Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Long time, no post, I know I know. I haven't posted on my Wordpress blog, either. Or on one of the LJ communities I'm a member of that's all about fitness. Heck, I haven't been so great about eating right and exercising lately. I've put on some holiday weight, not gonna lie. I'm still at/around 165. If I can maintain this through the end of the year, I'll be okay.
Mostly, I just need to vent right now. Except "venting" isn't really the word. Decompressing works well. Unbottling, maybe.
25 years ago on Friday, we moved into the house. The house I got in the estate. The house I've been avoiding for the past 3 years because of all the memories tied up into it. Oh, I visited a few times, but not a lot. Not if I could avoid it.
I had been planning to go over to the house to bug-bomb it so I can get back into the process of moving in. Wouldn't that be funny if I move back in on the 16th, 25 years after I moved into it in the first place? But Stupid Brain was trying to convince me to not go. "You can do it tomorrow," it was saying to me. "You're not feeling up to it...just let it slide one more day. It's not going anywhere, so no need to stress yourself out." I called Leo this morning to have him tell Stupid Brain to shut up.
Thing is, I had a dream last night that while I was at the house, a former neighbor stopped by to say hi. She was proud of me for taking care of it myself. Then her mom came over too, and said she was proud of me. I told her mom that it was her struggles with cancer that helped my parents when they each got the disease. Then I remembered that she died before either of my parents did. That's when I knew it was a dream.
I kinda broke down. I wished it was my parents who had visited me in my dream, telling me they were proud of me for finally taking charge. Midway through the year I had made an end-of-the-year "bucket list" of things I wanted to accomplish. I said that by the end of the year, I wanted to do things like lose some weight (although I didn't lose as much as I wanted, I got a good start/foundation and have a good plan of attack once I'm on my own), I wanted to graduate (not only did I finish school, but I'm graduating with honors - 3.91 GPA!), I wanted to break up with The Guy (let's face it...he's been enabling me to hold myself back the same way I enabled him to be lazy and leech off me by making me mother him when I could barely keep myself together), I wanted to go to Blizzcon (even went to Blizz HQ!), and I wanted to visit Leo (which was the BEST trip I've ever taken). The last thing on my list was to finally face my fears and deal with/move into the house. Oh, and get a job, but I really think I need to move and get settled before I do that or I'll come up with excuses like "I don't have the time." That's Stupid Brain talking.
So here I am...it's the end of the year, and I have to do it. I just wish my parents could have been in that dream, telling me they were proud of the progress I've made. It's hard not hearing that. And going to the house is a reminder that I'll never hear it again.
An hour and a half phone call and 8 Kleenex later, I finally got ahold of my girly-balls, put on my shoes, and went to the house.
For the most part, it's intact. The plants were all dead because I stopped going over there and tending them. The electricity has been on, but the gas and water have been turned off so it's a bit cold in there right now. It smelled a little musty, but not bad...kind of like the basement of a library. Nothing a good dusting and some Febreeze can't handle, as well as opening the windows on a nice day. Despite my black thumb for the plants inside, the holly bushes out front are rampaging, and I had no idea we had an ivy plant around the side of the house but sure enough the vines have climbed up past a living room window.
I finally pulled out some garbage bags to get rid of the dead plants. I got rid of most of them. And I swept up the dead leaves that they had dropped all over the floor like it was eternal autumn in there. I also cleaned out the fridge and freezer of the few things that were left and most likely beyond inedible to the point of probably being toxic. I discovered that my brother never brought the nice corningware dish that our neighbors loaned us (full of spaghetti for post-funeral meals) back to them like he said he would. He probably didn't even finish the spaghetti. I'm not venturing to look into that thing right now. It can continue to live in the fridge for a little longer. Sadly, those neighbors have also moved, and the husband died about a year or so ago.
I also took my camera, set it on the video recording, and did a walk-through of the house for Jezzie. There are times I sound like I'm out of breath walking around. At one point I heard a sniffle in the recording, and I realized I was more wibbly than I originally thought. That "heavy breathing" was really just deep breaths as I made sure I held myself together. There are a few scathing comments about my brother and relatives and the state they left the house in (that I should be cleaning up) in the video too.
I came home, stopping by my apartment's dumpster to toss the plant corpses and toxic "I think that was once considered food," and then collapsed in the apartment for a bit. Then the tears came. They don't seem to want to stop either.
I'm not sure how I feel right now. I don't know why I'm so afraid of going to the house. I think part of it is that I know my neighbors have been VERY kind and have been helping to take care of the lawn and checking to make sure it's secured and stuff. I feel bad because I know I'll have to face them and say thank you. They are incredible people, and I know this. But I feel like they'll be mad at me, so I want to run away like a child even though I am pretty sure they'll be just fine and incredibly understanding for everything I went through.
I can only deal with cleaning the house a little at a time. Overall, it's not bad. Practically looks like I can move right in. I get angry at how much of a disaster my relatives made of it, so I not only have to clean the relatively neat areas they left untouched, but also have to clean the messes they left. Pillows on the floor? A pile of clothes here and there? Half-filled trash bags? Those weren't there the night Dad died. That's their fault. And I know I should pick it up, but it makes me so angry to see it. I know if I clean it up and put things away, their mess won't be there and will no longer be able to make me angry, but at the same time I just don't want to touch it.
I need to get the gas, water, and cable turned back on, and check to make sure the fridge is okay (it didn't feel like it was running cold enough to me). And once I get the place straightened up, I can move in. There's really not a lot to do, but it can be so hard to do it.
I just wish I knew why I was so reluctant. Is it because I didn't really grieve? I went from taking care of my sick father to taking care of a lazy roommate without really taking care of myself. And now I'm ready to grow up and get out of the apartment, but something is stopping me. Is it because despite being unhappy here, it's a known discomfort rather than facing an unknown future where I could potentially be incredibly happy or even more miserable than before? Am I--the girl who moved into college AND to Paris without seeing either location--afraid not of the surroundings of a known house, but of the unknown "adventure" of being an adult on my own again? I won't be alone for long...Jez is watching the video right now and wants to move up here and be my roommate ASAP. I think I have hooked her on the house.
Maybe part of it is that the task seems so daunting. I want to clean it up, but I want to clean it up my way. But it would be so much easier if I had someone there with me, at least to talk and keep me company while I put things away. I brought my iPod with me today, and should have been listening to my "Upbeat Gym Rat" mix, but instead I caught myself muttering under my breath about how my relatives made me so angry about the state of the house.
I'm cataloguing what I need to do in my head. There's not that much. I COULD be in there this weekend if I tried hard enough. I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of leap yet. But it's just a hop, skip and a jump, so move your little rump, Ailishy! Right?
I have a feeling I'm gonna have a good cry tonight.