ping… There is kind of a sound in the back of your head when you have those realizations that change things, you know, like a light bulb over a cartoon characters head? Maybe not a big change, but a change. I’ve been trying not to let the bull shit with the psycho landlady get me into a funk. I’m climbing out of the hole I fell in and finally feeling better. I am not sad face girl. Or at least I wasn’t and I don’t want to be.
So it hit me, the ping. The other night when I got to sit on the right side of the bar with a beer in hand and friends at my side. That’s a beautiful thing. There was no pressure to paint a smile, it just was… sometimes it wavered and the eyes glassed but there was comfort and love there. And it was open. They know where I am, that I’m not totally back or if I even know where “back” is. And they’re okay with it. That makes it easy for me to be okay with it. My friends have this bomb-shit-diggety pad. (I think it’s a requirement to be my friend that you have a killer pad. It sure seems that way because they all seem to.) Sun deck and hot tub and big yard and car-lot/museum and crazy-cool occupants with loving, happy energy. They’d invited me to join their space and share when they found this pad. When I declined initially, my reasons were solid and still hold true. But there was an unease with my answer that I didn’t share with anyone really, I just ran it. Maybe I didn’t really fully get it, I just knew my heart said to stay put, they’ll love you no less. They love me no less. So last when they reiterated their open invitation for me… I again declined, only this time a little different reason hit me (ping). Right now I reside with my sis and her fam. They are awesome. They have changed so much from the days of being my baby sister and her husband and baby to my sister/friend and her family. We have an easy relationship – all of us. Her husband is, for all intents and purposes, my brother. He has been there for me just like my brother has, when shit hit the fan and I need support against the evil ex. He wanted to murder-death-kill his ass with a vengeance, not because my sister was pissed but because this ass-clown hurt his family. Plus I think he and my brother had a good time planning really nasty evil shit to do to get him back for years of crap inflicted on me. Anyway, I digress. They have welcomed me and given me a place to be for as long as I need. It also lets me see my doodle grow and hear him excitedly tell me stories I wouldn’t otherwise hear. But, yeah… it is their house and I live with them. I can’t walk around naked with a towel on my head after a shower. I can’t watch what I want to on tv unless everyone is in bed or I ask permission. My furniture, (very cool) kitchen equipment picked up over the years, decoratives, photos, books (okay not all my books, I gotta draw the line somewhere) are all packed up and in storage. I look around and though everything is familiar and comfortable… it isn’t mine. The ping comes when i realize that if I leave here to move in with other friends I love in a home that is already theirs it will be the same situation less the child. I’ll still feel just as displaced.
I’m in my thirties and with the exception of the 22 days at the psycho ladies house of fung, remembering I slept there twice (slut!), I’ve never lived alone. ping. And though I have to say the hot tub does call to me… I think it’s time to stay put until I can make that happen.
