Daily Post 136: My Very Own Place

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I have been a complete and total fucking bawce for the past two weeks. Normally I would feel bad about  having a curse word in my first sentence. I mean… that’s kind of a trashy intro… But, this is me not caring because, at least for the moment, I’ve taken Life in hand and beat it into submission and things are finally mostly stable and / or working out.

 

I made it through the fourth. I did pretty well that  day I think. It didn’t start to hurt or feel lonely until the evening. I ended up going to a lake and listening to music while I watched the sun set. It was the same lake I went to on the second month of mom’s death.

 

On the second fourth I wrote a blog post, crying over my keyboard as I sat in a hotel room that I purposefully left too cold because what was the point of turning it up? Mom was dead. Nothing mattered, not even the cold. The cold didn’t hurt as much, couldn’t even come close to the pain I felt in my chest at having to accept the fact that it was two months.

 

At the time the most painful thing was the thought of going outside, of having to be around people, of having to actually bare the weight of mom not being here. I wrote through all of the emotions I had. I cried through most of it. By the time I got to the end of my writing I had decided I would get up. I would shower. I would go outside even though it would be painful and I would most likely cry more.

 

I would do those things because I had promised mom that even though she had died that I wouldn’t stay in bed all day. I would eat at least one meal. I would take care of myself, if only barely because I knew I couldn’t stop. I had to keep going because even though she knew it would be hard for me, mom wanted me to keep going.

 

That day, the second fourth, I went to the lake. I’m pretty sure I ran. A shitty run, but a run, which was more than I had thought I could do given the day.

 

This fourth, the sixth fourth, I didn’t run. I didn’t want to. I sat and I cried silent tears as I listened to music and watched the clouds change colors and when I was done I went back to the extended stay. I made it through the day without losing sight of who I am and without feeling like surviving  would be the most impossible task in my life. It was a somber day, a gray day, and I’m ok with that. It was a stone in the structure of who I am. A defining moment. One year will be a defining moment. Twenty seven years will be a defining moment. Maybe when I turn mom’s age. I can see that being significant to me as well. 

 

I marked my sixth fourth as somber, yes, but also as positive in my book.

 

I survived.

 

Not only had I survived, I had been productive.

 

On the fourth I applied for a townhome I found online and even got to tour it. The realtor was extremely nice and said he could work with my situation. I didn’t sit inside all day. I worked on moving forward with my life and found an avenue that was exceedingly promising. One which I wouldn’t need a cosigner for.

 

I found out on the fifth that I was approved.

 

I feel I need to write that again. Maybe in bold… and a bigger font…

 

I was approved for my own townhome.

 

The day after the six-month mark of my mom’s death I was able to, finally, sleep in my own room.

 

It was extremely symbolic for me. It made me feel like I’m actually doing something right with my life. It felt like a turning point. I’m figuring things out. I’m starting to stand up again, on my own.

 

I packed up most of the things in the extended stay and began moving into my new place that night. The sixth was a lot of back and forth to my storage unit. I didn’t have anyone to help with the furniture, but I got most of my boxes, which was nice.

 

The seventh was when Matthew threatened.

 

Right Brain: Hooray! We have a home!

Left Brain: Hooray… We’re getting hit by a cat 4 hurricane…

 

My area didn’t get much of anything. No damage, no loss of power. Having been through hurricane Floyd in South Carolina way back in the day I was actually pretty unimpressed with the weather. It wasn’t nearly as scary as that had been. As I said, though, we got really lucky. I know other areas weren’t as fortunate.

 

Because of the hurricane I wasn’t able to do much over the next few days and I sort of resigned myself to not being able to do much until Monday.

 

Sunday I did go to combat practice, which was  fun. I got to do some sword drills and see everyone again. Since I hadn’t been to a practice in so long there was anxiety over going back. I’m glad I did, though. It was great.

 

Oh, before I forget… I did hear back about the potential job. That was on the fourth as well. I didn’t get the job since they need someone proficient in 3DS Max and I’m proficient in Maya, but the guy loved my work and I guess my D&D themed resume completely made his day. It’s always nice to know your work is appreciated and to have positive feedback. So even though it didn’t work out, I had good feelings over the experience.

