The fire has changed a lot of things for me. I had to move….luckily there was an empty apartment in the same complex that I could move into. My old apartment was cleaned out and taken down to the studs. There it sits, awaiting permits to be rebuilt. Every morning as I walk to my car, I pass by my old apartment. You can look through the living room window, in to the bare studs, and out through the gaping hole that used to be a slider into the charred backyard. My new apartment is the same set up as the old one with slight variations. The walls were placed in different places so that the rooms are different sizes than the old place. The doors fit better here, and there is wood laminate in the living room instead of carpet.

   It is starting to feel like home. Having renter’s insurance has allowed me to replace most of my lost belongings. It’s odd having all new stuff all of a sudden, but it’s nice being able to completely redecorate. I’m not trying to recreate my old look. I had a lot of vintage pieces and everything was white. I don’t have time to curate a new collection, so I am mixing in what is left of the old with new things. I have always loved an eclectic bohemian look, so that’s what it is. Antiques and macrame mixed with hides and ethnic prints…..all in neutrals and minimal clutter. That’s my look.

   Putting the house back together is the easy part.Putting my life back together, that’s the difficult part. I am finally able to sleep again. The kitchen is in working order, but we have no dining table yet ( I am having one made), so even when I cook there’s nowhere to sit and eat together. The living room desk is where every homeless item landed, and it’s driving me crazy since it’s the only place to sit and eat. I still have address changes to put in, and insurance things to deal with….and school, and work,  and life. I keep thinking that I should see a therapist, but I can’t even look one up and make an appointment. Sadness and loss hits in waves. Either I am manically trying to get everything done, or the depression cripples me. Most days I am fine. I am fine until I am not, and then I snap. I’m not feeling much support from friends and family (including my boyfriend), and the weight of everything lays heavy on my shoulders. People keep asking me if I am getting settled in with everything how I want it. I was in my last apartment for a year and a half and everything was not yet how I wanted it. A few weeks is not enough time for me to get things how I want them, especially when most of my time is already accounted for with school and work and driving the Kiddo around. When people ask how the new place is, I want to answer that it is an unlivable mess. It’s full of things I don’t want and empty of the things I need. I can’t seem to fit things back together the way they were and nobody else seems to care. But nobody wants to hear that, so I just say that it’s fine.

Fine is the most that I can hope for right now. Ok is as good as it gets. Some day, I hope to get back to being good.


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