Saturday, 31/08/2013 22:41
This summer felt like it was passing by slowly, with every day in that house with my family filled with unease and anger. Lots of anger. For reasons I cannot get into I was so very angry. I have not been in a very good place these past few weeks, tense and over emotional. This blog was forgotten about, I was too ‘busy’ trying to distract myself from my feelings by doing nothing at all. I was unhappy. Even when my aunt was here, my dads friend… it all just passed me by. Before I knew it, it was the 30th of August, September was looming imminently and I was packing up once more, moving once more. I was keen to get away from my family, from that house, but also nervous. Packing was annoying, the fact that moving marked the start of the no doubt quick count down to university starting, made me anxious. But no matter what I wanted, how much I wanted to avoid doing anything, I had no choice but to start up again.
I moved into my new house just yesterday. My new one bedroom house that I would be living in by myself. It’s right on the edge of suburbia, and I admit I fell in love with the peaceful area more than the house itself- but it was an interesting sort of place, a bit old, but spacious and with everything I needed.
My father and I set off in the early afternoon on Friday, with a car that was strangely more empty than it had been when we drove down to this city for my first year of university. Google map lady sent us on a little wild goose chase but we did finally land up at the estate agents, about 15 minutes late. Paperwork was signed, fees were paid and then I had the keys to my new place.
We arrived at the house in the late afternoon. I opened the front door for the first time and any excitement I felt was cut in half at the state the house was in. The walls were scuffed and stained, the carpets were stained and filthy, there was stinking washing in the washing machine, dishes and sponges in the sink, half eaten food in the fridge, rubbish piled in kitchen cabinets and drawers. Upstairs was a little better- the bedroom carpet was filthy, but not as marked with questionable stains. The cupboard door was broken, and the cupboard dirty, but no other surprises. The bathroom was a little mouldy, and there were hairs in the bath, a towel hanging at the door. We took the washing and threw it on the line outside. We unloaded the car and had a long look around, taking pictures and thinking about where things would go. Then we headed off to TESCO on a quest for bleach, multi surface cleaner and lots of strong kitchen towel. On return my father and I set about trying to get the place in order. We managed to get the place vacuumed and the kitchen mostly cleaned, then decided to leave the rest for the next day. My father had a pillow and a sleeping bag and would take the living room. I had some bin bags and two fleece blankets to arrange into some kind of bed in the bedroom. I laid down the bin bags, then placed a blanket over, then rolled up the other blanket to form a pillow. Tired and overwhelmed I laid down on the hard floor and tried to sleep, and tried to sleep. I was either uncomfortable and warm, or comfortable and cold. My legs hurt, my neck was bent in a strange way, I was cold. It was very dark and very quiet, and the house kept making strange noises, as houses tend to do, but every one set off my nerves. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but certainly it was in the early hours of the morning.
Around 7.40am I startled awake, feeling as if I’d not slept at all. Feeling stiff and sore and cold. My father was fast asleep. I sat and pondered what to do, as I tried to get feeling other than pain to return to my legs. Eventually I decided to shower, but the shower was broken. Eventually, I cleaned the bath out and ran a bath. It was not nice- I could just picture some of that strangers hair escaping notice.
Today was spent mostly at IKEA – buying all the many, many things that make up a house. It started off fairly restrained- a table, some desks. We had lunch – meatballs, of course. Then we got to the market hall and it all went a bit extravagant. We ended up with a huge trolley full and a flatpack trolley, too. At the checkout I struggled to unload it all, with the couple behind me making snarky remarks to try and get me to go faster (douchebags) Then we had to go stand at the warehouse collection point, an hour passing by excruciatingly slow before my father decided to go question why our things had not come, only to find that our things had already come through but they’d lost the order information for it, so had not called out the order number. Delightful. We got out of there and shoved everything into the car and came back to the house to start to put everything together. With each new piece of furniture the place started to feel less frightening and a tiny bit more like my home. It’s still a bit in disrepair- but its getting closer to being liveable. I am sat at my wonderful new desk- with a little shelf on it, and a study lamp. This will be my study area. to the side of me is the front window, upon the windowsill I have lined up my collection of cacti. I have 6, now. Upstairs the cupboard has been cleaned out and had shelving placed in it, alongside the rails that are already there. I have actually managed to start unpacking into that. My father put up a small desk in my bedroom, at the window that overlooks the fields, if you look far to the right and squint a bit. The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden glow on the place, softens the dirt and questionable stains, and with the shiny new furniture the place almost looks attractive. My father left earlier, to go back home and collect the next and last bunch of stuff. Tomorrow he will come back and we’ll build up the last of the furniture and clean some more no doubt, and hopefully then I’ll finally be able to unpack. I’ll also finally be able to get groceries. Tonight’s dinner was cold chicken, and a bowl of cereal. I spent some time pottering about the kitchen earlier- rearranging my kitchen cupboard contents, just to keep my mind off the fact I am all alone in this strange, new place.
