Fractured (and a Little Bit Lost)

I’m not going to pretend I’m writing my second blog post in as many days because I have anything particularly interesting to say. The truth of the matter is that I have nothing to do at work, and I am kind of grumpy, and I am angry at myself for doing something last night that I told myself I wasn’t going to do anymore. Plus, in typical Amy fashion, I am wallowing in existential angst and wondering what the hell I am supposed to be doing with this life of mine, that seems to be casually passing me by.

Image result for pixabay fractured

Right now I feel about as fragile as a piece of glass, and the smallest amount of pressure is going to be enough to fracture me into a billion tiny pieces. My emotions feel like a raw, exposed wound and I am struggling to keep it all together, even though all I really want to do is explode out of my skin.

I am so, so very sick of feeling this way. I feel like I post about it periodically, which I’m sure you’re all tired of reading about. But no matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake this feeling. I’ve been thinking a lot about where I am, and how I think who I am is being shaped by my circumstance, and my location. I said to a friend of mine on the weekend that I feel like I can’t really become the person I am meant to be until I get out of this state.

I don’t think it’s an uncommon thing, particularly amongst people in their 20’s, to feel like they’re still becoming. I think as a general rule, we have this notion that we’re not who we’re supposed to be yet, and that we have to spend the next however many years figuring that out. That’s certainly how I’ve been feeling lately. I feel like I’m not able to be authentically me yet, because I don’t have the freedom to reinvent myself into who I want to become. I feel as though I am living in this shell of myself, and that I need something explosive to break it open and reveal the real Amy underneath. Logically, I know that moving away isn’t going to change who I am. I know this, because I’ve moved away a few times, and I’ve always come back to my home town more or less the same person. But it doesn’t stop me from dreaming of the day I can finally have my own house. And when I think about that house, I think of it as being as far away from my home town as I can get without moving to another country.

What I think I need, is to move so far away that it isn’t easy to just come back home. I need something completely new and fresh, and different. Yes, wherever I go there will still be people who annoy me (thanks, customer service) and I know that wherever I go, my mental health is going to come along for the ride. I know that I will still have doubts, and states of depression, and fears and probably a lot of sleepless nights. I am not naive enough to think that moving away is going to change my life so drastically that I’ll wonder why I never did it sooner. But at the same time, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to believe that a fresh start can be cathartic, therapeutic even. At any rate, I have to believe that there is something better for me than what I have now.

I wrote this post today, because I needed to create something. I am stuck at work until 5:30 and every particle of my being is screaming out to make art, in one form or another. I feel trapped here, stuck in this godforsaken shopping centre, and this small square shop, and I am battling my very emotions, as well as my very irresponsible desire to just leave and never come back. But, as yesterday’s post will attest, I have a stupid adult obligation to stay where I am, at least until I have enough of a financial buffer behind to allow for the kind of freedom I so desperately crave.

Life is hard, and I’m angry and I kind of just want someone to bring me their dog so I can cuddle it.

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Responsibility Sucks

There is nothing fun about being responsible. Being responsible means you stay at home when you really want to go to see a movie with your friend, because you know you can’t afford it. Being responsible means getting up and going to work every day, even though it makes you want to drive a fork through your eye. Being responsible means staying firm about decisions you make, when all you really want to do is give in with reckless abandon, and indulge in forbidden pleasures.

Whoever decided that it was up to us, as adults, to bear the weight of responsibility must have been a pretty uptight kinda dude. It certainly makes me miss aspects of my childhood, when hard decisions were up to other people to make. What I need is for someone else, someone smarter than me, to make my decisions and then deal with the aftermath and the responsibility of those decisions. Or, alternatively, I need to just be more carefree, and throw away responsibility altogether. To be fair, neither one of those options are sustainable in the long term, but right now I’m having a lover’s tiff with responsibility, and at this rate, one of us is going to end up sleeping on the couch.

In a perfect world, I would have everything I wanted. In a perfect world, having to choose between my sanity or a paycheck wouldn’t even be an issue. Nor would choosing between fun things, and adult things. In a perfect world I wouldn’t have to sacrifice one thing for another, or give up on things altogether. But alas, we don’t live in a perfect world, and being a responsible adult is about the only thing I am able to do, even when I hate it.

Disheartened

Lately it seems like every time I try to get ahead, this adult life just keeps dragging me back. I’m living week to week, barely scraping though and hoarding every cent. I pay one bill, three more arrive in my email. I can’t even contribute to the everyday living costs at home yet, because I’m just not earning enough right now. The drama lies in breaking my lease. See, I’m paying rent on a house I don’t even live in anymore, and despite the rental demand, apparently the real estate agent and/or landlord ‘haven’t found a suitable tenant’. The house, mind you, has been on the market for five weeks. Five. Fucking. Weeks.

