The Aetna hold music sounds like the soundtrack for an extremely sad depression era silent movie. Either they’re really self-aware or some employee has a great sense of humor.
I’m home again, part three in less than 365 days, the past two years have been hard. Frozen to my bed unable to move, hard. Sad, defeated, and confused hard. I found my voice this year though, I got brave. I got angry. I got honest. I took my time back, and while there have been some significant cracks in the armor, I’m coming out of this better than I was. I found some confidence. I learned to ask for what I need.
I think this time it’s a fit, this home, I hope so because I can see the future and it’s going to continue to be hard for a little while longer. I try not to be a downer when I write on here, which is kind of why I haven’t posted in a while. There’s been so much happening that I figured it’d be better once I’m on the other side of it, I’m not, nor will I be for a while, so instead I’m going to focus on the little victories to try to prevent or postpone what feels like inevitable insanity.
While I’m not completely unpacked, for some reason my sense of urgency in this case has gone out the window, I am comfortable which is nice. I can sleep, which is surprising, and I’m having trouble being my usual curmudgeon self because there’s a lot of joy here. This free spirit loves a consistent housing situation.
I have never felt as lonely or as loved as I have in the year of jumping homes. My heart is split right down the middle, as if only part of me feels seen and the other part is still hiding away trying to avoid the trauma. Eventually the permanent stiffness in my muscles will relax, eventually this healing will help more than it hurts, because I’ve done this part before, I’ve done the healing part. I’m actually pretty damn good at the healing part, I bounce back alright, and that’s all this is. Growing pains. This time I’m a little older, this time I know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, even if it feels so far away. This time the fire is back. Passion balances out the pure exhaustion. This time I have a voice. This time I have a vocabulary.
Hope is paralyzing, but it is also energizing. I choose to have it energize me because I am tired of having it paralyze me. I am tired of feeling like a statue watching the seasons pass.
So I suppose, this is home part three. The healing part.