Home Sweet Home?

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Dear Readers,

when you open the door of your home and welcome people in and say, ” make yourself at home” are you being truthful or saying this out courtesy. The late two years I’ve moved four times living  in other people’s home. I live in New York City and the rents are out of control.  Most people are forced into a roommate situation.  Since the age of 30 I have lived in my own space with a small dog, or a cat and I once had a bird. I am 55 and often feel humiliated about my situation.

Each roommate situation it is suggested that I ” make myself at home” before I go on it is noteworthy to say that I am quiet, very neat I like every in it place. I burn scented candles, keep a dust free home and never walk inside with my shoes on. I think of home as a safe, clean, peaceful and happy environment to relax, rejuvenate and mentally and emotionally reset to cope with the struggles of the” Grind”.

Now, back to ” make yourself at home” in each place I have resided there wasn’t the feeling of home due to the consistent reminders that I wasn’t at home. People have a tendency to drop hints or suggestions about how things are done in ” their home”. For example, I have an unusual schedule meaning, I don’t have a Monday to Friday 9 to 5. I often leave home early and return late. When I enter I do so quietly, and on my days off I enjoy sleeping late because I don’t often experience the luxury of staying in bed. I am often asked questions like, what time did I get in? Or hear statements like, oh your home today. When I cook I like to do so alone with music and a glass of wine. Lately, I have had company in the kitchen watching what I do and questioned why I do what I do the way I do it. As a result I spend less time in the kitchen. I bite my lip, smile and practice patience because I am at the mercy of the homeowner. I am often angry and question why do people willingly invite others into their homes, collect rent then proceed to be a dictator by creating an uncomfortable environment.

To my readers, people become displaced from their homes for various reasons. In my case my last landlord sold the house I was living in and

didn’t grant me time to find another place. So, my journey has taken me two years and four different roommates. Gone is the feeling of ” Home sweet Home”. I long to feel stable and at peace. I missed curling up on my sofa and binge watching NCIS, while eating popcorn and drinking wine. I want the privacy of my own bathroom and kitchen. I miss having a pet, burning candles, listening to jazz and just doing as I damn well please.

I am keeping my fingers crossed I’ve been promised a one bedroom apartment that I can afford by the New Year 2020. What a glorious way to start the year in my own space. As you read this here is something to ponder, think about a time in your life when circumstances changed, think about the discomfort, the feeling of humiliation and the disbelief that life has dealt you a curveball that you weren’t ready for. Think about how you wanted to be treated versus how you were treated. In all of my living situations I was a means to an end. I do take comfort that my current situation gives me the peace of mind and space to reboot. My room has become my sanctuary, its larger, bright and allows me to be comfortable until I can unpack and hang my ” Home Sweet Home” sign.💖

2017 Year in review

Dear readers,

I confess, guilty as charged, I am happy to say farewell to 2017; a year of tremendous physical, mental, spiritual, and financial struggles. In the process of reading, this please resists the urge to play the world smallest violin. This is not the ranting of a person who considers themselves a victim of life’s discomforts. I am in need of answers as to why since I decided to transform myself from a an unskilled, under paid healthcare worker, to earning a Master’s in Education, self-publishing two novels and while on this journey of reinventing myself, I’ve experienced very few highs and an enormous amount of lows.

Recently, I was displaced from my home of six years due to a Grinch of a property owner, who did not give me enough notice to locate a decent and affordable apartment. The word roommate has always terrified me, but almost being homeless has taught me that, what we fear, we may one day have to face. Currently, I have two roommates. A year and I am still trying to cope with the anger of having to abruptly dismantle my beautiful one bedroom apartment; and downsize to a large room. Therefore, I ate, ate, ate stuffing myself with sweets, bags of delicious greasy potato chips, pretzels, breads, and fried foods; anything to ease the pain and soften my bitterness. I have eaten my way into twenty extra pounds that I am charged with loosing or face developing some unwanted health issues that will complicate my life further.

Oh, it gets better.

After a long absence from the drama of dating, I met two middle-aged men (57-60) I felt at least one would be a good match. Wrong! Both were losers looking to relive the glory days of their youth. They want young, sexy, and perky girls. What a joke, who are they kidding, these old saggy men who private parts have more mileage than a grey hound bus.

Breath this is too much …….

Between moment of insanity and reality I stopped to think about my 22-year-old handsome nephew, newly college graduate, on October 4, 2017 he decided he no longer wanted to live. He held a gun to his head and in one clean shot ended his life.

