Stranger Things At Home

Over time, I tried to ignore the uncomfortable feelings I had in our place, or I would make it a point to be out of the apartment as much as possible by hanging out with friends. Even on certain days off I’d have a whole day away with my D&D Pathfinder Campaign, which at the time was a godsend for me. Then when I began looking for work again, I was at the apartment more often trying not to spend, and applying for jobs. Feeling stuck there was suffocating me.

It was so intense that I even experienced one of the worst panic attacks of my life one night while watching TV alone waiting for James to get off work. I was paranoid, anxious, and couldn’t sit for more than a few minutes. The sensation was very similar to when you were in school trying to pass a note to a friend and you were being watched like a hawk so it was always nerve-wracking to find the right moment to pass it. I honestly felt like someone was watching me, and that was a first. Yes, I’m a natural scaredy-cat, but this was 100x worse.

I did get another job, but by then it was too late; I was miserable and terrified in this place and it felt like it had a hold on me; like I would never be free. Some of you are probably thinking that is crazy, because I could just wait for the lease to be up and then we’d move again. However, we had moved so much in the past 2 years alone, that it was scary to imagine doing it again so soon for one, and two, we would need to save up and come up with a plan to move somewhere else which wasn’t going to happen while James was working, I was working, and neither of us had time to go and explore possible new homes in other states.

In terms of the weird happenings… There were a few times that I had sworn I’d closed a cabinet, and then I would return to the kitchen later to get something and it would be open again. I have an awful memory, so at first I just thought I was that forgetful, but after it happened a few times I was sure my memory wasn’t that bad.

Another unexplainable incident involved the shower curtain. I like to keep it open (it’s a weird thing I have about open doors etc. being less scary than closed curtains and doors) and I generally only close it if we are expecting guests. I was home on my day off, and had just taken a shower. Opened the curtain to get out and go change. A few hours after running errands and watching a bit of TV, I go to the bathroom and the curtain is closed. James was at work; he hadn’t been home since I showered, so it was odd and pretty unsettling to say the least. At the time I thought maybe I closed it earlier and forgot to reopen it for some reason, but part of me was sure I hadn’t closed it. For anyone who thinks it was Zeus, it certainly wasn’t. He’s not the brightest, and he’s way too lazy to close a shower curtain.

So maybe I’ve made myself sound insane, and that’s fine. What I know is my truth, and if you are focusing on the logic or facts, you have missed the point. It didn’t matter what was actually real; it mattered how I felt about these events. To any friends or family reading, I apologize for not sharing this as I was trying to prevent any possible judgment or mockery about it, and I was also partially in denial to try to alleviate the pressure I felt there, hoping it might just dissipate. As you might guess, it did not help. Denial is never the answer, kids. The heavy darkness I felt on my back only got heavier and darker as time passed, and it was one of the larger factors that led to my current status.

I do miss my boys dearly, but being back in the state, even for just a couple of days was torturous and though I had a slight hope that I wouldn’t feel the same about that apartment as I did before I left, I knew deep down that I would always feel that way. I did enjoy my little family reunion in the time we did have, and snuggles on the couch with Zeus and James were a brief respite from the overall experience of being in that place again.

But You Can’t Take Connecticut Out Of The Girl

After what seemed like a nice long nap (it was only two hours unfortunately), I woke up and James and I spent the rest of the day/evening watching TV and ordering pizza.

If there’s one thing I miss the most about CT, it’s quality pizza delivered to your doorstep. My parent’s house is conveniently located JUST out of reach for almost all the delivery places here, so take out is pretty much your only option aside from dining out. In terms of pizza choices, we have the ever-reliable Pizza Hut (which is decent if you aren’t being picky about freshness and authenticity). If you are like me and grew up across the street from a Pizza Hut, you know that just the smell will take you down memory lane, reminding you of the salad bar in all its glory. Then there’s apparently an OK place called Anthony’s that I have yet to try for myself. My parents seem to like it when they get it though. It still doesn’t hold a candle to the North East in terms of deliciousness, but it’s something I think with time I’ll be able to get over. Or we’ll eventually get a really good pizza place down here. Hoping I’m right about the second statement. (I’m sitting in bed, it’s 4:25am and my stomach is growling and now I want pizza…)

While the pizza was delicious, and it was nice to have a night to relax with my boys, I was still overwhelmed with emotion and thoughts about being back in CT. There was something so natural, yet unnatural about being there that was irksome to say the least.

