So.. I moved out of the Catholic worker house completely. I am back in my apartment living with all my possessions in boxes, hoping that all of it will fit in the two cars that I’ll have to drive back to my hometown in a few weeks after I finish all my doctors’ appointments in this state!!
Moving out of the house was hard. And to be honest, I was really angry with how it went down. I guess I kind of spontaneously stopped living at the house. I’ll admit that it wasn’t logical; it was emotional. Still, after talking to Aaron and Timothy & Grace, I called my housemates and asked to talk about what was up and the fact that things weren’t working out. By the time we actually had a conversation two days later via text, I got a text that said (essentially), We’d love to have you here but since you’re not sleeping here any more, we have other people who want the space asap. You have 24 hours to move all your stuff. It made me mad. I mean, I guess I wasn’t living there any more. But seriously? We can’t talk about anything? It’s all my fault?
So, ummm, in between being very angry and extremely stressed out, I convinced a friend to help me with lifting boxes, and I talked Joseph into driving his van out to move my furniture. It was a stressful 24 hours, and I didn’t think that I’d have everything packed in time. None of those boxes are labeled; or, rather, I should say that they still have the labels from my move into the house and also from whoever used them before (and before that, too, for some of them!) But I didn’t put things back in the same box they came. So if it says “bathroom”, it’s probably either Bibles or dress clothes. Let’s hope I won’t need anything for a few weeks because I do NOT want to unpack and then pack very many boxes!!
I learned a lot of things from living in that house. A lot of things about myself. Some stuff about other people. One lesson I don’t think I’ll forget really easily: if you have a digestive health problem, you probably want to have a semi-private bathroom.* You can share it with other people. It doesn’t have to be a connecting bath. But a bathroom in the kitchen?? Across the entire house?? A nightmare waiting to happen. If people aren’t looking at you weird because “you were just in the bathroom 30 minutes ago”, you’re tripping over all the bikes in the hallway because you’re sleepily making your way to the bathroom in a very dark monster of a house and it’s the second time this night and you thought you had the geography embedded in your head already. You better believe that I’m looking for an apartment with a semi-private bathroom.
I was really, really angry. Especially since all the packing and the stress aggravated the breast inflammation/pain and woke up the costochondritis monster. The last thing I needed. I’ll be paying for it for a very long time. And really upset for not being heard. Do you know what helped? I wrote goodbye cards to every single person that lived in that house. I couldn’t really honestly write “thank you for your hospitality” cards. But I did get to know each of them a little and get to know what they’re each currently struggling with. So I wrote little notes that said I hope that you find peace in ____ and that God brightens the coming months for you. Something to that effect. Everyone got a different card, and I said something a little different to everyone. It gave me the closure I needed without me pretending that the whole experience was just fine and dandy. Because it wasn’t. (Some things like the bathroom situation weren’t exactly their fault. Other things probably were.) But I feel that I found a way to say goodbye and best wishes and to let them know that even though I needed to move out because it was best for me, it didn’t mean that I hated them or wanted them to be miserable. Because I really don’t.
The bottom line is, though, I’m in a better place. I am finished moving (for the moment). I still get to hang out with Timothy & Grace. Plus, I’m currently on a vacation from my real life and visiting a high school friend and her husband. They’ve got an awesome apartment. It’s really quiet. It has a semi-private bathroom that connects to the guest room. They have a piano. And, they live really close to some of my other friends. I’m happy.
Just the news for now from the person whose life never seems to have a dull moment,
** Is this true for people who have permanent colostomies? Maybe there is an upside to that situation. Duncan, can you advise?