the last time. I thought about all the sleepless nights I spent in that room. All the days with deep depression. The nights with such bad anxiety I had to keep the lights on. The early mornings, hearing Jeff or Jason or Pennie or any of a number of other people getting ready in the bathroom on the other side of the wall from my bed. I remember Jenn helping me get ready for my 30th birthday party in that room. I spend a very long summer kicking early stage Lyme and a failing spleen (yes, it's a thing) in that room. I very nearly cried as I stood there, realizing, I would never be back. I said goodbye to the giant cedar closet in the upstairs hall, and regretted the fact that I'd never managed to find Narnia in it, even though I'm positive it's in there somewhere. I went downstairs and looked at the dining room, where I'd had many birthday and holiday meals, and thought of all the time I'd spent in front of the fireplace in the living room. We packed up the car, and I have no idea how we pulled out of the driveway without me bursting into tears, but somehow, I managed it.
We went to lunch with my parents, and then came back and played poker with them for a little while, before heading to the airport. We used my Jelly Bellies as chips, and Andy kept eating them! I came out of the game with a LOT fewer Jelly Bellies than I went in with. Yes, I'm dating a gourmet jelly bean thief.
Despite some close calls and a few bumps along the way (and a bag that stayed in Cincinnati!), we got home in one piece. It was about 8:30 before Andy dropped me off at my place, and I definitely slept well that night, and regretted having to go back to work the next morning.
This was my first trip home in a year, it was my last stay in my house, it was my first trip with Andy. Most of what happened between August and December of last year is a pretty big blur. I'll delve more into this in future posts, but it's not that I didn't think I could survive. It's not that I didn't think my life had value. I knew I could and I knew it did. I was just...done. Tired of struggling so hard with life, and trying so hard to make good choices, only to have the choices of other people (my brother and sister, my parents, various "friends," etc. cause me trauma and extreme distress. I still think that all sucks. But I've come out on the other side. Mostly, anyway. This trip was a reminder of how far I've come. And for that, I'm grateful.
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