When we first moved into this apartment in February of 2016, it was out of necessity. Our situation up in Mystic was not working out due to a lack of jobs in that area, and though we both loved it there, we could not sustain ourselves for long with me looking for work, and the department in James’ company on the verge of being shut down. The reasons for moving back to Fairfield County were not positive, and to be honest, I believe that was where the negative energy originated. The loss of our first real home together was a huge blow to both of us and we were extremely sad to leave. Take that feeling of loss, and add to it the area where our new place was. We had gone from a safe, quaint and comfortable town, living right on Main St., to a not so safe area, not in the least bit quaint, with obnoxious neighbors and the thinnest walls imaginable. Oh, and the occasional gun shots kept you on your toes, too. Something never sat right with me there. Whether there was some kind of violent act, or other trauma that happened in that place years ago, something was off. I always felt a sort of oppression just being in the apartment. When I was alone with the cat in there it was even more apparent, and though my husband never felt it, it was definitely there.

Now, while I am open minded when it comes to spirits and energy, James is not in the least bit concerned with those things. He is the kind of person who will hear about some dark spirit on a tour and walk over to where that entity was said to be seen last just to see if it’s real (I don’t mess with spirits or haunted places). He’s also the kind of person who can sit through the most gruesome videos on Reddit, or watch violent horror movies without having nightmares after. It won’t surprise you to hear that he felt nothing that I was feeling in terms of the heaviness of the apartment. He humored me and listened, and it seemed he understood at the time, but deep down there was no way he could really empathize with me, or have any idea just how powerful this feeling was and how it was affecting me. I’ll try to explain it better and tell you about the various strange experiences I had, in my next post.

You Can Take The Girl Out Of Connecticut

There is a little secret I wanted to share only now because I’m back in Florida, but I went back up to CT for a couple of days recently. I only told three people about it really, and didn’t plan on seeing anyone, except James and Zeus (my cat). Long story short, the week prior my husband made the 17-hour trek down here by car on his vacation from work to visit me. He only stopped for gas and coffee, drove on barely any sleep with a temperamental back driver’s side window, and dealt with non-stop rain the whole way. I thought, to thank him and to get some extra time with him, it would be nice to drive back up to CT after so he didn’t have to do it alone again. That way I could also see my fur baby, even if it were only briefly. So we did; we left in the afternoon on a Wednesday, and then I was to fly back here that Saturday. I barely had two full days seeing as we didn’t get in until Thursday late morning.

As we got closer and closer to CT, I became more and more tense and stressed. It almost felt like because of how close together and polluted everything is, that the walls were caving in. It’s only been a little over a month since I’ve been away, but it felt like longer as we finally pulled into the parking lot of our complex. Aside from the exhaustion from driving since 10pm the night before, I was immediately brought back to all the feelings from my past (most recent, and further back to childhood), and it was almost too much for me to handle. I couldn’t even get out of the car at first.

I’ve touched on this subject briefly before, but one of the major reasons I left CT was due to the emotional build-up and experiences I’ve had there over the years. In my very limited personal studies of the supernatural and the power behind what we consider to be “hauntings”, one thing I’ve discovered, and held true to this belief myself since, is that places hold energy that is left over from substantial events or trauma. I wouldn’t even necessarily call them spirits, but more like an imprint of the energy that was there at one time. Some consider these haunts to be ghosts or full spirits of the departed, and perhaps they are. I’m not an expert, but I do know the basic principles of energy. It cannot be created or destroyed, so in that sense, when there is a huge build up of energy and spirit, where does it go? It gets left as a shell of what it was.

