Sold the house. My house; our house. Signed the papers the other day, without any consideration of the implications. Just another signature, same one I use to sign for a parcel or a leave form at work. So, as of December 15, my birthday, I will be homeless. Oh, I know I am not REALLY homeless, as I appreciate how blessed I am compared to many. But let me wallow for a moment without being an understanding, left-leaning, social worker; I WILL NOT HAVE AN ADDRESS. For the first time, ever. The plan is thus: if I get a job in Vancouver prior to that date, I will be moving to Vancouver. Buy or rent, not sure--depends on what the market is doing (and I soooo don't understand anything related to economics. I am still at the "why don't they just print more money" stage.). If nothing comes up in Vancouver, then I and my two best furry friends move in with Mom (they know her as Granny). This is a place I last lived in when I was 17 years old. In December this year I will be 43. Not a bad thing, I mean, I LOVE my mom. She's awesome, a peach. But somehow the idea of waking up in my old bedroom, which has remained the same as when I left it (complete with Wayne Gretzky posters on the wall---I was a Canadian teenage girl after all, of course I was in love with a hockey player---okay, I still am, but that's a secret) makes me crave an Ativan and a a glass of wine. Anxiety encompasses me. I know I will be fine, but really, if I have to change my address officially to the one I used before I was old enough to vote.....?
I am trying very hard to live in the moment, experience the present, not freak out about the looming, dark, vacuous future. But here's the thing: it is very hard to plan for the future, to take care of the things that need taking care of without thinking about it. So, today I went around and divided the house into lists: sell, keep, give away, junk and ?. After, when all of my/our possessions were classified, I dissolved into a messy, soggy, noisy mass of tears. As I lie on the bed, wailing away, Peaches came up and settled her little wise self against me, purring and warm. I woke up two hours later, soggy pillow, puffy eyes and no further in my tasks.
Where does it come from? Where do I get this strength/resolve/emotional numbness so that I can do what needs to be done. I'm freakin' out here. What if I don't get it in time. This place belongs to someone else on December 15.
All I want for my birthday is an address.
A Toast for Tony …
7 years ago
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1 comment:
I will be praying for you. Mostly because I have been where you are. There's only one difference, I knew God had my back. I knew it and He proved it everyday. I didn't have a job for four years, and was on no public assistance of any kind. I had no credit cards and no credit. It was cash on the barrel or nothing. I didn't want rescued so much as toknow I was going to survive somehow. Yeah, I get freakin out. Even now years later, married and an address, we're all freaking out. Can we keep what we have? What if we lose out incomes again? I don't know how this all turns out. Here's all I know for sure, Q. God has my back. Do you have that assurance? I'm praying for you.
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