What a long strange trip it's been!

Last time I posted, I mentioned that I would be in the process of moving and wasn't sure when I would be able to post again, because my stress level was high, I was in packing mode, and was just generally exhausted all the time.

The details were the killer.  The phone calls I had to make to arrange for things like cable service.  Shutting off the utilities.  Getting rid of DirecTV, since it's not "allowed" at my new place, although DirecTV was eager to tell me that Forand Manor could not forbid satellite service.  However, it would have required HUGE hoops to climb through and quite frankly my feeble mind could not deal with it.

There was the shopping for things that would replace what I was leaving behind.  Now that I think about it, I should have taken pictures of what I left behind.  But no one would believe that I allowed myself to live that way.  I don't believe it.

I was a hoarder, plain and simple.  I have to admit it.  Although I wasn't at the point where you couldn't walk around the apartment, still there was just too much stuff.

Although I have housekeeping skills, the sheer volume of stuff made it difficult to keep the house clean.  And I was that depressed by the amount of stuff that I didn't really feel like cleaning.

But that was then.  I have a much sparer place, smaller, so that hoarding makes a real impact and this place wouldn't allow it anyway.  Thank heavens for that.  But even now I am regretting some of what I left behind.  There is nothing I can do about it now, which is fine.  I am making a new start.

My friend Michele was concerned how I would feel about leaving the place where I lived for a good 30 years.  Relieved is the word I'd use.  Although I had good memories of the place, they are colored by the bad times.  The years I spent under my dad's control and my inability to get out from under.  The pain of drawing the curtains closer in and not letting anyone pass the threshold because I was too ashamed of the situation I was in.  The yelling, the shouting, and the abuse.  How I allowed myself to, again, live in such conditions.  I allowed some friends to see into my world, but they didn't know the half of it.

But that was then, even though I'm still dealing with the repercussions.

And this is now.  This is my new reality.  I have a place I can be proud of, although there is much I still need to buy to make it a home.  A microwave.  Air conditioner.  Shelving unit for the kitchen/parlor area.  Tubs for the pile of boxes still in my room.

I have managed to get rid of some since this photo was taken.  Most of it is art supplies.  I need to organize those.

I need to get back to making art.

I need to start living my new life.

later,
lin