I’ve been travelling two hours each way to this house I used to call my home, scrambling to get everything done before I had to hand the keys back. I cleaned the entire house three weeks back, and moved everything out into a storage shed two weeks ago. The yard is the final thing, and I went back last week to try and finish it. I didn’t finish it, and have no more time. So now, I have to pay for a gardener to come in and complete it. Which is another cost to add to the every growing list. And still, they haven’t found someone to take over the lease. They’ve had inspections aplenty, because they email me and text me every time they do. So I find it very difficult to believe that they haven’t found someone suitable in over a month. Personally, I think they’re just biding their time because they know legally I have to keep paying rent until someone else moves in. So I expect to be paying rent on this house until well into next year.

It seems every time I move away from my home town, things go spectacularly wrong. Things were bad when I lived in the city, things turned sour when I moved to this new town. I just keep coming back to my home town, time and time again. Part of me wonders if I’m being drawn back for a reason, and another part of me is screaming that I am in charge of my own…fate, if you will. Whatever the reason, I think it’s gonna be a while before I’m brave enough to move away again.

The truth is, I’m just feeling really disheartened lately. For a myriad of reasons, not least being that I feel like I’m being a burden to my dad, who I’ve moved back in with, and the fact that I just can’t seem to catch up. I need a break in my bad luck. I’m not even talking winning the lottery, I’d just like to be able to get some sleep instead of lying awake because I’m so anxious. Or for the real estate to email me today and say they’ve found a tenant. Or, let’s be real, winning the lottery would be kind of awesome.

Weeds and Woes

Ugh.

I’m awake. Which would be fine at a reasonable hour, but it’s 2:45am, and I’ve already been awake a while at this point. Why am I awake, you ask? Well, for two reasons; gardening, and finances.

Moving house is a time consuming and expensive process. It is even more expensive when you’re breaking a lease. As some of you may know, I moved six months ago to a new town for a job. Things were looking up; I had money saved, I made new friends, I was finally out on my own again. Then it all pretty much went south. I no longer have that job, but for a while I was managing fine. Until five months passed, and still no one would employ me full time. Which brings me to November.

Finally, I had to concede. I emailed the real estate to inform them that I regrettably have to break my lease. I said it was due to a ‘change in circumstances’, which is a polite way of saying I am broke. I’ve hired a storage shed for my stuff (cost) and started to move it over. The constant back and forth travel between the two towns requires having to refuel my car weekly (cost). I had to pay an advertising fee (cost), and will have to pay an additional cost of one week’s rent, plus what the real estate called a pro rata fee (whatever that is) that can only be calculated once the new tenant moves in. Then there’s going to be the truck hire to move, and fuelling it up on return (cost, cost). So with all of this piling up, plus my usual expenses (car repayment, bills, food etc), you can understand why I’m awake at an ungodly hour.

And then comes the second part of the equation; gardening. I’m not an outdoorsy person. I don’t have a passion for gardening, and in the three houses I’ve rented away from home, I’ve pretty much never set foot in any of the respective backyards. But this time that’s coming back to bite me. As normal when you leave a rental property, you are required to leave it in much the same state as when you moved in. This includes the gardens. When I moved into this house, I mowed lawns for the first time in my life. That part, not so much the problem. But the garden beds (or weed beds, is perhaps more accurate) are a whole different beast altogether.

Annoyingly, my temporary town has the right combo of sunshine and rain. The result, of course, is a wild, knee high jungle of various grasses, and weeds, and little stabby plants that leave barbs stuck in my fingers, despite wearing gloves. Every week since giving my notice, I’ve been pulling up weeds and trying to make the place more presentable, but that shit is hard. Especially when I’m going up against Mother Nature herself! I’ve made progress over the last week, and whilst it certainly looks better than it did, the yards still look untidy. My mum is coming to stay next weekend so she can help, but I’m still stressed about it, partly because people are starting to inspect the property next week and the pressure is on.

Above image is the property of Leigh Rubin

I’m sure this all sounds very boring to you and frankly, it does to me too. But since I’m awake and all, I figured I’d vent it out anyway. *sigh*. Financial woes, and weeds. This is what my life has come to. And I gotta say, if this is what being an adult is all about, I quit!

New House, and Good Things

I have moved into a new house, in a new town, entirely on my own. I’ve been looking forward to this since shortly after I moved out of my last solo house, which was almost two years ago. And now, to my absolute joy, I am once again living alone.

As you are probably aware, I am not the most people friendly person in the world. My experiences living with others have only reiterated to me how much I do enjoy being alone, and having my own space. I like not having to put pants on to walk from one room to another. I like being able to watch whatever I want, and take up all the space on my (admittedly tiny) couch. I like practising guitar, or playing video games at 2am without an angry face popping out of a bedroom door to tell me to go to bed. In fact, there’s not much that I don’t love about living alone, if I’m being honest.