To me, CT is one, big, ghostly shell; it is a thin veil over the imprint of what my life was, and it sits there with that built up energy, just reminding me of all my most painful, meaningful, and joyous moments at once. However, the pain takes over in most cases, and it makes it difficult to bear being around to the point where I feel haunted and uneasy. The apartment is no exception to this either. Upon entering, I was tired so it didn’t hit me as badly at first, but I felt like time had stopped for a moment. Not in a good way, either. The thing that distracted me enough to push that thought to the back of my mind was seeing Zeus come walking up to greet me. It wasn’t exactly the most enthusiastic greeting I’d experienced from him; I’m lucky if I get so much as a look most days, so I was grateful for him just acknowledging my presence to begin with. Once we chatted with and bid farewell to our two friends who had been watching the place and taking care of our fuzzball, I promptly went to bed to get some much needed shut eye after the long journey…

Father’s Day Revisited

This past weekend was Father’s Day, and I was glad I was able to spend it with mine. I know a lot of people do not have that luxury and sometimes I can take it for granted. However, Father’s Day has always been sort of tough to figure out to me, mainly because I was never sure what my Father preferred to do to celebrate. Everyone likes food, so we usually go out to eat, but other than that, as my father is not a very vocal man most of the time, there was no way of knowing whether Dad wanted alone time or quality time, and if the latter, what that meant.

Mother’s Day is easy; my mom loves to do just about anything with us, and she always shows interest in things so you can get a pretty good idea on what to give her as a gift, or treat her to for the day.

This year for my Dad, we went to a local brewpub in St. Augustine that he likes, and then saw that new movie Rough Night. Both were great; my brother even graced us with his presence for late lunch and a stop for ice cream before the movie. It’s rare that all four of us get to do things together, so although we had an interesting morning with some arguing about what we were going to do, it ended up being a nice time in the end. In terms of dysfunction, holidays and stressful times are standard for bringing it out in us.

I think what made me realize just how difficult planning Father’s Day is, was the fact that it’s only been 4 years since my Grandfather (Poppi) passed. Normally, we would all go out to eat or go over to my Aunt and Uncle’s with Poppi and my father and the rest of the family, and it was simple and easy. Sometimes we’d go home and play board games or cards after but because my mother usually organized it, and we just included my Dad, we were never at a loss for what to do that day. I kept wondering what we did the Father’s Days before this most recent one. Last year I was actually in Florida visiting, along with my Dad’s friend. (it turns out we went to the same exact brewpub last year too. Funny right?!) The year before that, my husband and I (still just dating at that time) had moved to Mystic, CT and I believe I was working a wedding. For 2013 I’m drawing a complete blank. It’s funny how 4 years doesn’t seem like such a long time, but it definitely is.

I almost feel like I should start planning next year’s Father’s Day now, so that when it comes around I’ll be prepared and not have to fret over it. Then again, who knows how Dad will feel next year. Apparently when I did ask him what he wanted this year, he stated, “Some damn peace and quiet.” (he did not get this, but it seemed like he enjoyed the day despite that little detail…)

So You’re An Empath. Now What? Cont.

Pre-empathic awareness, most of my life I’ve been told that I’m too sensitive, or that I am very passionate. I took that to heart way back when, and have been trying to slightly change my sensitive spirit ever since. People can build calluses around their hearts, and watch scary gory movies enough to become jaded by the violence and pain. I was not and never will be one of these people. I still can’t handle watching a lot of gore or pain and suffering in movies without crying like a baby. For so long I tried to reassure myself that I could watch a moving film and not get teary-eyed. It was only recently, within this past year, that I hit my emotional limit. I felt like I was going insane with how sensitive and crazy my moods seemed to be.

