Happy Twenty Wine-Teen, everyone! (Not claiming to have coined that one, but I also haven’t seen/heard it elsewhere, just saying! :P)
I invited the bffs for xmas nibbles and drinks and enjoyed the results of that motivation for unpacking and decorating in time for those festivities. And my nibbles were a hit! I made a secret concoction for them to each take home and enjoy (my own take on a halloween themed cocktail that I switched up to more winter aromatics). My new bathroom I decked out in white and I still can’t believe that was a choice I willingly made. I have always hated white! Always! But, I love it in my bathroom! I got a ruffled fabric shower curtain and a crochet trimmed rug. It all came together so easily and I just love it. I’m still figuring some things out. Like my bedroom is still in boxes. But the rest of the place has really come together and it feels like my actual home! It’s perhaps a bit lonely, but I have friends and enjoy the hell out of my butter-spinster-hermit life most of the time. I’ve reconnected with a couple of old friends I’d previously lost touch with and have enjoyed their company. OH! I also asked for and got a raise! This was right before my move, actually, so that was awesome! Getting used to my new rent and creating a new budget for myself is still a work in progress. This new rent definitely sets me back quite a bit as far as paying off my debt, but again, I love it and I know it was the right choice. Please send out all the good vibes that my lil’ Toyota lasts me another couple of years, though!
I have thought about writing here for so long. It was really tough times for me through that last slog in my old place. It is amazing what we will grow accustomed to out of necessity. I had grown so used to feeling ashamed about my living situation and blamed myself and my mental illnesses and even my childhood and parents for how I was living. It wasn’t until my ex came to help haul away some garbage after the move that I realized how many limitations and restrictions I was living with in order to survive and most of which had zero to do with me or my brain and everything to do with access! Had you seen my place before I moved you would have easily, though wrongly, assumed I was a hoarder. Dearest readers, I am not a hoarder, though I am incredibly sympathetic to what it means to live that way. I believe that I and my bio mother likely have some semblance of hoarding but in the no energy to do a thing or have access to handling a thing and thus everything is too much and it just sort of envelopes your whole world I grew up in that environment.
No one talked about my mother having a mental illness but I knew all along she wasn’t like other moms. I knew I could never invite friends to my home growing up, and not being able to as an adult hurt my fucking soul. When I moved to that place, back to my hometown, I had a mental breakdown. I think not even a year later I had another when I lost two close friendships within a month of each other (absolutely not the two I just recently reconnected with). It’s quite possible I had another last xmas, but it was a dark time over all. To know deep within myself that I will never get back to that level of ick in my house again is such a huge relief! To admit that I’d reached out for help to a couple of organizations for help and got no response is upsetting, but in the end I feel better and more secure in myself knowing that I was able to handle it on my own (and I can be proud for asking for help even if I didn’t get it). There is that little asshole voice whispering, “but what if you couldn’t do it on your own? What if you were still there now?” and I cannot entertain that shit because it will pull me back down into the worst of it again. Nope. No more.
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