Looming Anniversaries and Other Filthy Tales of Home Ownership

So, it’s been awhile again. I know. I get caught up in the machinations of life and working and crafting. That’s not an excuse. Just the way it goes. Where were we? Dear Fatherinlaw died in December and we put him next to Darlingmotherinlaw. So in all of this time, what my brain has actually been working on all of these rituals in life. There are rituals in every part of our lives. Built around all of these things that we must cope with. Birth, death, marriage, working…all of these things have these elaborate things/ceremonies that we all follow. And these are also the things that hold us together as humans, I suppose.

I own my house, now. Finally. It only took 3 years. Another ritual that ends with a giant bill in the mailbox. And now I sit amidst the craft horde, trying to decide what to do next. I thought I would get to this point and there would be some giant pointy arrow sign…blinking in some general direction of what is…should…could happen. Let me just tell you about that arrow. It points everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. And it stopped blinking a long time ago. It’s not helpful.

So I sit here. Looking around. Feeling trapped by where I landed with this man that abandoned me in the wilds of Dipshitville. I think about things. I think about this entire bit of life with him. How I used to tell him that he was wasting our time together on things that didn’t matter. Of course sometimes we didn’t see eye to eye on what mattered. Because what mattered is gone now.

So I think of that ritual of saying good bye to the things that matter to us. And to the security and the love that they offered. The ritual of blindly starting over in a land that is completely unfamiliar. The ritual of finding yourself in the all encompassing darkness. The ritual of moving forward when the map has suddenly become a guide to a place that no longer exists . You’ve seen that map. The one that shows you the roads before the apocalypse but doesn’t tell you where the zombies lie in wait.

I don’t know what the next step is. I’m drowning helplessly in trying to do this all on my own. I don’t know where to go. I have no idea what to do. Hell, I can’t even make myself supper most nights. It’s way too much commitment and energy. I’m just flailing. The answer may come. I don’t have a plan. My head is down. I keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I do know one thing. I am okay on my own. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. Fawn over me. Pay me fake compliments. I don’t need anyone to fight my battles. To defend me. I have stood on my size 7s. Planted firmly in the ground and not looking back. I’ll continue to do that.

So too much thinking? Prolly. But I’m still here.