I still do not have a mattress for my bed. I am going to be sleeping on cardboard tonight though, and in a sleeping bag, with a pillow. What luxury, right.
Friday, 06/09/13 00:14
Today I had to wash my hair with a jug and minimal hot water. It was messy and not entirely effective, bearing in mind how long my hair is and that I do not use shampoo. I have now been a week in my new house, trying to settle in despite the glaringly obvious faults with the place.
Last Saturday night I had a sleeping bag, a pillow and some cardboard to make up my bed that night, alongside my fleece blankets. It was nowhere near as comfortable as a bed would be, but a marked improvement over the previous nights arrangement. I woke up early, feeling warm and without pain and set about getting ready in anticipation of my father coming. In the meantime I did some chores, attempted to scrounge some food and ended up sitting, staring out the window, phone clutched in hand as I waited for my father. At around three he bangs at my door impatiently and tells me, immediately upon my opening it, that we are to set of immediately to ASDA as they close in an hour. I was in my home clothes, I was hungry, neither of us even knew where the nearest ASDA was and I was not impressed. Regardless he started to get things out the car as I went to get changed. We left and went to the shops, and in our hurry I miss most of what was on my list. At least we managed to get appliances. I was more than grateful to have gained a kettle, microwave, toaster and other such kitchen necessities. My father built furniture, I tidied and cooked. Eventually we sit for a meal at my brand new dining table, in a house that had certainly begun to feel more like home. More like mine.
I have furniture now (including a bed and mattress, Sunday night I slept very well indeed), appliances, a well stocked fridge and plants brightening up every window (except my kitchen window where my herbs slowly wilt as I am unable to replant them.) I have spent my week being lazy, much in the same way as I was at home I stay indoors and try to avoid the fact that perhaps I am still sad.
I am growing to like this place. My kitchen is perhaps my favourite space. It’s small, but I enjoy pottering about it in the late afternoon, when the sun is pouring through the windows. I set a loaf of bread to rise earlier in the week upon my windowsill such that it could bask in that sun. It rose beautifully and lets not later talk about how I later burnt it as I am unused to my oven. I still don’t have a shower, which is annoying. Really, the house is filled with things that need fixing and that is a major annoyance, but I have been negotiating with my land lord and have high hopes that repairs will be carried out, so that this place can truly fulfil its potential. Its a lovely place really, once it’s fixed it certainly will be, and I do feel blessed to be living alone like this.
My dad remarked to me that I am really starting to stand on my own two feet now and indeed I am certainly becoming very independent. Which I see as a plus and also a minus of growing up. I’ve spent more time on the phone in the last week than I probably have in my whole life- the council, the electricity providers, the water company, the letting agency. For the first time I have bills. I’m beginning to have an understanding of the true cost of living – how you don’t just pay for electricity, but pay a standing charge just for having it, how you don’t just pay for internet, but have to pay line rental too. And there are other things where you suddenly find yourself feeling lost and wishing for someone’s guidance, to hold you accountable. I am trying to understand what is allowed in my recycling bin and when the bin men come and to collect what. I am trying to feed myself properly and not overeat, without anyone around to make me feel shame. I am trying to keep my place clean- to wash my dishes everyday and not let clutter build up. I am trying just to wake up at a reasonable hour every day, even if I don’t have to. I like living alone, I like the quiet and independence but sometimes the quiet gets quite too much (especially at night, where every little noise still makes me a tiny bit nervous) and I wish my dad was here to deal with everything for me. I have emailed my dad nearly every day this week, and I don’t think its because I’m lonely but rather that I’m a little scared, a little nervous and want reassurance that I am doing OK. There is a lot I still have to learn about living independently, still have to get used to.
Saturday, 07/09/13 17.28
I wish I could say that I was OK but that would be a lie. Anger fades, turns to a lingering sadness. The anxiety does not go away. I wish I had the courage to be fully honest with my dad – to ask him to send me some flowers or something, because I want to be comforted. I just want someone to say that its OK, and that everything will be OK, on an even broader scale than mentioned above. I went for a walk yesterday, I thought it would help to spend some times outside these walls, but it did not. No matter how responsible I try to be, how cheerful I try to make myself, I still feel anxious. I start university very, very soon.
Friday, 13/09/13 22.51
Today I had a shower for the first time in two weeks. The contractor came today and it was fairly awkward, but I have a shower now. I could wash my hair properly, and shave. The contractor came just in time too, as my sister comes round over the weekend. I am rather looking forward to that. I think it will help with my general bad mood right now.
And yes, I know this entry is strange – but my internet is limited and for various reasons, comes and goes. I wrote this thing in parts, and decided to leave it as its seperate parts.