"Homesickness is not always a vague feeling, nostalgic almost beautiful emotion, although that is somehow the way we always seem to picture it in our mind. It can be a terrible keen blade, not just a sickness in a metaphor but in fact as well. It can change the way one looks at the world, the faces one sees in street look not just indifferent but ugly... perhaps even malignant. Homesickness is real sickness... the ache of the uprooted plant"
~Stephen King
First off, I should acknowledge that today is my 19th year of blogging, and oh my, the places I have went! From the Bush administration, to the big AOL Journals migration to Blogger, to the many wonderful photo challenges I have shared with friends, to my own migration from the big Bay Area out pricing of affordable housing, and the eventual purchase of our house, and of course, the eventual sale of our first house last year. Big stress stuff. And all that without mentioning surviving the Trump administration. A thing I didn't think possible. But keep in mind, that was an attitude I feel quite vindicated about, in light of his taking Top Secret nuclear program documents to his Mar-a-Lago estate in Florida, after the asshole was voted out of office!
This year has been difficult. In some ways it has felt like the last 19 years has somehow rolled into past last year. The move from the house was a shitshow. I am still picking up the emotional pieces. I am tired. Heartsick. A little lost. And, well, scattered. The move was a huge part of it, but catching Covid-19 and a husband retiring didn't help. Neither did the murder of our Chevy Equinox, in a hit and run, in the wee hours of a chilly October morning. But I guess Covid-19 has had the most profound effect on my life. Little by little the Long-Covid seems to be healing itself, but it is a scary thing to think about a virus having such a deep effect on me almost 9 months later. It's an invisible monster, living inside your body, reminding you every day of your mortality.
I wish this post was more filled with joy for having blogged all this time. I want to feel more positive, but I am finding it so hard to find joy, which is known as depression. I am working with a new therapist to try and breakthrough my sadness. I have hope, and hubby is carrying the weight. Because of him I do have a lot of moments of joy. We still have our movies, and the fur-babies. We have music and jaunts bird watching. I have a good life, I just need to find it again. One positive thing did happen recently to mix things up. Our landlord is letting us stay put for at least one more year. I can stop worrying about having to move again. I'm home.
Things feel like they are trying to transition from all the painful negativity to a safe and quiet existence. I have a lot to work on while I am in this condo... this home... like learning to let go of the life I left behind in our home. I try to not think of the house. I haven't grieved it yet, so, oh goody, THAT'S coming! Right now the thing I need to let go of is my life in the Bay Area. All the places I grew up around, all the memories and ghosts I was used to dealing with. I guess I grieved it wrong or something. Or if I am being honest, not at all.
I'm still bargaining with the universe over it. I search the rentals for ANYTHING we can afford, ANYWHERE in the Bay Area, and of course it's always for nothing. Affordable housing in California is practically nonexistent, but the Bay Area recently surpassed NYC in lack of affordable housing. My old life is always there for visiting, but sometimes visiting, and then leaving, hurts so much I think all it does is set me back. Trump didn't successfully get San Francisco off the map, at least not yet, so I must learn how to balance love and sorrow. Who knows what the 2024 election will look like? He could get back into office, and then who knows what button he will push.
Sorry... it was all the uprooting talking just then.
"Monsters are real, and ghosts are too.
They live inside us, and sometimes, they win."
~Stephen King
~Me
August 23rd 2022
