Not at home in my “home”

22 Feb

Just over 1 year ago my son and I left the only home he had ever known and moved into our current apartment. Just over a year later I STILL do not feel at home in this place. It is not my home, it is just the place where I am living and I have no idea how to change that, or if I even want to. I still do not like calling this place “home” and only do for a couple of reasons. 1) For my son, so that he knows that his home is with me and because he is really too young to understand that despite the fact that we live here it doesn’t feel like home to me. 2) It’s a force of habit for me to call wherever I am staying home. I could be on a trip, staying in a hotel and I would call it home for however long I am staying in the room.

I could spell out in any number of repetitive ways that this isn’t my home. As a matter of fact I know that there have been several instances in other entries where I have said either the same thing or something similar and while I really do feel that way I don’t see the point in saying it over and over again. This is one of the times where that kind of repetition doesn’t help, in fact it may actually do more damage than good, but it is a truth that I can not escape. (And to be honest I am not really sure how else to say what I am feeling.)

Maybe it would be different if I had been the one to actually want the divorce, or if I had been able to find an apartment that really resonated with me rather than one that was going to be available when I needed it to be and who knows maybe it will feel different after everything is technically and legally finalized rather than being kept in limbo. I don’t expect my feelings toward my apartment to change quickly, if at all, but I can’t and won’t deny that I am feeling that way.

I have spent the last week trying to not be aware of the date because I can remember the date that my son and I picked up our keys to this place and the days spent driving back and forth across town to get everything moved. Desperately trying to stay in control of my emotions because I was being helped by people that I didn’t feel comfortable being emotionally honest around. Fighting the part of me that I couldn’t prevent from silently wishing that this was all a nightmare and that I would wake up to find that my home and my life were still in tact. Trying to be strong because my son deserved for me to be and knowing that I was failing him because it was all an act. Knowing that I was doing what I NEEDED to do and resenting that fact. I remember so many conflicting emotions, most of which I still struggle with on a daily basis.

Just like with New Year’s — I don’t want or need to be reminded how much time has passed. It’s passed. It’s FAR more time that it feels like it has been. Being reminded of that fact is just adding insult to injury and I have to tell you I really do think I am suffering enough. I don’t know how, or if I even want to change the way I am feeling with regards to this apartment not being home. That may sound bad, but one of the presiding reasons behind that thought is the fact that my son and I may well be moving again in a few months so that we can be in a better school district for when he starts going to school. Knowing that there is a possible move on the horizon begs the question of is it better to start feeling at home here because it would be a sign that I am maybe starting to come to terms with everything that is going on or wait until after the move and have this place be a place of transition that can theoretically be left behind as my son and I start to move forward. (Right now there is no way of telling whether or not everything will be legally finalized by then, but it is a possibility and IF things are finalized by then waiting to try and feel at home somewhere new would be more logically understandable.)

Whether I decide to wait and figure it out or decide to start making a major effort now the fact remains that no matter where my son and I live I am still completely surrounded by things that do and will always remind me of the world and life that were ripped away from me. There is really no way around this particular roadblock. Not even if I had all the money in the world, which just adds to the feeling of helplessness about what is going on. I don’t expect anyone out there to have any answers, but I definitely don’t have any and don’t know where else to turn. I’m lost, I’m stuck, I’m all alone and I’m not at home in my own “home”.

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Posted by on February 22, 2015 in Letters to Self


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