Growing up I have never lived in a house long enough to settle in and call my own. My parents separated when I was 6 ish. We left my dads big house and bounced in and out of rentals up until I was in high school. My mom had built a house and for awhile it really felt like home. Warm and cozy, friends and family always over. I loved it. I was settled finally and that was my corner of the world.
Then she sold it. I moved out when I was 18, and lived in a few more houses, but that’s what I thought you did at 18.
Fast forward to me meeting my husband. We buy a house. I enjoyed every second of decorating it, getting it ready for holidays. It was mine. My new little corner of the world. There was chaos on the inside, but it was home. When I left it was very hard. I moved back in with my mother into her new house in a new town. I have been there for four years.
Now with everything going on, I have not been home since December 2, 2016. With all the crap and drama going on I thought it was best I take some space from the source of the problem, from the toxicity. The eye of the hurricane. At first it was okay, but now I am missing my bed. My space, my things, my routine. I cant stand it anymore. I have nothing. No bed of my own, no space of my own. No corner of the world to call my own right now.
That’s all it comes down to, all that i want. Security and assurance. No chaos. My own little safe corner.