I conclude we live in a society where individualism and greed is the norm; and we, us, and they  have been forgotten. Compassion has been replaced with hatred; and the creed “Am I my brother’s keeper” is now “mind your own business.” Moreover, genuine love can no longer be found in a society that is ruled by materialism and the mentality of Dog eats dog. To his I say,

Good riddance to 2017, Hello 2018 let the games begin.

 

Oh the Horror!

Dear readers,

It started at the age of 30. I secured my freedom on the road to becoming self-sufficient. The delicious thrill of being on my own, living, thinking and having time for me.

Rewind……….

I was married at the age of 24. The first two years was stella. The last four years were like scenes from Dante’s Inferno. At the age of 30 with the help of my family and friends I escaped.

Fast-forward…….

Twenty three years later, four degrees, one self-published novel, three successful seasons singing first Soprano with the New York City Downtown Chorus, and a supporting role in the Christian play “Oh Lord Why did I get Married?”

Hooray you say job well done.

So, why do I feel like a failure? Years of working three-part time jobs to pay for college and to keep a roof over my head. The end results I haven’t gotten that high paying dream career I worked so diligently to have.

I thought at this stage I would have a better partner to settle into a long-term loving relationship. Another pipe dream lost. The final blow I live in a state (New York City) where the landlord’s greed rules and even though everyone’s money is the color of green, if a person is white and can pay higher rent they are privileged to live in the best neighborhoods.

I am faced with making the choice of sharing an apartment after living in my own space for twenty-three years. I ask myself over and over, How can I co-habitate with a stranger? I am a clean freak, who likes a quite home, a peaceful home is important for me to keep my sanity.

OMG. The fear of seeing someone’s boyfriend coming out of the bathroom in his underwear. Someone eating my food or secretly going through my belongings. The real estate market is such that living on one’s own would require working a tremendous number of hours to cover the rent alone.

Today, I had an appointment at a roommate finders’ agency, the realtor asked me” what am I willing to give up  to acquire a place where I can have all my belongings with me, and to make a fresh start.”

At this present moment, I don’t know how to answer that question.

What say you?

 

 

Is it Just Me?

Dear readers,

My son says, “Embrace the transition,” Well i say, ” excuse me for having a moment of insanity.” It’s been 22 days since I was ousted from my home of six years. I’ve never been without my own SPACE. I’ve relocated from one place to another but always to a place of my own for me, myself and I plus a pet or two. I’ve never had a roommate. The word roommate scares me and sends me into a place in my head that I don’t want to visit. I’ve lived alone for 23 years. It wasn’t easy at first this living alone. I was divorce at the age of 30 after six years of marriage. I made many adjustments like: learning to cook for one, how to sleep on both sides of the bed, to keep the mattress from getting lopsided. Eating alone and coming home to an empty house was the most difficult part of being alone. The bed is colder in the winter without the warm of that extra body. Over the years I had my own version of roommates’ dog, cats, three parakeets, a turtle named Franklin and a fish called bear.

I buried myself in establishing a career as an educator, developed my skills as a writer, playwright, and singer. Mother of one fabulous son and grandmother of three, at the age of 53, I can’t call myself homeless, but it feels like I am. A friend and her 24 years old fresh out of Boston College son took me in. So, what all the fuss? I have a good roof over my head, my own room with AC, close to the bathroom, and in an area of the house that is quiet.  It’s only the three us, we have different schedules very much like ships passing in the night. It took me 10 days to unpack and to personalize the space I now live in. I can’t say home, I either say the space I sleep in or the place I live for now.

I feel like a caged bird. I miss lying across my sofa and channel surfing. I miss my weekend Saturday breakfast tray in bed and the afternoon nap. Or coming home siting in my favorite, big, black, leather chair and relaxing with a glass of Merlot and listening to Joseph Hayden’s Mass in the Time of War. I feel like I’m tip toeing around. I worry if I made too many trips to the bathroom, or kept the lights on too late blogging, reading and grading papers. As soon as I arrive there I would prefer to go directly to the room I sleep in, but not to seem anti-social I sit in the dining room and chat.

I have spent 23 years of my life living alone. Besides having the occasional boyfriend. I dwelled in my own space alone. My son says that I should embrace learning how to live with other people. He has a point. I just might end up with a roommate, I live in New York City and the rents are $$$$$$$$$$$$. Living with a roommate scares me more than living alone.

Stay tune for more…………………………..