These are my darkest days.
I can't remember ever having a lower point. Which sounds crazy, given the great tragedy & drama that has been Life Thus Far. I'm no longer on rough waters, I'm no longer even floundering... I'm just dead weight... still, and limp, and bruised from the inside out, and slowly sinking. I am just in a holding pattern, numb and waiting, and waiting, and waiting...... I can't even summon up a healthy fear of sharks.
A little over 2 years ago, the simple decision of one person whom I had loved and trusted for many years sent my existence into a crash-and-burn. I faced the awful experience of losing everything I had in life in one quick split second. The D-word is never pleasant, but in my case it was beyond painful- it has reshaped my life like a tornado dropping from the sky without warning and brutally rearranging the face of the earth, touching down and transforming it forever into a different thing in a matter of moments.
The heartbreak of losing someone I loved was only the beginning of it- I came home from a work trip (photography assignment in Arizona) to discover- shockingly- that my husband had left without a word while I was away, yes left with someone else, someone secret from the secret hidden life I was unaware of, and had left me alone, with nothing much at all besides what I had with me on that trip. I no longer had a place to live, I didn't have a dime to my name. I had no warning and no time for plans. One second I was tiredly turning my truck- sheathed in Arizona road dust- into our driveway, thinking about a nice hot bath and my old familiar bed... the next second, I was standing on the porch in utter shock, after discovering that my husband had packed up and moved out with no explanation.
Even though it's been years, the shock of that moment and the pain of it's appalling cruelty have yet to wear off. I can still feel it just as vividly as I did that day.
When I came to where I am living now, it was out of desperation. I had no other choice- it was here or the streets. And I came into this place knowing that it wouldn't be a good atmosphere for me. But I was assuming I'd get my shit together and be out of here in a month or two. That was over two years ago now. Doh.
I don't really want to get into detail about why being here is bad for me, because I live with an older relative who really didn't have to help me at all if they didn't want to, and I don't want to openly call them out. I do have a roof over my head. And I appreciate it, I know that I could have it a lot worse. But living here is just kind of killing off my spirit one excruciating day at a time. The way I have to live here is in complete opposition to the way I live my own life. There are conflicting views on life and how it should be lived between me and my benefactor, there are religious/spiritual differences as well. And in order to stay here, I am in a position now where I bow my head in pure subservience to someone else's ideals (though it's given the name 'respect', after 2 years it feels like subservience) It makes me sick inside to live this way. But, it's this, or the streets outside. I have nowhere else to go.
The one room I live in here has spartan bare gray walls. Nothing can be hung on them. No art, no colors or reminders of loved ones and loved things. It's about as cozy as a death row prison cell. Ghosts haunt this room too, though not the literal kind... I can still envision the relative who died in this room, and the sight of his body, lifeless, pale and still in the bed, while I stood there silently looking through tears, waiting for the coroner to get here for what seemed like forever... I can see my murdered little sister in this room too. I can picture how it looked when she lived here during her own hard times... I can still see her vividly, sitting at the end of her bed in this room, alive and telling me her latest stories and poetry and plans. And it makes me remember how happy I was for her when she got out out here and was so happy being on her own, and it hurts to think about what happened to her after, when she should have had her whole life ahead of her.
This room tortures me in it's own special way, both with it's hard memories and with it's lack of comfort. When I wake up, and open my eyes to see the grayness all around, I am filled with heavy depression. It does not get the day off to a good start, that's for sure.
I would have been out of here a long time ago if Fate didn't have another trick up his sleeve *shakes fist* Shortly after I got here my health did a nosedive, and long story short I ended up on Social Security on disability status for a chronic health issue. While I get a (super minuscule) bit of money every month from SS, it's nothing that anyone could ever live on (it's a 3 digit sum just BARELY, and that's all I get per month!)... I'd never be able to afford my medications, doctors visits, lab work, prescriptions, etc without the Medicaid coverage I get through SS. So, I can't work, at least not beyond freelancing type stuff from home, and even then, they have a limit on how much I can earn per month before they take away my benefits. And that limit is pretty low (again, it's a 3-digit number, and that's per month. Sigh) So, like many countless Americans, I have to choose between having health care, or having money to live on. Without health care I'd have no health, so, moot point.
And so I'm stuck living here, on the generosity (and therefore on the whims and under the rules of) my fundamentally-opposed-to-my-beliefs relative. Sure I could have found a very cheap, tiny apartment I suppose- but that would have required me to get rid of my beloved pets. And no matter how bad things have gotten, those are my babies and I'm just not willing to abandon them- I'd literally have to abandon them at a shelter, where they'd have about a 90% chance of being put to death because they are not puppies/kittens, they are older, and some of them have medical problems- blind dog, dog with thyroid problems that require daily medication, etc- and I know there's not much chance of adoption for animals in their situation. Especially when right now our city's animal shelters are facing massive overcrowding and decreased adoptions, due to the recession and the money problems it's causing for everyone. I love them too much to abandon them, ever. No way, no how.
And that's my sucky situation.
This is why I am so anxious about finding a mobile home. The rent on the lot is so, so low (only about 200 bucks with some utilities included!) that I finally have a chance, and a way to move out of here. It is a ray of hope. But it's hard to see sometimes. I'm just in a funk right now, because we have been searching for a place for months now and keep finding great deals that raise my hopes and then just fall apart at the end. So my nerves are beyond frayed at this point. I just keep waking up each day and waiting hour by hour for the Yes Call, the one where the answer is finally, finally, "YES we have a mobile home!"
And that will be the counterpoint, the turning point, because that will surely be one of the brightest days of my life. It will be a whole new beginning for me... independence, and freedom, and privacy ohhhhh glorious PRIVACY!!!
So I am at the end of my rope right now, but... I have tied a knot and am hanging on. If you know of any rituals or sacrifices to the Mobile Home Gods (should I offer up some plastic pink flamingos?) to move this along please let me know. Thanks.