Okay. Let’s be serious. There are approximately 12,000 things on my mind these days but right now at 12:07am CST there are two things that have been bugging me for the last week that have gotten me out of bed. Granted if sleep would come easily, I would likely continue to ignore them but there was a crap load of coffee at Panera today. So yeah. First I’ve been thinking about posting something on here lately. It’s been a while and my life has officially been turned upside down.
As of May 31st the Jones family became homeless. Not cardboard box homeless, maybe mortgage and rent-less is a more accurate statement. We have entered into…never mind I’m too overwhelmed to remember what phase we are in. Shit. I have to keep reminding myself I even have a plan.
We are living at E’s brothers house. A nice roomy house, with an incredibly laid back guy but it’s a bit of a challenge. The dog. The country. The carpooling commute. The lack of alone time. The fatty foods. But I’m grateful to save up a bit more money and to slowly transition into a whole new way of life.
Our plan is to be out of OKC in early August. So there’s job hunting, apartment panic, and a wealth of other stuff that I’m trying to not think about right now. I’m not particularly excited yet. I’m just really overwhelmed and trying to talk myself off the ledge of uncertainty and too much country food.
And number two, I keep thinking I should call my grandma. My grandma who I love dearly, who is quite possibly the reason you may like me. She’s funny. Kind. Catches wild turkeys. The best biscuit maker around. But I’ve come to recognize that there’s some sort of bittersweet emotional response to my childhood and what she (and those family memories) mean to me. I’m starting to think a counselor might be needed to resolve said paradox. The memories of my childhood and my grandparents on Beaver Mountain are lovely. Love. Fun. Fishing. Digging taters. Fried taters. But there’s also this underlying dread. Maybe it’s the fact that my dysfunctional father is a constant in my life with them. Or that I was a lonely child who felt like she had to please everyone. I’m not sure. But I don’t like it. I feel as if I owe these great people more than my inability to deal with the emotions. But sometimes it’s just easier to ignore it all. And I’m not sure facing it does anything but make my guilt subside and bring up another set of uncomfortable emotions.
And I suspect this is tied to leaving. And how when I told my grandma she said “I don’t know what your grandpa and dad are going to say about this.” And up until this one decision I would have let that dictate what this pleaser did. Keep everyone happy. Just do what you need to do to not upset anyone. Guess what, that never really works out for the pleaser.
She also said, don’t forget about us. All I could say way, Beaver Mountain is in my blood. And it’s true, it’s as much a part of me as my blue eyes.
But at some point, I have to be me, figure out how to let 7-year old Christie rest in peace, and just call my grandma. It is what is.
Really folks. This blog offers nothing other than giving me a place to try to lay out my thoughts. That probably sucks for you…sorry. But at least I’m rarely here, right?
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