If Home is Where the Heart is Then We're All Just Fucked
I wrote this earlier this evening.
As I write this, I'm sitting in the car next to my mom. I don't usually use my laptop in the car because the battery on my computer dies pretty fast when it isn't plugged in.
But I had a writing bug and I needed to write.
What I am going to ultimately write about I don't often speak about.
You may know I live in the city. Well sort of. It's not a big city but it's my home. It wasn't always my home however.
I was born in Lynchburg VA but was raised about an hour or so out in the country. You wouldn't really know it now. My mom recently remarked about me 'when they took the girl out of the country they got the country the hell out of the girl.'
And it's true. I love the City. I want to live in a big city when I get the fuck out of Virginia.
New York, Chicago, LA, or London. I prefer London or Chicago.
In 2005, the year started out pretty normal. I had just turned twelve. It was just me and my mom at this point. Kevin had gone to dad's house that September and kind of just stayed up there.
I don't feel like going totally into detail, but March 16th of that year we stayed up in Lynchburg with mom's friend.
The next morning mom was angry at her friend because he wouldn't give her money or something. I still didn't know the full extent of our problems.
When we arrived back at our home that day, a man was there.
Over the next several hours, I watched helplessly as we were evicted from our home. The bank messed up bad and claimed we never made our mortgage payments. Despite our documentation that we had. They sold our home and I lost my home. The home I grew up in.
It was the roughest four days of my life.
They didn't even give us notice to get our things out. He brought people and they spent one day emptying the downstairs and throwing our stuff out into the snow.
The second day they threw all of our upstairs/attic things out.
We had a big two story home with a full attic. Lived there since 1986 or so? Something like that (before I came around). So needless to say we had a lot of stuff in our house.
I cried so much those few days. Because I didn't understand completely and all I knew was this was my home and these people needed to get out!
After our things were out of the house it took a few days to pack everything up properly and get it put in storage sheds. 2005 was a long hard year.
I even had an emotional break down the first time I returned to my Co-Op group after that. I hadn't been in awhile and for art we had to paint something special to us. I painted my home and wound up losing it completely.
We lived in a trailer that summer while mom looked for a home in Lynchburg for us.
I think for awhile I was mad at mom. I was mad at a lot of people. Nobody understood either.
I've gotten older and mature...and I love Lynchburg. I really do. But Red House will always be my home.
I know my life has changed for the better. Because I would be so absolutely different if I still lived in Red House. I wouldn't have discovered Doctor Who or any of the bands I now listen to. Doctor Who led me to Suki who led me into all of these bands.
We didn't have cable at our home so more than likely I never would have started watching it or anything. I wouldn't change anything. I've gotten friends that I can't imagine life without. People who have changed me and shaped me in good ways and bad.
But for the most part my life has taken the course it needs to so I can be happy in the long run.
It's still painful when I think of my home though and for the longest time I've been wondering what happened to my home? Is someone else living there? Is some other kids making it their home? Or has it all gone to shit?
Now that it looks like I'm going to see it (when I'd much rather be home getting ready to see my Cobra's on the People's Choice Awards) I'm not sure if I'm ready.
My mother is being cynical as all hell.
I had said when I got my license I'd drive out here myself...just to see my home. Because at least if I cried I could do it in privacy.
Like I said it was always a really painful thing for me to deal with and sometimes it still is. I think I cried last March on the anniversary because my mother had felt the need to remind me.
So I don't know how I'm going to handle this. We shall see however.
I think I've whined about my shitty past enough now.
Also odd how my brother just left for Afghanistan last night and most of my best memories of us together were at this house.
Played in the field (we had a lot of land), hide and go seek in the dark, the semi fort in some trees, the pets we had. As Sookie said in episode six of True Blood season one, 'I have far more good memories of this place than bad.'
Maybe not the same context but it makes sense to me.
ETA
We drove by the house and it was lit up. Like it should always have been for Christmas. It was difficult to see though.
