So, I’ve been without internet for awhile now. You’d think I would have gone crazy and given my mental state when it all began, I probably would have. Things were dark and black; my only thought was of running home and chasing my problems away with the false comfort of familiarity and family. Unfortunately, those are shallow escapes, quickly washed away by the realization of why you left in the first place. Things have changed, not completely, but enough.
My father-in-law took the job two hours away and they are moving. We don’t know when, only that they are. We’re moving, too. In October. We looked at apartments, we have furniture picked out and ready to purchase, everything is moving forward. I still need to get my name changed–I’m hoping to do so before we leave. It’ll make it easier since we only have one car.
I always feel awkward typing out my emotions and issues here. They’re misunderstood and misinterpreted. If I say I want to run home, everyone assumes that the husband and I are on the rocks, we made a mistake, or we’ll never work. No one considers any other factors. One very important one is that I have no one to talk to when he makes me angry, upsets me, or anything of the sort. He’s my only friend and the only person I talk to outside of family. So, it definitely adds to the strain. Not to mention that you’re put under a microscope when you live with parents, especially ones whose ideals of “married life” are a bit, um, ‘special’.
I would say that even his own parents don’t get it, but they barely even know their own son. Which is seriously messed up. How can you live with someone and not know them? My mum is an alcoholic, that’s her excuse, but my dad knows me well enough to not do some of the stupid shit I catch his parents doing. I’ve confronted my mother-in-law about it only to be met with severe confusion. The things she says or observes with him are so off-base it’s like she’s looking at an alien lifeform through a faraway telescope.
My thoughts are everywhere as I contemplate what this move means. It isn’t simply moving, it’s a step. A long climb up a huge, towering cliff riddled with falling rocks and debri. An extraction from a familiar life, finding yourself instead in some sort of strange place with seemingly endless possibilities. I’m excited and a little frightened. I want my own place so bad and I have these moments where I’m sitting and thinking, “soon, this will be my couch I’m sitting on, not someone else’s. The things I have will be mine.” It’s a strange feeling.
There’s still a long way to go, but at least we’re going somewhere instead of idling. I get antsy when progress stops and we remain at a standstill. I’m progressive, I want to constantly move forward, evolve, change it up. I can’t stand just… existing. What’s the point?