Pavlov’s Dog

I could have been writing this whole time, but it would have all been the same. It has been one month since my house burnt down and I am in the exact same position I was in three weeks ago.

I finally made it over to my next house.  I would love to say that the wait is over, but it is not. We’ve moved stuff over, but it is not finished. I’m about to just start staying there and live like a squatter, I don’t even care anymore. But even then, it is only temporary.

I knew before the fire that where we were was not permanent, but now everything seems so pressing. The future is eminent. It is now.  Oh, if we could only have what we want, when we wanted it.  Poof – new house with everything in it! I should stop doing that to myself. It only makes things worse.

Unfortunately the future is still unknown. We have only looked at one place and I didn’t really care for it. But honestly we don’t have time to look at houses. It’s a vicious cycle. Work on moving into rent house, don’t get to comfortable because you’ll be moving into your house, look for your new house, stop looking for new house and move into rent house, work on moving into rent house. Over and Over and Over.

I’m retracting my statement that it would have all been the same. Some things are not the same. Leaving the house is not the same. Every time I walk out the door, I question whether what I’m leaving behind will still be there when I return. I have developed anxiety. For those of you that know me, you probably know this is a big deal. I’ve never had anxiety. I’ve always been a “whatever happens” kind of person. Now, I’m constantly a “what if this happens” kind of person. I HATE IT! I hate the thoughts that go through my head after every move I make. I can’t stop. I can’t turn a corner without some doom and gloom thought passing through.

Not having a home makes me anxious. My purse is full of all kinds of crap. It’s disgusting, but I’m such a mess there’s nowhere else for these things to go. They don’t have a place. Nothing has a place, so I just carry it all around with me. And every time I open my purse it reminds me that we have no place and I get anxious all over again.

The wind also gives me anxiety. Its scares the shit out of me actually. And then it pisses me off. I’m like Pavlov’s Dog.  Wind = Fire. Now instead of enjoying a breeze, I search the sky for smoke. I’m sick of being scared and anxious.

I’m sick of everything. It’s time for a Chance and Shandi Vacation!

On that note I will stop, with my pity update. Hopefully, next time you hear from me it will be more uplifting and positive. Let’s all keep our fingers crossed.