That was clearly not a very uplifting story (my last post). Before falling asleep the other night I was thinking about my teenage/ young adult years and how truly uncomfortable they were. I had a home but I know what it's like to feel homeless. I felt homeless for the eight years that I lived in that house. Between three different homes of very close friends of mine I spent more time away from my house than I did at it (or at least I tried).
My parents got divorced when I was 10 and we moved out of the home I grew up in when I was 14. During the four years post divorce that we lived in my childhood home we pretty much trashed the place; four young kids and a mom who gave up on life but we practically demolished the house we moved to out in the country. I wasn't old enough at the time to understand that things break and you have to fix them. I felt like we were cursed. Oh, and they break faster when you don't take care of them. Everything in that house was broken, rotting, falling to pieces, trashed, and the hoard... I never knew that it had a name until that show hoarders started airing on TV. I never knew there were other houses on the planet like ours until I watched that show. For the record we did have a bit more floor showing in our home than most of the houses on that show but my oh my the similarities are scary.
I was thinking about living there and imagined it'd be constructive for me to write a little blip about it. I'm happy to report that it was, for me anyhow. I find myself terrified at times that I'm going to end up like "that." Every time something breaks there's this fear that grips me, "oh no, it's starting..." Every night when I'm picking up toys, hubby's socks, some dirty clothes; general straightening up that always takes way too long I worry that, "my house is becoming..." When I notice one of my clutter spots (I have a few BUT they never last too long, another springs up in a different location, and then I clear that one away) I am almost paralyzed with thoughts, "the hoard is here!"
But looking back, really looking back and remembering having to climb piles of clothes to get to the other side of a room, the ceiling falling in in several spots, the mold in the dishwasher, the countless dishes I literally threw in the trash because they were too gross for me to even think about cleaning, the stench, oh! I will never live like that again. I don't live like that. Someday came. I have my own home, that I take care of. We always fix things here when they break. I have my own family. Oh my word, I am normal! There's nothing to hide. When people come over for a bon-fire (theoretically... because we hardly ever have people over and we don't have a fire pit) I don't have to tell them before hand that if they have to pee they will have to do so by a tree because there is NO WAY they are going in my house.
I'm having this tiny revelation that even though I generally feel scatter brained, overwhelmed by chores and cleaning that needs to be done, that when something breaks I freak out about where we'll get the money to fix it, I actually harbor a decent amount of shame that I'm not good enough at this whole "adult life thing," I'm really doing just fine. A lot of the robotic/ little black cloud stints are a direct result of the paralyzing fear that I'm failing at life. All these Debbie Downer worries and stresses about someday ending up back there are old ghosts. I'm not perfect BUT my life is NOTHING like it was there in that house and I wasn't the one who made that mess (I was the only one who ever tried to fix it actually). Someday is here and it's pretty darn great!
Average daily spending for August: $18.07