"Edward Cullen! Why are you in Harry Potter?"
My grandmother doesn't understand that actors can play more than one character. I suppose she's allowed after six children and living in seven countries.
I did the 'big move' last weekend. I absolutely abhor packing, loading, unloading, unpacking. Funny enough, I'm satisfied with organizing my possessions before and after moves. That's probably the obsessive-compulsive disorder, though.
I was living in a hole where I wasn't happy with my situation. There were weeks at a time were I didn't leave the house. Even days passed where I didn't leave my room. Work and online pursuits were my only escape. It's not easy to admit this, but I felt so oppressed and judged when I spent time upstairs in the living room or kitchen. That was not okay. I was paying rent and utilities to stay in a 10 x 16 foot room, leaving only to use the loo or make oatmeal.
I informed my family of my unhappiness, after two months of pure torture. It felt like walking on three-inch nails every time I left my room. Partially my fault, if I would have recognized the pattern of not wanting to leave my room, I would have saved myself grief and heartache. Once in a while, there were times were we all laughed and enjoyed each other's company, but there was one person whose giggles were twinged with undertones of malice and hatred. I felt like an abused dog, constantly seeking affirmation and offering to go above and beyond to satisfy the sickening cycle.
Two of my maternal aunts and my younger sister showed up promptly at 1100h the next morning. Luckily, due to my transient life style, every object I own was in my parents' family room at 1300h. The house owner understood when I talked to him later, why the Swift swiftly escaped the prison cell. I felt like Atlas, released of his duty to uphold the globe. I slept soundly through the night for the first time since April.
Honestly, it does seem like a step backwards. Moving back to my parents' house is not something that I ever planned on doing, again. Yet there were two more reasons that compelled me, which I'll explain in the next post.
Also, I found there were lies and deceit spread during my stay in the Ross / Jade / Ivor house. Only by one person, but it still stings. From a person who I supported and chilled with during a sickness and recovery period, took a holiday with, and paid for dinners which I insisted were my treat. Hilarious how things are not always what they seem.
I needed to take a step back from everything. I turned off my phone for a week and did simple tasks on my parents' farm. Of course, there were the hospital visits and many hours spent in the church, but it was all worth it. It felt great to have a bonfire with my eleven thousand cousins and reconnect with what matters.
So, I promise to my future self to never again ignore my gut instinct. The gut instinct that made me literally sick, so ill I wouldn't eat food and just give my money away. I have lost twenty-five points since June, and not in the healthy way. I want to be whole again.
Edit to add:
I wrote this yesterday. I didn't know if I would post it, but it felt like a festering sore languishing in the 'Draft' category. Things are turning around. I've gained back five pounds. My mother wants to fatten me up again, must be a Mediterranean diet. Opposite of the South Beach diet, then.