The move was relatively painless, and we got all my stuff into the new place fairly quickly. Though the front two rooms are in various states of disarray, I plan to organise it all this weekend and, assuming I can find the missing screws for my sewing table, hopefully set up a sewing space. Which makes me so happy, because it’s been so long since I last had a dedicated space to create. And the space, sweet baby Satan, the space. There’s so much of it! My first house was a tiny little cottage that suited me just fine, but this place is huge! In fact, it’s probably more space than I need, but I am certain that this house was meant to be for me.

See, when I was applying for houses, the place I’ve moved into is one of only two properties I was actually able to inspect. The other was way too small, so I didn’t bother applying. I applied for plenty of other places, but every single one of them was leased before I even had a chance to inspect. Now, you could argue that the reason I was approved for this place is because it was the only one I got to properly apply for, but I believe the other inspections were cancelled because this was the house I was meant to move into. The universe is funny that way, and when she sets her mind on something, it’s best to just let it happen.

Now of course, the first thing I did on my first night in this giant place, was cleanse it. Sage smudging is an important part of my moving house ritual; call me New Age-y, but if you don’t expel negative energies from your house, you’re setting yourself up for trouble. For me, I like the clean slate and it helps to make the house mine, and remove any lingering energy from the previous tenants.

I’m excited to see what this new adventure has in store for me. I passed my final assessment at work on Thursday, so I am now officially qualified at my job, and I get a pay rise to boot! For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m on the right track, and that’s a really great feeling.

Random Life Update

I signed a rental lease yesterday, and today began the preparations for the pending move, which is in about three weeks. I sent off my first rent payment, and the bond. I am arranging to have my storage shed lease cancelled, I organised to have the electricity set up at the new house effective from my move in date, and now the only other things I need to do are make sure the gas gets connected, and cancel my gym membership…which has gone unused for at least the last two months. So, all in all, today I have been a real adult.

My new job is still going really well. I feel a little overwhelmed, and there have been more than a few times in the last two weeks where I feel like I’m not absorbing the information as fast or as well as I should be. It’s quite a complicated job, but I am hoping that I can keep barrelling on and do my best to stay ahead of the curve. Or at the very least, on par. However all those things aside, I’m really glad that I took the chance on the application and that I have come this far in the process. What makes the job even better are the people in my training group.

I’ve said before that I am not particularly good at making new friends. For a myriad of reasons, new friends and I don’t usually seem to stick. My work family are just a really rad bunch of people. There is a lot of laughter in that little training room, a lot of support, and daily shares of puppy photos. We have all fallen into a comfortable friendship in the last couple of weeks, and I feel really lucky to be in that group.

I’m in a very positive mindset at the moment, and I’m excited for the new changes and possibilities coming my way. It makes a nice change, that’s for damn sure! I’m going to leave you with a photo of the view I get to see every night on my drive home. It amazes me every time, just how far the distance stretches, and it makes me realise just how very small we really are.

Mt. Franklin view 4/4/18

House DreamsĀ 

Recently I’ve become obsessed with the notion of owning a home. I’ve started walking again lately, in a twofold attempt to both return to a semi fit state of being, and to hopefully ease the back pain that is now into the third week. On these walks I’ve been paying attention to the houses I pass, and some of them are so tidy and quaint and cute and lovely that I can’t help but fantasise about one day owning one. 

It is at times like this that Pinterest is in equal measures an excellent tool for inspiration, and a blazing reminder of everything I do not (yet) have. I have been scouring the site for the last hour, pinning everything that catches my eye…and where my “home” board is concerned, that’s a lot of pins. I do not need a giant house, and rather have been more drawn to smaller, more unique structures than larger and more modern designs. I am a fan of Tudor cottages, of stone structures with a red doors (Rolling Stones, anyone?), of quaint little places with wide verandas shaded by large trees. Basically, anything small, unique and potentially fairytale-like, and I’m all over it like glitter on a gay pride parade.

My desire to own a house has come in large part from the realisation that, at nearly 25, I am not only back living at home, but without any real savings. At the moment what savings I do have is going towards a trip to the U.S next year, but after that? Put it this way, I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend the rest of my life paying someone else’s mortgage. I want a house of my own because I want to be able to hang art on the walls without fear of losing a bond. I want to be able to own a dog without repercussion from a landlord. I want to be able to set up a sewing room with all the bits and bobs to make it easy and accessible and a complete creative space. 

I have decided that now is the time to start being a proper adult…about certain things, in any case. So I guess, amidst all the repayments I’m making, the tax deductions, the fees I’m paying, the money I’m trying to save and the general cost of living, I’m going to try and set some money aside for the “future house fund”. And since its gonna take me a million years to do it on my wage, I guess I have a lot of time to scour Pinterest and perfect the idea of what I want. Red door and giant veranda, here I come!