At any stage of my life over the last 7 years, when I can sort through the mess inside my head, I turn to writing.
Most times the mess is my own creation. Maybe all the times. I’m so traumatized right now I don’t know how to become un-traumatized.
I moved out of my family home of 45+ years a couple weeks back. I knew for about a year that if I couldn’t begin earning more money that I would have no choice and that’s basically what happened.
I moved in with my boyfriend, which I knew deep down was a mistake, and I did it anyway. A week later we had such a vicious blow out he kicked me out. I am now living with a friend. My kids are scattered at school or with their Dad.
I am just so numb and in shock I can’t see straight anymore and I’ve become a shell of the person I once was.
I’m still in therapy and on meds, but also know I am the only one who can help myself.
I’ve made so, so many mistakes. The guilt of losing my family home overwhelms me to the point that I’m shut down. My home has been the one solid foundation in my life. Always there through everything to wrap me in safety and warmth and I let it slip from my grasp.
My boyfriend tried so hard to help me through this but he is ill-equipped for the emotional mess that I have become. He thought I would land on his doorstep full of gratitude and turn over a new leaf. Instead, he got a bitter, angry and deeply traumatized individual who he didn’t know how to help.
I am so sick of people saying “it was just a house” or ” you will make new memories” or any other platitudes you can come up with. Yup, I know. I have heard it all. Losing the house was the last physical piece of my Mother, of my childhood, of my children’s childhood, of my marriage. Losing my home feels like the biggest possible failure of my entire life. I can’t seem to come up for air.
There are plenty of other things layering on top of losing my home. My relationship was always tentative. I’m unsure how to be a good mother to adult children. I’m disappointed and angry that I had to start over in my career. I do not really know how to start over. I don’t even know where I will start over because in the next 3 months I am due to move 3000 miles away from my home, to a place I just don’t want to be, with no friends and no family.
I try to find some gratitude within each day and I struggle. Why was I born without these grateful bones in my body? I do have much to be grateful for and I do not know how to make the enough.
I am going to need to start writing my stories again, get them out of my head and onto paper. Perhaps if I can get them out I can make room for what needs to grow. The roots of my past are suffocating me and I cannot get away from them, I’m trapped in an endless loop of self pity and despair.