“One moment the world is as it is. The next, it is something entirely different. Something it has never been before.” Anne Rice
Winter approached, and I was just as lost as I was during the time of the summer heat. Six months into the new life, and I was at a point where it was time to search for a new home again. Life continued to move fast, and I had to keep up.
I never believed I was an inconvenience to my family. I was welcomed with open arms, open hearts and treated as kin. I had people to talk to, a home for the children and the dog, a laid back lifestyle and a hot meal every night. Fast internet, my own space and a large backyard where I could crack away on firewood and sit at a bonfire if needed. It was a place to recover and find roots.
Those roots being… there’s nothing more important than family. Family was the foundation from which I was reborn. When I took Joe’s advice and began to whittle my life down to the core basics, focusing exclusively on what’s important, family was the starting line before my new race into the unknown.
I owe a lot of my sanity to my family.
Or perhaps I owe them some of my insanity from over exposure and a result of daily interactions. Either way, they picked me up when I hit the ground.
Even though I was comfortable and welcomed and never felt intrusive, I still had a nagging urge to escape. There, within the safety of their walls, I could be me… but I couldn’t be me. I had lived on my own since I was seventeen. The thought of living with family for a long period of time made me believe I was failing, and codependent on others. Even knowing the opposite to be true.
I was online searching through apartments, local trailers and cheap duplexes; at least once a day for a couple of months. Finding a cheap place to live in central Maine, that can accommodate two kids, in the late fall early winter with eventual heavy snow, close to the holidays, close to work, was an impossible chore. Add to that, a mastiff was frowned upon with most insurance companies and Shelby was out of the question.
Reminding me of the early days of the Island.
Feeling trapped, I continued to spend money, act the fool, replace my pain with material junk purchases, trinkets, movies, and eating expensive dinners as often as time would allow. Snagged me a couple new credit cards and at the end of the week I’d test my luck with the few dollars remaining crinkled up in my wallet and dabble in some scratch offs and lotto tickets. Sometimes I got lucky, but most of them were a bust.
Here’s the part that’s scary. The stuff that resonates deep in my core. Each time I spent my money, I’d feel nothing different. I gained no pleasure from the experience.
Sure, the food was tasty and filled my stomach. The nick knacks looked cool on the shelf beside the now completed trilogy of sci-fi movies. The book I was missing in the set is now where it should be. I can attend every block buster flick on opening night and get some popcorn.
The art tacked up on the walls is nice to look at and my collectibles have a fun geeky vibe, but that was the extent of it. I surrounded my universe with things I like. I created an illusion.
In the absence of my children, hanging out with Nancy and the handful of long time confidants was the highlight of my life. When lacking in those few social interactions… I was blowing cash like I could wipe my ass with it.
I had learned nothing from my time at the refuge. Seriously… it’s a dream. I’ve dreamed of metallic dinosaurs, deep holes in the ground, and sitting on the fence of a human sized wooden birdhouse. The birdhouse was atop a four, perhaps five hundred foot long thin pole, above a large body of water, with no land in sight, and each gust of wind blew the birdhouse side to side, bending to the water… its a dream. Dreams don’t mean anything. The only difference between one strange dream and another, is the lucidity of my time at the refuge. Joe’s place felt more real and interactive.
They’re only dreams.
I never woke from slumber dwelling on what I saw or experienced. Life would merely start over again. I’d think on it for a brief moment of time, but the experience was mostly ignored and pushed to the side.
Back to working and filling cash registers.
If I liked it? It was mine. If I wanted it? I made it happen. If I wanted to go somewhere or getaway with Nancy. I left. I had no other way to satisfy what ever hunger I had within me. Life was lacking, and spending money filled that empty space.
When shopping for a new home, I at least knew I was in a good place. I was never worried I’d ever be on the street. But I still felt the pull to seek new digs. I wanted to find my own path and literally start over anew. Depend solely on myself. Each time I came up short, I sought retail therapy.
If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
I buried my old existence and most of my past under boxes of unopened packages. Back to nesting in my own way. In my mind I was preparing myself for a new place by purchasing the items I wanted. Storing away boxes for the big move. I needed to be prepared. I had to be ready.
I needed things that define what I enjoy, just to say I own them. Unfortunately the debt exceeded my lifestyle and the spending dried up. The bills started rolling in like a tsunami.
Just when I reached a breaking point and thought life would drag me down to a point where I may lose my faculties, the unexpected happened. As if a hole appeared in the dark clouds and shined a beacon of light along my path. A brief window through to the other side of life, and quite literally something landed in my arms from above.
Finally, something good.
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