Once I realized that most of the people closest to me in my life were also going through a lot on their own, something sort of clicked in my head. I don’t remember exactly where I was or how I came to the conclusion that I was an empath, but I do remember going through some of the signs and having almost every single one apply to me. I’ve put a list here for any of you who might wonder for yourselves, courtesy of Live Bold and Bloom:

  1. People point it out (this goes back to being told I’m too sensitive)
  2. You feel other’s feelings (when someone I know is in pain, I start feeling that pain myself)
  3. Negativity overwhelms you (either specific places, people, etc. but this is very true; they also say not liking malls is a huge sign and anyone who knows me knows this is spot on!)
  4. Being in crowded places overwhelms you (see my malls comment above… parties are fine if it’s the right amount of people)
  5. Strong intuition (my gut is usually correct, and I’ve started to trust it more)
  6. Pain intolerance (I’m fine with needles, but my tolerance level for other types is very low)
  7. You avoid negative media images (the biggest sign I noticed was this one. I never understood why my mom watched the news or sad stories on TV when it only made her sad after. I couldn’t handle all of that emotion so I learned to avoid these types of shows/movies)
  8. You can easily tell when someone is lying (while I can’t do a poker face myself, I can tell if information is being withheld or altered)
  9. You are more sensitive to stimulants/medications (why I don’t drink coffee and do my best to not take medication unless absolutely necessary)
  10. You often show up with the symptoms of those around you (this is pretty accurate)
  11. You frequently have lower back and digestive problems (also me)
  12. You are the dumping ground for the problems of others (I’ve been told I’m a good soundboard by friends and family)
  13. You often feel fatigued (until recently this was true, I just have to know how to fight the sleepiness with a healthy exercise routine and diet)
  14. You have a very vibrant inner life (this relates to creativity and having a passion for the arts, being close to pets and such)
  15. You are sensitive to sounds and sensory feelings (I cannot stand hearing two things at once, if the TV is on, I can’t stand music or another video from a computer or phone in the background and vice versa; this is also true when multiple people are talking and someone wants to put the TV on…which happens at a lot of gatherings with my friends)
  16. You don’t like too many things at once (I get overwhelmed if there is a lot happening around me or I have multiple tasks to get done within a certain time period)
  17. You manage your environment (there are specific ways I create a more relaxed environment for myself to find peace)
  18. You don’t like narcissists (this is a huge one)
  19. You can almost feel the days of the week (always)
  20. You are a great listener (I’ve been told this by many people)
  21. You get bored easily (me to a T, but this one is getting better as I find new ways to occupy my time)

Here’s the full article if you are curious to learn more: http://liveboldandbloom.com/08/self-improvement/empath-traits-of-highly-sensitive-person

The ways in which an empath hones their abilities and strengthens their core are still pretty foreign to me, but I have started learning how to protect myself and finding methods to compartmentalize my emotions and the emotions of others. As I embark on this journey I’ll be frequently posting my findings and experiences and the ways in which I am growing.

So You’re An Empath. Now What?

There are plenty of things that I’m learning about myself right now, and one of the major ones is figuring out how to hone my empathic abilities so I can find peace within, and in addition, help others. While it may seem like a random part of my journey, it is actually one of the most important parts. How I develop as an empath will directly affect my development in all aspects of my life. Some of you may be wondering what being an empath means. I’m still figuring it out myself, but here’s the basic low down:

Empath

noun

  1. a person with the paranormal ability to apprehend the mental or emotional state of another individual.

If you need an example, think of Deanna Troi from Star Trek The Next Generation. For those who are not familiar with the series or her character, she is a half-human, half-Betazoid (a race that has natural telepathic abilities). Troi serves as the Enterprise’s counselor and can sense/feel emotions in others on a very strong level or even, in certain situations, communicate telepathically with them. To be clear, I have nowhere near that kind of power. This is mainly due to the fact that she is a science fiction character and I am me, so most of the things Troi can do, very few if any humans can.

I think the hardest part about the whole empath awakening, was not knowing I was one for all those years. Subconsciously I feel like I sort of knew, but consciously I was oblivious. To expand a little further on what that entails, it isn’t about reading someone’s mind really. It’s about reading their energy and emotions, and feeling how they feel in order to understand them better. One of the main factors that make this gift so difficult is when no distinction can be made between your own feelings and the feelings of another. So you can imagine that someone who isn’t aware they are an empath would have a very tough time sorting through their own emotions without picking up extra energy from outside sources.

