When I started this blog, I didn't want it to have too much of my personal life in it. I wanted it to be fun and happy and crafty all.the.time. I wanted my life to appear so lovely and perfect and I wanted readers to think, 'Oh wow. She has such a fabulous life!' But the truth is, I need this blog to be more. I need to show more of my true colors. And I need some love and support from others.
I'm posting this on Friday, but I've been thinking about this stuff for months, weeks, and days on end. I gave this a catchy little title because even though it's such a trend right now, I've actually always done things like that. And I also want to give myself the option to vent one day a week if I need it. Boy do I need it. You'll see why if you continue reading.
This post might just make you feel better about your own life situation. My own can seem very depressing and hopeless. But there is still hope--just enough to keep me going and keep me from throwing in the towel.
So here's the story.
My husband, Bob, and I moved to San Diego about a year ago, where he's originally from. We had been contemplating the move for months. I asked him tons of questions to make sure we had things set in place--an income, a plan for where to live, and deadlines and goals to work toward. We found out I was pregnant about a week before the move. It was not entirely unexpected, but still a bit of a surprise.
When we got here, the plans all fell apart. His plan for a meager income while schooling fell through. We moved in with his parents. And worst of all, there was no way out.
My mother-in-law is a sweet lady. But she has her own issues to deal with. She's a bit of a hoarder. I am a neat freak. And back then, I was a pregnant neat freak. For the past year I've had my all time worst lows and more depressed days than ever before in my life. And my poor husband felt like such a failure. He still doesn't have more than a semester of college underneath his belt because of all of this. He had to find a job--anything just to make ends meet. So he got a dead-end, full-time job that didn't pay very well and turned out to be a terrible environment to work in.
Meanwhile at my in-laws' house, everything is a mess, disorganized, and dirty. My mother-in-law (bless her heart) has a frustratingly unorthodox way of doing just about everything. I can't ever find anything I need, so I have to ask where it is. And then I can't put anything away because I don't know where it belongs. It's like living in a real life Tetris game. There are boxes and things stacked everywhere. I can't get the broom out of the closet without first moving an ancient highchair, the recycling bin, a laundry basket with paper bags and a cardboard box in it, and a couple of boxes full of junk. That's just one example, but that's what everything is like. I can't make dinner because the counter tops throughout the entire kitchen are completely cluttered with mail, dishes, papers, obsolete appliances that nobody uses, and random junk. And when there happens to be a square foot of counter space, there are always crumbs or dried food on it that has to be wiped off first.
Our stuff has been stored in boxes inside of our covered trailer since we got here a year ago. We have a bedroom, bathroom, half of a living room, and luckily I have a small area in the office for all of my craft stuff. Graham, my now four-month-old son has outgrown the Moses basket he's still sleeping in, but there's no space for a crib or pack-n-play in our room. We'd talked with my mother-in-law about putting Graham in the spare bedroom ever since we cleaned it out and made it actually livable (and we even bought a crib off Craigslist), but shortly after that conversation she piled several boxes of her junk in there and moved a rolling rack of clothes in the middle of the room as if she were claiming her territory without saying a word to us about it.
It constantly feels like her things are of more worth to her than her own family is.
I could go on and on.
And then Bob was laid off at work. No reason was given, they just fired him. And when it happened we had a two-month-old baby.
It seemed like life couldn't get any worse. I considered going to work full time, but the thought broke my heart because I'd miss so much of my son. I hit rock bottom. There were many days that I just didn't get out of bed except for when Graham needed me, because no matter how terrible I felt, that sweet, innocent boy deserved the last little bit of love and attention my steadily-disappearing self had left to give.
I felt worthless, hopeless, unimportant, and useless. I have a disorder that caused me to feel that way for most of my life, but I had finally gone to therapy and overcome most of that before moving here.(That's another story for another day.) It was as if all of my therapy and progress had never happened. I digressed drastically and turned back into that sad girl who had so much inner turmoil and trust issues that it was impossible to have close friends.
I needed something to make sure I still had some talent or skill left inside of me, something to make sure I was still of some value. Even though it's impossible to stay organized in this house, and even though I have next-to-no space to take care of myself, I still remember my mom and my childhood church leaders telling me that I am a child of God, and that alone gives me worth. Though I may not feel like it, I still believe that. So in a matter of two or three days, I set up this blog. I designed everything myself--the background, the header, the pages, the buttons, and of course--the posts. I've also hoped that I could help us earn some money with this, but first and fore-most, this is for me, because I am important and I do deserve something to feel good about.
And then I began to see that there's more to be grateful for and recognize as good in my life.
This blog isn't the only thing I have going for myself. My husband and I are still madly in love with each other. We've got a handsome baby boy. We're a family. We've got the gospel of Jesus Christ in our lives. I am a virtuous, talented woman. Those are the few bits of joy that I have left to cling to right now. And so I do. Those are the things no one can take away from me because they're eternal and can't end--not even if life itself ends.
We'll get out of here sometime relatively soon. We do have a plan, and it's in the works, even though it can't happen any quicker. If nothing else, this whole experience will make me truly appreciate every other place we live for the rest of my life.