Homesickness at 106


I’ve been so homesick lately.  It’s been almost four months since I moved into this new home, and I’m finally getting homesick.

Over the last few days, I’ve been looking around this home, and I realized that nothing about it feels like mine.  Nothing about it feels like the comfort of home.  I don’t see any of the useless trinkets that adorned my last home.  Instead, I see items that belonged to another person in another time.  The sugar bowls above my cabinets.  The ceramic that clutters my counter by the stove.  Inherited, ugly dishwear that we eat off of.  Foreign pots and pans that I prepare food on.

At first, it was like an exciting vacation home.  It was an escape from my ramshackle house that had strings like Pinocchio.  I was a puppet in my own home, and eventually, I was forcibly removed from that home with the final passive-aggressive jabs in a long, relentless series of them.  I had broken free of my failure to launch syndrome and was on the road to becoming a self-sufficient adult.

Now, I feel more helpless than ever before.  In my hometown, I could free myself of the bondage of my house whenever I felt like it.  There was a wealth of places I could go and see.  Here, I am trapped at the end of a beautiful, scenic private driveway in an idyllic little town.  To get off of this mountainous terrain, it’s a mile’s walk straight down a series of steep hills.  And even if I were to make it into town, there is nothing to do and nowhere to go.

I don’t miss the cramped nature of 511, with junk brimming from every tiny storage area there was.  But, now, I feel that there is no place of solace for me.  My bedroom was my bedroom.  All of my stuff was comforting, and my space was adorned with knicknacks of years past.  It was a representation of me.  I feel like this place is completely devoid of that.  This place feels devoid of me, and I’m beginning to feel lost.  I’m beginning to feel like I’m losing myself, instead of finding a place where I could discover myself once again.

There’s too many negative memories attached to that house.  So many, that they actually outweigh the positive ones.  In that house, I lived with Avi, without heat, in the most brutal winter I can recall.  I lived out of boxes, surrounded by piles of garbage and junk.  I was estranged from that house in warmer months as a means of escape.  I hit the bottom of the barrel with a miserable labor job, a serious drinking problem, and a completely hopeless future.

It was in that house that I was coerced into having immoral sex with Simon in a sick, twisted threesome.  I hardly remember it.  Most of what I can recall from the situation has a haze over it.

There were good things.  It was the place where Xan was partially unconscious in my lap on New Years’ Eve, and I fed him a special New Years’ Eve pretzel I made in the bakery at work.  It was the place where I first realized that I loved him.  That was the house where Xan and I first lived together as a couple.  It was the first place we made love.

That was the place where we started our life together.  It was the place we went back to after our wedding.  It was the house that our child was conceived in.  We brought our little bundle of joy home there, and slept on the living room floor next to his bassinet for the first month.  There, our son took his first steps, said his first words, and grew from a baby to a child.

Again, there was the bad and even the ugly.  Too much violence happened there, both physical, verbal, and self-inflicted.  It was a breeding ground for negativity.  Xan and I used to have these knock-down, no-hold-barred fights there.  I recall too many moments where I stormed up the stairs to escape him.  The whole last four months of our residence in that home was a complete disaster in our marriage.

In essence, I escaped that place.  But, is the devil you don’t know worse than the devil you do?

Positives.  Think of the positives.

This house has the potential to become my lifetime home.  Maybe I am just homesick because I spent six years in the last house, and only four months here.

This house is located in a safe area for my son, and provides a calm, free environment for him.  In addition, it has a better school district and provides better learning opportunities and support for him.

This house has additional space.  I don’t feel as cramped and caged, even if I do feel lonely and secluded.

Even though this house contains a lot of foreign items, it won’t forever.  I will acquire more items to replace the old ones that feel more like me.  It will become more familiar as time passes.

This house is not a money pit.  It is in good condition and was well built.  I do not spend a large amount of money on utilities, and there is hardly a threat that I will ever be without.

I will never be threatened to be evicted from this home.  There are no strings attached and the owner is very hands-off.  I will never find myself threatened or harassed over this house.

Xan and Beast are happy here.

It is easy to clean and requires little maintenance.  It might be a little more overwhelming, since it’s a bit bigger than the other house.  But, I don’t have to look at torn out walls and feel a sense of hopelessness and fear toward the condition.

I can be happy here.  I have been happy here.  Summers are far more temperate and beautiful here.  Autumn is gorgeous with all of the foliage.  Winter might even be nice with fresh white snow covering the yard and the woods.

It’s quiet.  I can think.

And one day, I’ll be able to get around on my own.  Even if there is really nowhere to go.  I’ll be less lost and I’ll understand the area a little better.

I’ll find my place here.  I know I will.  It’s just going to take some time.

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15 thoughts on “Homesickness at 106

  1. sweety, you just need some time to make some new memories here. This may be the house where your second child is conceived and broiught home to. This could be the house that you and xan grow old in. It could be where beast brings his wife to someday. Beast will have most of his memoires about this house when he grows up. One day it will feel more like home than the old house ever did. (((hugs)))

    • I don’t know why, but I’m just having a hard time seeing myself here. It’s so strange, because when I first moved in, I had all of those romantic ideas about this house. This was my place to start over. It was my place to go and heal.

