Here is that writing from 2009...
FIRST APARTMENT AT 35 - October 29th, 2009
I currently live in this ultra cute little attic bachelor-ette suite in a 1920's house.
It's a tall yellow house in an old part of town, where the tree's canopy the street, just outside of downtown E-Town. I am three stories up and have a great view of beautiful old houses all around me. I am 8 houses away from the football stadium to the south, Rexell place few blocks northeast and Northlands just east of me. You could say I live in the heart of the city.
Four apartments co-exists together in this house. A small bachelor in the basement, a large 2 bedroom on the main floor, a sweet one bedroom on the second floor just below me. And at the very top is me and my two room(kitchen and living room/bedroom) cozy apartment. In each apartment you will find a single female and her cat. I have not learned all their stories yet, but I have only seen women coming and going from the suites in the month that I have been here.
I feel liberated and honored to live in such a place with so much character, history and a feeling of unity amongst it's residence.
To get to my apartment you travel up a cute winding staircase that just seems to go on forever, and ever, but when u get to the top, your view is wonderful.
………So why is it then, that I cry every time I get to the top of my stairs. Why do I find myself so lost, that I can just stand and stare at nothing for hours. When my legs get sore, I sit at my kitchen table my only furniture and stare for even more hours. I look around and everything feels so strange to me. So empty, void of all life, unloving and just plain cold. Not to mention I have no source of distraction, no TV, no Internet, nothing.
My home is like an enemy to me. I hate it. I am angry at it. It ripped me from my life. It is my new jail. But then feelings of anger turn into feelings of betrayal, because it is so cute and innocent. So inviting and warm. How can I be angry. So then how do I feel... lost. Lonely.
I leave in the morning and I come back and nothing has changed. There is nothing to clean up. There is no one to greet me at the door. It is quiet and peaceful. Nothing is misplaced. Everything is in perfect order. Too perfect. There is nothing for me to do but sit and be and eat. I made spaghetti with nacho cheese sauce. Turning to food to help me deal with life has risen it's ugly head again, I am embarrassed to say.
I have a blow up bed that I crawl into nightly and struggle mentally to get out of bed in the morning. I have a coffee maker that has become my best friend. As I sip my coffee on the east facing emergency escape out my back door I let the tears stream down my face.
I let all my grief wash over me. I allow the pain of not living with my children seep out through my eyes. I allow my grief of closing the door on 17 wonderful years of marriage come up like a tidal wave. I allow my heart to break over the loss of my career. I allow old family hurts to raise up and join in the moving of the emotional waters. I allow the loneliness and isolation to embrace me.
And I just sit in the morning sun and sip my coffee as my emotions release like a tidal wave over me. Wave after wave cleanse me. The birds sit in silence watching me. After what feels like hours, it's all over. So I get up and I start decorating.
How many times through the years have I longed for my own place? My own space? How many times did I wish that after I cleaned something it would just stay clean? And stay clean for more then a few seconds. How many times did I just beg for some peace and quiet? And not random moments of silence but the kind I could command at will. How many times did I long for my privacy? Space where I could do what I wanted without judgment from others. Having moved directly from my mother to my husband, how many times did I wonder what it would be like to live on my own? Did I ever imagine it to be like this?
So why am I allowing it to become such a negative thing? I keep coming back to what others must think of me. I left my kids with my husband. That can't be good. what type of mother could do that? Wait, the fact I left my husband.. period. That's going to have some negative backlash from those close to us for sure. What about the fact I quit my beloved job. All these mistakes I have made.. mistakes that society frowns upon. mistakes...... ?
Enough of what I think, people may be thinking of me. I do not regret my decisions.
So I got a cat! Now I have something to clean!! And she is a damn messy cat! lol Now someone greets me when I get to the top of my stairs, full of purrs and love for me. And my kids come over frequently and love moms new place. And guess what? I encourage them to make a mess and invade my space. I got Internet and feel connected again and watch TV through justintv.com. I put up pictures and decorated in my witchy flighty own way. And now I crank the tunes on my karaoke machine(my only source of equipment to play music) and spin in circles and dance at my freedom!
In the mornings, I bounce out of bed. Laterally lol. I go for a run, I meditate and I try to do other things then eat. And everyday my apartment becomes more like home.