For all you visual learners out there, picture a house sitting in a residential area in the city. All of the houses around have kids, and they like to play baseball. Now imagine you are the yard of that house, and you have wayward baseballs landing here and there. The baseballs are energy from the people around you. Some land on the outskirts near your fence and the kids can easily reach through the hedges to retrieve the ball, and others are right smack dab in the middle of the yard and more of a nuisance to deal with. In addition, these outside emotions and energies can be from ANYONE. I could be in line at the grocery store, and pick up the stress from someone who was at the other end in the produce section. Before I had my epiphany, I would mistake this as me just being extra impatient that day, making myself stressed in response and taking on this random stranger’s stress as my own.

I will delve deeper into my discovery and acceptance of being an empath in a bit, but I hope this has given you a better sense of what it is. A good amount of you may have decided that I’m a loony and won’t continue to read on. However, I encourage you to do so, because if I am just crazy, then at the very least you can get some laughs despite that fact.

The Pottery Wheel

Going back to my first week here, my mother had signed me up to try a pottery class with her. She had spoken so highly of the teacher, and how going was her weekly therapy. I figured, what the heck I like art, I saw the movie Ghost. Maybe if I go, Patrick Swayze will come up behind me, teach me how to make something from clay, and all would be right with the world… That exact scenario didn’t happen. Although, I did learn how to make something: three things in fact. I’ve posted pics of them below in case you don’t believe me!

At first, I was still in shock from the move, so I was tense and anxious. While I was excited to learn a new skill, I was also expecting the process to be less complicated than it was. I always thought you just throw some wet clay on a wheel and let the thing spin while you shape it with tools and your hands. It is similar to this, but there are more involved steps and methods to it.

How to make a thing from clay:

  1. Cut your clay to the right size, round it out into a ball, and smack it down in the middle of the wheel to get it to stick. If it isn’t secure on the wheel, you’ll have a much less sexy scene than the one with Demi Moore sitting there with sludge all over her body.
  2. Once you secure the clay, turn on the wheel at a very fast speed and cover it in water.
  3. Center the clay on the wheel. This requires crazy Dragonball Z type hand motions and a judo chop thing; regardless, it was one of the more stressful steps, as I didn’t understand why I was doing what I was doing to see what the clay was doing.
  4. Poke a hole in the top of the clay with your fingers. I of course missed the memo on cutting your fingernails, and mine were much longer than appropriate (my nails grow stupid fast). This meant that I had an extra step, which was not pushing too deep into the clay for fear of going straight through the bottom.
  5. If you are ever unsure of whether you have enough water on the clay, you don’t. Add more.
  6. Stretch the top of the piece to the desired width. This was also a task for me. So much in fact, that my first attempt at a bowl turned into a little shallow dish instead. I didn’t properly check the thickness of the sides of the bowl, hearing Unchained Melody in my head, and I went too wide so that they cracked and broke off and started flying off the wheel.
  7. Forget step 5 at this point on. Remove excess water from the piece with a sponge, then even out the bottom inside the bowl/mug, etc. and the top edges as well. This is a lot harder than it seems.
  8. Depending on how tall you want your piece, you can pull up the sides. If you want a vase or pitcher, this is an extra part to the process. Pulling up the sides is challenging if you apply too much pressure in already thin areas and not enough in the thick spots. While you pull up the walls, you also have to watch the shape of your piece and feel the thickness of the walls.
  9. Carefully remove your masterpiece from the wheel and voila! You just made art; you are an artist.

These are just the basics. The whole process involves a bunch of different types of tools that I can’t remember the names of, but I can look at them and know what they do now. It also involves measuring and using different types of pressure with your hands/fingers/wheel speed etc. Anyway, I was able to make three pieces in the first class, so I felt like I didn’t totally suck at it. That small dish is actually going to be a food bowl for my cat, Zeus. The bigger bowl is perfect for ice cream, and the mug is going to be a gift. The first picture shows the pieces before getting fired, trimmed, and glazed. The slideshow shows the finished products. Voila!

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Putting Music To Lyrics

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been writing lyrics to songs. Most are not winners, but some are actually pretty decent. Being a singer, it’s fun to hear a tune in your head and start thinking of words to go with it, but for me it always stopped there. I could hear the basic parts in my head, and I knew how I wanted the rest to sound, however, I didn’t know how to accompany myself on any instruments.