      I know I’m expecting too much too soon. I get this idea that none of those things are going to happen, and I have no idea why I’m trying to blame it on the location. Maybe it’s because I have had those same romantic notions about the previous house. But, the problem with that house and one reason why I moved out here is because there wasn’t enough room for a second child.

      I always get disillusioned when things don’t turn out the way that I planned. I think it’s because nothing really turned out the way I planned this year. But, then again, I spent most of the year trying to keep a status quo that was just impossible. I clung to a concept of happiness that was static. I truly believed that if I was happy once, for the first time in a long time, then things could stay the same and I would continue being happy.

      I wonder if Non-Dx people live static lives? I know that’s just not possible for me, although I thought it could be. One stable thing about me is that I’m not stable. There will be few things in my life that will ever remain a constant. I have to wonder how much of that is the process of life and how much of that is just me.

      At least Xan and I are on the same page about a lot of things now. He’s over whatever he was going through and has moved on. He’s back to his old self. I like having that stability. The problem is, I’m still not over it. I’m still riding the aftershocks of it, trying to get life back in order.

      One of the problems that I’m facing is starting a new routine that sticks. Back at 511, life was predictable, just the way I like it. I got up, Beast got up, and we went running. Most mornings anyway. Then, there would be Spongebob and breakfast. By the time that was done with, there would be a shower and preparations to get ready to go to work. Then, commute, work, commute, home, pick up the kid, dinner, and relaxation.

      Everything changed all at once. I can’t run anymore, because the terrain won’t allow it. Besides, winter is about to set in, and running in the snow with a stroller just isn’t possible. Xan started working a way earlier shift, so I’m up at least two hours earlier than I used to be. The day seems to drag on and on now. I just don’t know what to fill the hours with now that there’s no work and no running.

      • In time I believe some of that feeling will subside. But I understand. Right now I am writing my 30 Challenge post about. the “what if’s”. My biggest what if is change. I am afraid to change anything, yet I am terrified of things not changing as I grow older. I think with our mental issues, it is hard to be totally at ease especially during change. Even if it is a good change.

        • That’s exactly the problem. It’s hard to be at ease during times of change, but for me, everything is always in a perpetual state of change. I still haven’t learned to except that I’m more of a changeable person than I would like to be.

          But, there are some things you can’t change. And that’s one of them. While working on me this summer, I’ve come to that understanding about myself. There are some things that I can’t change, and there are some things that I never will be. I just can’t be them.

          I want to be stable. I want to be reliable. I want my life to be predictable, and I want to have control. (Control is an illusion anyway, I know.) But, I can’t be, so it won’t be. There are days, like yesterday, where I’m going to wake up and I’m just going to be stricken down with depression. Those are the days where I’m just not going to accomplish anything. I have to teach myself to accept those days.

          But, I feel so crippled by it. I feel so helpless and out of control, like I’m just giving up. And then I feel like a loser.

        • yeah, I think though that we do have control on how we accept the way those tings are. But you aren’t alone in your feelings about life and change. It isn’t just you and how you are, it is because of your illness. Btw, everyone is changing all the time, I need to remind myself of that as well. So, it isn’t just you who is in a constant time of change. We all are. I sure wish that I could control my illness as well. I wish I could count on me thinking the same way everyday and always being in a good place. Hang in there sweety. You have come a long way this year.

        • Thanks, but I don’t really feel like it. I feel like I’m still in the same boat, paddling myself in circles. I guess it’s easy to feel that way when my whole life changed in one fell swoop, you know? I went from starting out my career to being a stay-at-home mom. I’m just glad that the guys in my life appreciate it, and support it. They’re the ones who think it was a good choice in the first place!

  2. Hi Lulu,
    I know what you mean about your old house, good or bad memories it was still your old house.
    There is so much of your life there, physical and emotional it is hard to let go.
    We’ve lived in our house for 25 years now, but my heart was always at my Mum’s ( much to my very understanding wife’s annoyance sometimes) and when Mum died and we had to clear it and sell it I was inconsolable for a long time. I felt as though everything we had gone through there was being purged from my life, the laughs, the tears, the birthdays and christmasses, the members of my family that were no longer with us, all disposed of, out of sight, out of mind, never to be visited again.
    I would have bought that house if I could have afforded it, in fact I would have bankrupted myself to live there as I couldn’t / didn’t want to let all those memories and emotions go.
    Even now I still miss that house, it’s smells and creaks and strange noises it used to make at night.
    I think more than that I miss the person that used to live there, and writing this has amplified that feeling.

    You’ll be fine in your new house Lu, just give it time. As you start to do things, get stuff for it, decorate, put your touches on it, it will feel less and less like a nice vacation house and more yours.
    Hopefully in 20 years time , you’ll be writing about how you weren’t sure at first, but how you grew to love it as you learnt to live it 🙂

    Take care lulu, I hope today is brighter for you than yesterday, and that the black dog isn’t bothering you so much.
    love n hugs xxx

    • We put so much into that house. We fixed it from an absolute shack to a family home. And even with all of it’s faults, it was still my home. It was the place that I had lived the longest in my adult life.

