Things are going well. I see it’s been eons since I last jotted down an entry here. I think that’s a good thing. Superbad is playing on the television right now. Does this movie ever stop being funny? I’ve already laughed out loud several times and it’s not even twenty minutes in. Pathetic. Or awesome.
Megan and I have been living with my parents in Conroe for the past month or so. Despite it being crowded, cramped, and ofttimes awkward (They still refer to Meg as my friend… my friend who partakes in naked shower time with me), I have never felt more happy and at ease. There is constant hustle and bustle as my parents are homebound the vast majority of the time. My father is a photographer who is easing his way into retirement. And my mom retired from a thirty-something year teaching tenure at the local high school this past May. She substitutes every now and then. But, for the most part they are puttering around the house throughout the day. My sister and her little clan (10 month old niece, Caitlin, brother-in-law Josh and their 10 year old Husky Kayla) just moved in September to a house two streets over. So, we are visited frequently by them as well. It’s wonderfully chaotic!
I forgot how nice it is to be around family. The mistake of taking that built in support system for granted will never happen again. I am beyond fortunate and its only in the past few months that I have recognized this.
In fact, Megan and I moved from College Station to Plano in order to kind of escape the familiarity, routine, and mundanity of the lives we had been forging. It just wasn’t working for she and I. There was really no reason to remain in the College Station area anymore. Nothing held us there but bad memories. We both had tried to die there (unsuccessfully in her case and half heartedly in mine) and it was just time to move. I selected Plano for Megan to be closer to her family and for me to be able to carve out my niche in a new and unexplored terrain.
But, as with most areas of my life–that venture too proved to be an epic failure. Despite being able to find full-time employment options easily and with little work on my behalf– the slow accumulation of funds combined with her parent’s uneasiness with our apparent trespassing on their lifestyle led to an unfortunate confrontation between her father and myself. Well, it was more or less him yelling obscenities and unsubstantiated (not to mention undeserved) mistruths in my direction. I was drunk, yes. I was having a disagreement with Megan (we are both crazy y’know?). But, it was a private issue. And I had been a model house-mate. I had cleaned up after myself (and others). I had lowered the volume on the television when they went to bed. I had recycled. I had taken the trash out. I had cleaned the litter box. I had turned off the AC at night. I had organized their pantry. I had eaten only my food. I was quiet. I was respectful dishing out ‘yes sir, no sirs’ like candy. I did it right.
And the truth is–I treat Megan like the queen that she is. I’m a great girlfriend. Or at least I’ve become one over the past eight months we’ve been together. I started off shitty, but damnit I’ve grown into an incredible person.
Anyways. I will probably not be inviting Mr. Strohecker to the wedding, but I’m not sure he’d be interested in attending anyways 🙂
But, here I’m able to breathe easy. I have my dogs to keep me entertained when I’m down. I have a big screen tv with DVR to record all of my treasured HGTV shows. I have a family to cook for, clean for, and talk to. I have a neighborhood, a yard, a basketball goal, etc. etc. I’m so happy!
The only thing that’s been lacking is employment. I’ve been quite down on myself for that reason. I got a decent job–starting wage of 9.00/hr working for a retail company that’s been around for 25 years and their sister online luxury candle store. It’s a job that I could have learned to be great at. But, my raging insecurities forced me to quit within two days. I had panic attacks, breakdowns, and drinking/cutting sessions because I hated myself so much for it. I needed that money to take care of my girlfriend–to take care of my little family. And I failed. I started thinking about death and how I’m not meant for this world–and part of me still believes that.
I saw a therapist a few days after that. It was a horrible experiment. That crazy old woman treated me like a five year old child who had suffered some severe psychological trauma. I’m not five. I don’t need to do fill in the blank exercises. I need someone to listen to me, identify the issues that plague me, and help me fix them. She wasn’t going to help me. And the next day I got a call from my old employer: Hastings. I worked there for almost three years during college. It’s a safe zone for me. I need to work, get my confidence back, and then try to go back to school and get a real job.
I start working there full-time this week. I’m not nervous, really. I’m going to have to learn a different skill set than what I was accustomed to– music/entertainment instead of movies. But, I’ll learn. I am determined to learn. For me. For Megan. For my pups. For Domo. For my parents. Out of necessity.
I have this master plan of moving into a rent-house. My dream is to take over the lease at the rent-house my parents home in my grandmother’s old neighborhood–it’s around the block from the house my dad grew up in. It’s quaint. It’s old. It’s got character. It has a breezeway connecting the garage to the main structure. It has a fenced in yard. A big picture window looking out into the front yard. Three bedrooms–one that is absolutely perfect for an art room for Meg. Big closets. Brand new wood-styled vinyl floors (durable!), W/D connections, etc. etc. And the rent is only 800 a month (excluding utilities, but still). The money would stay in the family, we’d have privacy and a cute little starter home to renovate to our taste (and increase the value in doing so), all while staying within a mile or two of our family.
So. Paychecks are essential. Megan has been working her ASS off as a custom framer at Hobby Lobby. It’s a perfect job for her. She gets to work with her hands, use tools, and create art! It’s a lot of work, but that girl never once complains about anything except for not seeing me enough. God bless her.
All in all things are going well for me. Finally. FREAKING FINALLY!