That wasn’t for lack of trying. I took piano lessons for a bit growing up, and I did attempt guitar on and off for years. My relationship with piano is complicated because I always had trouble playing two different things skillfully at once. I never had the gift; I’m pretty sure I never will and that’s perfectly fine by me. I even promised my piano teacher in college that I would never play it again if she let me pass the test to graduate. In a nutshell, I had taken four semesters of piano in both Freshman and Sophomore year, and right before graduating I was told that I never actually passed the first semester… So I then had to study and retake the test to pass piano 1 if I wanted to get my degree. It was a whole thing, but she passed me. Though I’ll never really know if it was because I made a promise to avoid tickling the ivories forever or because I studied enough to scrape by.

Fast forward to last week where I woke up one morning and had a whole song in my head ready to be written on paper and put to music. As I’ve mentioned before, I am not good at following through on most things in my personal life, but when motivated enough and when I am guided by my emotions, there’s really no stopping me. The reason behind my newfound creative streak was very sad, but it was my passion and love for a friend that got me focused. I got out of bed trying to keep that song floating around in my head long enough to get it on paper. Then I walked into my parent’s room, found their ukulele and got to work.

They say that technology and the vast amount of resources available to us today are becoming crutches. I have to disagree a bit there. I think it’s only a crutch if we turn it into one. For example, if you rely solely on the World Wide Web to give you everything, then you are not using it properly. Like any industry, it is meant to be a tool, not the whole process. I’ve taught myself to cut/dye my own hair (sort of), apply makeup, fix something on my phone/computer/etc., become smarter in work situations, gain insight on personal relationships, and much more simply by typing a question in Google.

That being said, it won’t be surprising to you to hear that I found a tutorial that worked for learning the ukulele right off the bat. My first hour was spent learning 4 basic chords. CM, FM, GM7, and Am. Then using only those chords I had a complete song. Once I got going there, I then put other lyrics to music and by the end of the day I had recorded two brand new songs on GarageBand. I realized that I couldn’t write all my songs with just those four chords, so my next goal is to learn more chords and practice different progressions then keep writing as I get more comfortable with it. I can say this though; I love that instrument, and I REALLY missed singing. Getting a chance to feed that part of my soul has given me so much joy, and I am excited to continue exploring that side of myself again. The feeling isn’t unlike meeting an old friend after years separated, only to find that you are able to pick up where you left off. I’ve missed that friend, and I intend to keep her around this time.

 

My First Week In Florida: Living With The Rents’ Cont.

As I said, there are a lot of pros to living here… For instance, cooking meals is a thing. I love to cook, but the kitchen in my apartment up north was the most awful excuse for a cooking space imaginable. I mean first, it was a kitchenette, and second, the oven couldn’t even fit a whole turkey, let alone one of my cookie sheets. Then if you actually decided to cook something you had to open the windows, and close the door to the bedroom so the alarm wouldn’t go off… Unfortunately, for someone like me who enjoys cooking, it was depressing. Add to that that my husband’s job involved him working late nights, and we were on opposite schedules most of the time. So really, if I wanted to cook, I’d cook for myself, and I always felt like it was too much work for one person to eat, and the portion sizes would be hard to cut down on the recipe. Overall it was too much effort to bother.

The kitchen here is open and huge, and new, and just gorgeous. It pretty much says “Please cook in me!” every time you walk by. While I haven’t cooked since I’ve been here yet, I am looking forward to getting back into it and brushing up on my chef skills.

Another pro of living with the ‘rents again: WALK IN CLOSET. I don’t know about you but walk-in closets are a symbol of success. I mean if you are like me and can barely afford a one-bedroom apartment, you are not going to use any of that limited square footage for a walk-in closet. Walk-in closets are for people with real kitchens, real jobs, and real bank accounts (not some local credit union that only has one location…). I have my own spacious bedroom here, with room for a little table that I’m using as a desk, a recliner, a dresser, and extra floor space to move around. There’s also a huge window that overlooks the lake in the backyard for a great bird watching experience in the morning.