      I look at these walls, and they’re covered in wallpaper I just hate. It’s not me at all. Most of our decorations and pictures are still in storage. Decoration hasn’t been a priority. I look around, and it just doesn’t feel like me. The other house, well, I got to choose everything, right down to the color of the walls. I choose the carpeting, and where everything went. We furnished that house with a lot of hand-me-downs.

      Many of those belongings aren’t coming with us, because we have no room. This house belonged to my husband’s grandmother, and it came mostly furnished with nicer stuff than we already had.

      I have to keep reminding myself that I’ll get used to it. When my husband moved into my other house (I lived there before him), he brought a lot of his belongings, and didn’t really consult me before he started putting stuff around the house. I had similar feelings at first. But, after awhile, I started making memories.

      I have to remind myself that it’s going to take time. I had six years in the other house, some good, but a lot was awful. I’ve had four really wonderful months here. This is the place where my husband and I rekindled our marriage. This is the place where I saved my sanity. My son is doing so well being here. And we’ve all been so happy.

      I just can’t understand why all of a sudden, I feel like a stranger here. Maybe it’s just because the holidays are coming up, and prior to this, that was the only time I ever spent in this house.

  3. Could be Lu, could be any number of things.
    All houses at first sre someone elses, unless of course you buy new, wall paper on the wall, lights etc… Your marks on it will come with time 🙂
    I’m glad you’re happy there.. I honestly hope it stays that way.
    Have a good weekend 🙂
    xxx

    • I guess the difference with this is house is that I know the person who lived here prior to me. I know the whole family that grew up here, and by extension, I’m a part of it (I’m married into my husband’s stepfamily). 511 had been empty for fifteen years prior to moving in. I had no recollection of who lived there, though I had met them when I was a small child.

      And I have a little LOL for you. My son has already left his marks, several times. My little artist likes to color on everything. The hard wood, stained linen cabinet in the bathroom bears permanent marker now. Go us!

      • Thats brilliant lu 😀 and hopefully that start of a lifetime of happy memories that this house will bring you.
        Go us indeed :-D, o would lover to see some of his art work 🙂
        Slowly slowly lulu, you’ll get there soon.
        love n hugs xxx

        • Sorry lulu that should be i would love to see 🙂 x

        • I’ll go around and chronicle all of his scribbles one day. My mother tells me that my brother and I used to do the same thing when we were kids. We’re a very artistic family, apparently.

          It’s interesting to see how much he is like me and how much he is like Xan. Xan and I are both writers and vocalists. I’m a musician and he’s a poet. So, we can see that one dominates the other in our respective hobbies. My son sings, and pretty well for his age. But, the one thing that he does that is unique to me is drawing. I remember drawing at that age because I couldn’t write yet. And I would draw pictures of people and things to tell stories. I had notebooks full of drawings. Now, he does. But, his speech is delayed, so I might never know what the drawings mean.

  4. I think we all get a little homesick sometimes. And a house is something personal. You paint the walls, you do the renovating, you make it your own. But this new house will become yours soon. Give it a year and the good memories here will outweigh the good memories from the old house. No, it won’t mean you forget the old house, but it will feel more distant and less comfortable. You can do this – it just takes time. *hugs*

    • 511 already feels foreign. I walk in there to collect more belongings, and it’s almost like I never existed there.

      I think this might be a part of it, but I’m still feeling some residual effects from the Abilify. I did narrow down what was causing that dissociative feeling, and that’s what it was. I’ve since stopped taking it, but the problem begins with where I started taking it in the first place. I had only been here two weeks before I started it. Now, I have some memory problems that causes my memory to go spotty in the last few months.

      I’m in and out of thick spells of depression right now. I know it’s more than symptoms, but it’s those bleak moments that make this place feel so foreign. I haven’t really found my place here yet.

      I know I probably shouldn’t have expected to feel settled in here yet. At the other place, I had lived in that neighborhood practically my entire life. I knew the streets so well that I could actually go wandering around the town completely wasted, and still manage to make it home unscathed. I knew the names of every shop, and I knew the key players in the neighborhood (the guy who fixes cars, the busy body, the guy who works at the (insert essential place like a grocery store, gas station, pharmacy, etc)). Now, I know the members of my household, my in-laws, and the people at the martial arts studio.

      I’m a lot more isolated here, and I should expect for it to take awhile before I know every street. I don’t know the back way anywhere, and when I’m in the car with other people, I rely heavily on GPS (never a good idea around here… it’s easy to get turned around). I also feel like I’m at a distinct disadvantage, because my husband grew up around here. He can tell you where everyone lives / lived, the whole history of the town, all of the shops and where they are located – etc. I guess it’s just too easy for me to feel overwhelmed by the whole thing.

      I’m going to try to make an effort to get out a little more. But, I know I’ve never really cared about mingling with the locals anywhere I’ve been. I don’t care for community social events. There are just too many people I don’t know.

      I don’t know, maybe once I get onto a new cocktail, I’ll start feeling a little better about all of this. My life just feels so foreign and overwhelming. Everything changed overnight, you know?

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