Living in exile

One of the downsides of having lots of time is being able to really think about stuff maybe a little too much. It's been over a month since we moved, yet I'm still not totally over the move and what happened. As I said in an earlier post, it will be awhile before I'm really "over it." That's not to say it dominates my life right now, but it's never really far out of my thoughts. I've had frequent dreams we're still at the house packing with limited time or we're back there knowing it isn't our house anymore trying to get things we left there by accident. For people who have never gone through something like this, it is hard to understand why it was basically so traumatic to go through. On top of being thrown out of my own home of 26 years, I am someone who has great attachments to things, especially something that has been a part of me for so long. The fact that something so personal-- not only my house but my little area of the world, my refuge-- was taken from me without my consent makes it even worse. I now have a small idea of what it's like to be exiled.

That's not to say we were truly exiled, but in a way we were. We were forced out and cannot return. Of course we can go drive past it or even knock on the door, but that's it. It's not ours anymore. I have chosen to not even go into our old neighborhood, though I drive past it every once and awhile. The last two times I have driven past the road that goes into our old neighborhood I couldn't help but think about everything. The local Wal-Mart is nearly within viewing distance of our old house, close enough that when it opened in the mid 1990's we could ride our bikes there. So, when I have had to go to that store, I have to drive right past our old neighborhood. I try not to think about it all since I have other things to worry about-- mainly finding a job-- but inevitably I do and it's usually very painful feelings of sadness and anger. I am definitely learning a lot about the concept of forgiveness and it is not at all easy. Not only do I still harbor bad feelings towards the main culprits, GMAC, but also most everyone involved: the real estate agent and most certainly our ex-neighbors who bought the house. True, they were just "doing their job" but so were the Nazi death camp guards. So yeah, I basically all consider them as accomplices, so I really don't have more animosity towards one than the other. In the end, the almighty dollar soundly defeated humanity yet again. I do think not having to deal with them on a personal basis has made it harder to move on. I really don't have such feeling towards my dad even though he arguably played as much a role in this as anyone. The difference is that I still see and talk to dad, so moving on has been much easier. On top of that he actually has expressed remorse for what happened and actually helped us move. The same cannot be said for the other parties involved.

So yeah, this blog is helping me express my feelings about the whole thing and hopefully move on. I've decided the only way I will ever set foot in my old neighborhood again is if I am buying our old house back. Going back now would be far too painful, especially since I haven't moved into my own place yet, so I have nothing to say "well, I'm better off now than when we lived there." I think here I just need some time and some positive experiences to really help me move on and "get over it."