Pro number 3: New EVERYTHING. Now, this may not be true for all people living with their parents, but in my case, my parents had this house built in 2015 by their own design. So everything is brand new and clean. Not to mention, the energy is so positive and welcoming throughout the home. There’s no built up negativity or stress. The reason they moved here was positive, and there are so many happy memories already in this place. It is instantly relaxing to be here from the moment you pull into the driveway.

Some may not think of this as a pro, but because family is the most important to me, the biggest pro is having time with my parents and brother. Do we still want to kill each other? Oh yes, all the time. However, I also have this unhealthy need to be near my parents that’s only gotten worse as the years go on. I would go home more often in college since a lot of my friends were still in my hometown, but also for my family (I didn’t value our time together as much back then). Then after college, each year I’d want more and more time with my family, because I realized something once I graduated: They wouldn’t always be there. We only get so much time before we say goodbye, and you could lose someone at the drop of a hat. Having time with them now means so much to me, despite the circumstances. Plus now I have enough people to play board games… My cat wasn’t a very willing participant seeing as he only wanted to knock shit off the table and lay in the place where the game used to be.

Last major pro: Never feeling lonely. Even if my parents are both out and my brother is at work, I still have my dog, Thumper (he’s pretty much my shadow here). Or even if he’s with one of them I know they will all eventually come home. Don’t get me wrong, I value my space and my own time, but being an extrovert by nature, I need interaction and socialization to balance that out. I tend to go stir crazy if there’s no one around and I have nothing to occupy my time. Luckily, while here, I’ve been able to entertain myself when necessary, and also socialize with my family.

There are a few more pros, but the main thing is that while sometimes stressful, living with my family is my peace right now, and I’m grateful to have them with me on this rollercoaster.

My First Week In Florida: Living With The Rents’

 

As with any new environment, there is an adaptation phase that occurs. To be honest, I didn’t really feel like I had a lot to adapt to. I mean, my first few days here were spent either at the beach, a pottery class, the pool, exploring the area, or eating great food. The occasional slow Florida driver made me a bit frustrated, and the insanely difficult search for a place that sold bubble tea ended unsuccessfully, and is still ongoing…

The biggest adjustment has been being back under my parent’s roof. What almost 30-year-old wants to be living at home? None, that’s who. I know plenty of friends and family that are still living with their parents, mostly due to the fact that they can’t afford to live alone right now, or they can, but it makes more sense to save on rent before they do look to move out. However, most of the people I know living with their parents are not married… So my situation is a tad different.

The feeling is reminiscent of when I’d go home from college and Mom and Dad would have all these rules to follow again despite that fact that I lived away from them for months without any of these supervisions. Back then there was also the unspoken guilt my mother would emanate if you even looked like you were about to relax. Forget the fact that it was Summer break, if you were on the couch or sleeping when she was up cleaning, this cloud would come and hang over your head. She didn’t even have to say or do anything for it to affect me; it was just a general part of the atmosphere. To be fair, she had a lot of stress to deal with, so I don’t blame her for it, but it was still difficult to come back to after being at school in a very different environment.

 I think my parents forget that I’m almost 30 sometimes, and that I’ve lived without them for years and have survived enough to consider myself an adult. It often seems like they keep this tally of times I haven’t “adulted” well, then based on that tally is how many parenting points they get to cash in. Like when you trade tickets in at the arcade counter after getting so many, only to realize the amount of tickets you have just gets you that stupid sticky hand toy (the one where you hold one end and swing the hand part at a wall or person so it smacks them. Then like 5 smacks later it’s covered in hair and dust and becomes utterly useless).

That is the satisfaction I feel that my parents get. So many parenting points can only really get them one comment about me eating after 7pm, or how hunching is going to hurt my neck. I mean, they aren’t wrong, but it’s who I am. I eat stuff after dark sometimes, and I have neck problems here and there from my terrible posture. Once in awhile I’ll fail at adulting so bad, that they can actually get TWO comments in. But I digress… There are some major pros to being under my parent’s roof again too. I’ll get into those next time, because really there are more pros than cons…