 

I can still impress people with my skills. I can still play “The Game” if I really wanted to.

 

So… That leads to this past week…

 

I suppose I should mention that Warren #1 will be moving in with me.  He’s currently still in South Carolina and most  likely won’t be here until November 8th-ish. He hasn’t  ironed out a few details, but he is moving in, sooner rather than later. I know I’ve mentioned him before. I’m not sure if I’ve ever written out the full story. It seems so long ago, and I guess in the over arcing story of my life so far, it is.

 

First boyfriend. First true best friend. First one year anniversary. Warren was actually my longest relationship by far. We were together five years. We had actually started talking about engagement.

 

First breakup…

 

I’m glad we’re still friends and that we worked through the negativity of our breakup. I’m glad he’s been able to help me cope with mom’s death, and I’m glad I’ve been able to help him with the issues he’s going through. We’re going on 14 years of friendship. That’s literally half of my life.

 

I’m not worried about sharing space or having him live with me, and I think a lot of that has to do with knowing each other so well. We’ve agreed that the townhome is mine, so if things don’t work out, he’s the one to leave. We have separate rooms and bathrooms. We’re sharing the office space. He’s paying his share of things. He’s interested in letting me beat him up with a sword. He’s ok with me being sad. He’s interested in meal planning with me and biking. He’s interested in this being a home, for both of us. Safe. Quiet. No drama. Both of us being alone with someone who wants to be alone.

 

Right now I’m enjoying the fact that the townhome is empty and I’m able to adjust to being here. Decompressing. Finding my routines again. Finding me again. Through all of the noise and chaos and tidal waves Life has  given me over and over for the past six months, I’m finding me. The me who is starting to stand on my own without the leg braces of mom to hold me up.

 

I’m looking forward to Warren being here but I’m also enjoying the bit of space I have beforehand. And for now I guess that’s really all there is to say about it.

 

The landlord is ok with me painting the walls. Even offered to buy the paint since they were going to repaint everything before I moved in. Since I want to do all the painting myself, because I actually like painting which I guess is weird because everyone I’ve mentioned this to always responds with how much they hate painting, my first month is being prorated for my labor.

 

… Prorated rent to do something that I want to do… Yes, please?

 

So not only do I get to make the townhome feel like mine because I’m putting time and effort into the space, but I’m able to have the colors I want for free. Currently I’m waiting on Warren to ok the color scheme I want to go with. I don’t think he’s all that concerned, but I want him to see the colors before I talk to the landlord that way on the off chance he doesn’t like something we can figure it out before buying the paint and there’s no turning back.

 

It would be nice to be able to start painting next week. Do a room a day or something. At least the walls. I would do the trim separately.

 

Aside from that I’ve bought a bunch of stuff. A bookcase, computer desk, and computer chair are the biggest things. The computer desk was on clearance at Target for 20 bucks. Pardon me while I feel thrifty.

 

It was nice being able to assemble things and unpack properly. I love putting things together. It helped me feel accomplished. Not only do I actually own things now, but my things are no longer hidden away in boxes in a storage unit. My things are with me, in my space, making it feel like I actually belong somewhere.

 

I got my computer setup. And I mean 100% set up. Not the little half setup I had at the extended stay on a crappy, tiny table. I mean both monitors, speakers, printer, external hard drive… the works. I love my beast and right now it’s completely dominating in all its unadulterated glory.

 

I have my art supplies and books out of boxes for the first time in what feels like forever. Once the walls are painted I’ll be able to hang my artwork and corkboard and inspirational things. That will really be the final touch on making the space feel like home. But it’s already so much better than what I’ve had for the past six months, or even what I had with Zane, since most of my things were still in storage even then, that I’m actually super content with where things are at.

 

It’s a work in progress, and in one week there’s been a massive amount of progress.

 

There was a bunch of extra coax wire all over the place from the previous tenants, and of course it was secured to the baseboards with screws. It couldn’t have been anything easy like just wrapping up the wire… no… I got to break out my power drill to take care of that mess.

 

Am I the only own who feels like a sexy badass using power tools for home improvement projects?

