I haven’t updated this blog in a long time even though I have had more to write about than ever before. It’s been over a year now since moving back home and in with my mother, a hoarder. Things have improved vastly but progress is always slower than I’d like. Upon moving in here I started sleeping on the floor, in a room literally filled to the ceiling with stuff, not even a space to walk (I could just flop onto the bed from the doorway.) Those were dark times. I was still pumped with adrenaline and probably pickled in an assortment of other stress hormones that kept me going. My first inclination was not to clean the mess up but to escape – so I did. Whenever my health allowed, usually every three days or so, I simply got into my car and drove into the wild blue yonder. It was amazing. I discovered all sorts of mind boggling places, I started a wonderful travel blog, I found peace within my churning soul, and I learned so much. But then I’d eventually have to come home, and stay home, as I endured one health/body crash after another. The longer I lived here the more defeated I felt, the worse my health became. It was a snake eating its own tail and I had no solution, no out.
Sure, I cleaned what I could and did my best to work this out. It took me four months to even get far enough to get a real fucking bed but with every little improvement I had reason to claw further. Eventually I would be able to haul out the kitchen, the bathroom, and one bedroom. Still, everything was fucking nasty all the goddamn time. I could not keep this place even remotely clean. Since the kitchen floor was never grouted dirt collected in the cracks between the tiles and then spread everywhere whenever you walked over it. No amount of sweeping helped and I couldn’t mop unless I just wanted to create mud instead of dirt. My mother’s precious little dogs would occasionally break in down here and shit and piss wherever their paws landed rather than getting wet in the rain. I hate those dogs.
Because I had such a hard time reaching the sink the dishes were only washed once a week and flies began to build up. It seemed with every problem I solved a new one formed. Long gone were the days of running around barefoot, sleeping naked, actually staying clean after a shower, relaxing, or having any semblance of normalcy. Eventually I just fucking gave up. I was licked, defeated, and just so done. Even when new messes I could clean up arose, like spilling a bottle of ranch dressing in the fridge, I didn’t care enough to fix it. Not like I’d ever have anyone come over here. I resigned myself to being that person who has no social life because I live in squalor and don’t want any more headaches. Did I want to live like this? FUCK NO I DIDN’T. But sometimes you’re given circumstances you can do little about and that’s just life.
Then I left… for almost a month… and lived somewhere very clean, organized, without any clutter, or dirt, or flies. I took baths, I sunbathed, I traveled, I got myself back together, and when I returned home I did so with the renewed energy I needed to get shit done. I attacked my living space again. I hauled out the kitchen so I could reach every bit of the floor in preparation of grouting. I needed a floor I could fucking mop. I washed all the dishes, and kept them washed, I locked out the dogs, and started cleaning my bunnies and the cat box every three days while also putting up a ton of fly strips. I tore the fridge apart and scrubbed every last inch of it. I swept and swept and swept and vacuumed until I had gotten rid of half a yard worth of dirt. I attacked the bathroom with a steam cleaner and washed all the encrusted fly poop down the drain. Things started to improve again and I mean really improve, like this place looks like its suitable for people to live in again. Is it ready for visitors? Not yet, I still have a long way to go, but at least now I don’t think it’s bad enough to condemn anymore. That’s progress!
And as the flies die off and I grout the floor sanity starts to return. What changed? Well, if you’ve read this or any of my other blogs you know I have been busy trying to make a life for myself, trying to get a career going, and trying to obtain financial independence, which is nearly impossible for someone with as many health issues I have, but it’s going! Most of this was me frantically trying to chew my way out of this hellhole but eventually reality hit me. I am very likely going to be here a veeeery long time. It wouldn’t surprise me if I am here as I hit middle age. I stopped trying to escape. I stopped mourning the life I thought I deserved. I refocused on trying to fix my surroundings to be bearable, functional, and as inviting as possible. After I get done cleaning I will also be adding some fucking color to this beige limbo.
A peace like I have never known has settled over me. For the first time in my nearly thirty-three years of existence I don’t feel anxious. My sternum isn’t shooting sharp pains, I’m not burping up stomach acid every five minutes, my hair is growing back! And with this calm, this knowledge that I am doing what I can and there’s no point in pushing myself past my limits, I am once again firmly within the belief that all this has some deeper purpose and reason. I’m here because I need to be here. I’ve grown so much over the past two years that I have people in their retirement years telling me they didn’t learn enough life lessons to live as confidently as I do until their lives were almost completely lived.
Lessons I have learned:
- Don’t take shit from anyone. You’re good enough not to need any BS. If you know how something should be done in your life do NOT let anyone else talk you into anything else!
- Demand respect, don’t ask, demand.
- Take care of yourself first and foremost or else you’re going to burn the fuck out.
- Always have an escape plan and a financial cushion. Never depend on anyone.
- Be yourself always. If people can’t handle that then they aren’t worthy of being in your life anyway. Keep those that do accept you close. They’ve earned it.
- Never stop fighting.
- Be positive whenever you can. The happier you are the harder it’ll be for anything to rain on your parade. No one can take away your joy unless you let them.
- Be kind. Karma rewards kindness in the most beautiful ways.
- Always strive for your goals but also accept where you are in life. Life is not always what you expect it to be and that’s OK.
- Never let your mind or body become stagnant. Be involved. Participate. Surround yourself with other positive people, places, and influences.
And so that’s where I am now… deep cleaning instead of travel blogging. Will I return to travel blogging? Of course, I still really love it! But I am not going to beat myself up for not doing more faster. That’s insanity. And with this new calm I hope to inspire it in others and draw people who are at the same level of chill to come and sit down for a chat. Life isn’t perfect but when you take the time to appreciate the little things it’s not so bad either.
With my living space returning to functionality I find myself creating at a pace I haven’t done since I was in my late teens. I’m writing, I’m reading, I’m sculpting, I’m sewing my own bizarre fashion of clothes, I’m even bartering my skills for things I need and gifting people truly inspired pieces I am actually proud of for once. A sense of playfulness and whimsy has crept into every iota of my being and I can’t help but smile. Sure, whatever I do from here on out will still have the goal of making a few bucks so I can earn my way out of here, but more importantly I’m doing it because it makes me happy and I know I won’t regret trying. All my work, be it writing, sculpting, or otherwise has gained so much from this new relaxed mindset. Pride and joy fill every detail. Yep, I’m good. Are you?