As I write this, I'm sitting in the car next to my mom. I don't usually use my laptop in the car because the battery on my computer dies pretty fast when it isn't plugged in.
But I had a writing bug and I needed to write.
What I am going to ultimately write about I don't often speak about.
You may know I live in the city. Well sort of. It's not a big city but it's my home. It wasn't always my home however.
I was born in Lynchburg VA but was raised about an hour or so out in the country. You wouldn't really know it now. My mom recently remarked about me 'when they took the girl out of the country they got the country the hell out of the girl.'
And it's true. I love the City. I want to live in a big city when I get the fuck out of Virginia.
New York, Chicago, LA, or London. I prefer London or Chicago.
In 2005, the year started out pretty normal. I had just turned twelve. It was just me and my mom at this point. Kevin had gone to dad's house that September and kind of just stayed up there.
I don't feel like going totally into detail, but March 16th of that year we stayed up in Lynchburg with mom's friend.
The next morning mom was angry at her friend because he wouldn't give her money or something. I still didn't know the full extent of our problems.
When we arrived back at our home that day, a man was there.
Over the next several hours, I watched helplessly as we were evicted from our home. The bank messed up bad and claimed we never made our mortgage payments. Despite our documentation that we had. They sold our home and I lost my home. The home I grew up in.
It was the roughest four days of my life.
They didn't even give us notice to get our things out. He brought people and they spent one day emptying the downstairs and throwing our stuff out into the snow.
The second day they threw all of our upstairs/attic things out.
We had a big two story home with a full attic. Lived there since 1986 or so? Something like that (before I came around). So needless to say we had a lot of stuff in our house.
I cried so much those few days. Because I didn't understand completely and all I knew was this was my home and these people needed to get out!
After our things were out of the house it took a few days to pack everything up properly and get it put in storage sheds. 2005 was a long hard year.
I even had an emotional break down the first time I returned to my Co-Op group after that. I hadn't been in awhile and for art we had to paint something special to us. I painted my home and wound up losing it completely.
We lived in a trailer that summer while mom looked for a home in Lynchburg for us.
I think for awhile I was mad at mom. I was mad at a lot of people. Nobody understood either.
I've gotten older and mature...and I love Lynchburg. I really do. But Red House will always be my home.
I know my life has changed for the better. Because I would be so absolutely different if I still lived in Red House. I wouldn't have discovered Doctor Who or any of the bands I now listen to. Doctor Who led me to Suki who led me into all of these bands.
We didn't have cable at our home so more than likely I never would have started watching it or anything. I wouldn't change anything. I've gotten friends that I can't imagine life without. People who have changed me and shaped me in good ways and bad.
But for the most part my life has taken the course it needs to so I can be happy in the long run.
It's still painful when I think of my home though and for the longest time I've been wondering what happened to my home? Is someone else living there? Is some other kids making it their home? Or has it all gone to shit?
Now that it looks like I'm going to see it (when I'd much rather be home getting ready to see my Cobra's on the People's Choice Awards) I'm not sure if I'm ready.
My mother is being cynical as all hell.
I had said when I got my license I'd drive out here myself...just to see my home. Because at least if I cried I could do it in privacy.
Like I said it was always a really painful thing for me to deal with and sometimes it still is. I think I cried last March on the anniversary because my mother had felt the need to remind me.
So I don't know how I'm going to handle this. We shall see however.
I think I've whined about my shitty past enough now.
Also odd how my brother just left for Afghanistan last night and most of my best memories of us together were at this house.
Played in the field (we had a lot of land), hide and go seek in the dark, the semi fort in some trees, the pets we had. As Sookie said in episode six of True Blood season one, 'I have far more good memories of this place than bad.'
Maybe not the same context but it makes sense to me.
ETA
We drove by the house and it was lit up. Like it should always have been for Christmas. It was difficult to see though.