 

I have my bathroom set up. It’s a walk in shower. So much win.

 

I’m still on an air mattress until I can get the furniture out of the storage unit, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to wait on that until Warren is here. I’m tired of asking people for favors. Since I’ll be driving up to South Carolina to help him pack, then helping  him unload once we get back to Florida I’m pretty sure he won’t have an issue moving my china hutch, hope chest, mattresses, and futon. All of which are actually pretty easy to move. Especially if I rent a dolly for the china hutch which is the only thing that’s an actual pain in the ass because it’s so ridiculously heavy.

 

Let’s see… I got the Internet set up. And the printer, which actually wouldn’t work at first. Had to clean the heads of the cartridges, then everything was right as rain. Still not getting the mbps I should be, but the Internet is  doing better than what it was… which was 6.

 

6 mbps… Even Facebook was lagging. It made me want to punch things in the face.

 

I installed Guild Wars 2 again. That was my reward for completing my to-do list yesterday. Getting a pizza and gaming, which I did until  midnight. Got my  ranger to level 12… out of 80…

 

Corey is going to give me a code for the expansion so we can play together. He’s the reason I  went back to the game. He wanted some to game with… I’m not really doing much… Seemed like a good fit.

 

I’ve been going to boxing more regularly. I actually got new gloves since my knuckles got pretty chewed up with the wraps and gloves I got with my membership. I amused myself that day by messaging most of my guy friends saying how I got sexy new black gloves. All of them wanted to see these “sexy gloves”… so I sent them a picture of my hands in the new boxing gloves. Needless to say that wasn’t what they had been expecting. It was great. Made my day. XD

 

I went to Wednesday’s night combat practice. I ordered rattan earlier in the week so I could make my own swords. That came in on Friday. Since tomorrow’s practice is going to be held at a different location about two hours away I don’t think I’m going to be able to do much of anything with the rattan for about a week. Maybe I’ll luck out and one of the guys will be free one evening and will be willing to teach me. That would be super cool.

 

Still waiting to get my test date… That’s frustrating. Not really worried about it though since I have other things to occupy myself with.

 

That’s about it. That’s a lot of stuff though, and a lot of it is positive, forward moving stuff.

 

I can feel my metabolism picking back up with all of the boxing and combat. I actually sleep at night because I’m exhausted from being productive. And I feel accomplished at the end of the day because I’ve done meaningful things with my time, even if they are selfish things like fixing the Internet so I can avoid flipping over my new computer desk in blind rage from disconnecting during a boss fight…

 

Well… I think I’m going to go for now. I’ve grocery shopped today and did all of the prep work so all I need to do tomorrow is cook. This is the first week where I’ve been able to do my “weekend” routine.

 

Looking back on it, this past week was as perfect as perfect could be. There were challenges and struggles… and triumphs and rewards… There’s things to look forward to in my future…

 

I’ve made it six months. I’ve survived, and for a while that was all I was focused on. Survival. One day at a time. Sometimes one hour at a time. 

 

It finally feels like I’m starting to move past surviving. It feels like I’m starting to live again. It’s a good feeling. A warm feeling. Not a lot of warm, but more than there has been. It’s like a small bud blooming, and even though I know winter is  just around the corner and December is going to be whatever it ends up being, for right now, with where  I’m at, I think I’m actually able to say I’m  happy.

 

I love you, mom. I miss you. But I’m actually, truly, doing ok. It’s not just a phrase that I’m saying to myself, desperately hoping it isn’t a lie. For the first time since you’ve died  I feel like I can actually say that I feel happiness again. It’s not a broken or impossible thing for me to feel. It’s real. It’s there. It’s small and fragile and I’m scared that it’s not going to last, but I feel it, mom. I think about my townhome and I smile and feel warm and safe.

 

I felt like you should know that. I felt like I should tell you that I’m happy, and that I’m not sorry for being happy because you would be happy for me too if you were here. I know you would be proud of me. I know you would be geeking out over me getting to paint because you loved painting, too. You would be happy for me and that makes me happy, mom. Knowing that I can still make you proud makes me happy.

 

Thank you for still helping me. Thank you for everything. I love you.

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