We ahve just lost cabin pressure
I moved stuff into storage today. On Wednesday i'll head upstate for some foodie fun and then it's off to LA.
The ato of getting things into storage was hellish. And overly expensive. And near fatal. Yet it's done. I've been saying since I got bak to NYC that I needed to do this. I needed to move my stuff to a place that wouldn't be a burden to my parents. They wouldn't have to move it for me and I wouldn't have to think about it.
So, why, now that it's happened, do I feel like it was a huge mistake? I can't tell if I'm worried about the money, if I'm feeling guilty for showing my parents that I have lost faith in them, or what. I had a bad feeling about this all day yesterday and all day today. Why?
I felt okay for a few hours after I was able to laugh about the comedy of errors. But now as I try to lie down for sleep, I'm riddled with anxiety again. I'm feeling guilty and anxious that I made the worng decision. And I don't know what it is that I think I did wrong. I just feel like it was a ll a mistake.
I think I hate being obliged to anything in NYC. At elast before my stuff was with my parents and not a separate obligation, as far as obligations go. But now I have an obligation to come bak to NYC that isn't a fun one. I mean, really, after the fiasco of today, I don't ever want to move anything in NYC again.
I'm really angry about how this all went down. It was really a clusterfuck. And I'm not sure what bit of closure I need to let it all go. I know I'm anxious that my stuff isn't safe. Maybe that's it. Maybe I just don't think my stuff is safge where it is. I've never used public storage before. It all seemed legit and safe and such. But whham I even worreid about it all? It's just stuff. And I have already admitted that I have too much of it as it is. At least when it was all here it was as safe as anything else. Thye used to say as safe as houses once upon a time. I'm not even sure what that means.
I guess I'm worried about my stuff, stuff though it may be. I'm concerned that it's no beetter off where it is than where it would have been when my parents moved.
SOme of this is the crap I'm carrying about the fact that they are still in statis. They haven't moved. Their deal fell through and now they are hoping the bnk will let this other person buy the house. But really, I just don't feel good about there precarious posisiton in the world.
It's strange. I don't think of this place as home, but it's the home I have known for 27 years. And it's not abou thte house. It's the feeling of security one should feel when one thinks of their parents. I should be able to look at their lives and feel confident. I should think that at least I don'thave to worry about them. As much as we all don't see eye to eye, I still love them and worry about them. And I don't know how I can help as it seems all the decisions I make only bring them pain. I know that it's their choice to respond negatively to my choices. But I still don't relish the notion that I am a source of worry for them. And really, I just worry about what will happen to them. They don't know from day to day what will happen to them. And with my own life so truly unstable I don't know how to respond to all of this anymore. I just want to feel safe. I just want to be safe. I just want... a home.
The ato of getting things into storage was hellish. And overly expensive. And near fatal. Yet it's done. I've been saying since I got bak to NYC that I needed to do this. I needed to move my stuff to a place that wouldn't be a burden to my parents. They wouldn't have to move it for me and I wouldn't have to think about it.
So, why, now that it's happened, do I feel like it was a huge mistake? I can't tell if I'm worried about the money, if I'm feeling guilty for showing my parents that I have lost faith in them, or what. I had a bad feeling about this all day yesterday and all day today. Why?
I felt okay for a few hours after I was able to laugh about the comedy of errors. But now as I try to lie down for sleep, I'm riddled with anxiety again. I'm feeling guilty and anxious that I made the worng decision. And I don't know what it is that I think I did wrong. I just feel like it was a ll a mistake.
I think I hate being obliged to anything in NYC. At elast before my stuff was with my parents and not a separate obligation, as far as obligations go. But now I have an obligation to come bak to NYC that isn't a fun one. I mean, really, after the fiasco of today, I don't ever want to move anything in NYC again.
I'm really angry about how this all went down. It was really a clusterfuck. And I'm not sure what bit of closure I need to let it all go. I know I'm anxious that my stuff isn't safe. Maybe that's it. Maybe I just don't think my stuff is safge where it is. I've never used public storage before. It all seemed legit and safe and such. But whham I even worreid about it all? It's just stuff. And I have already admitted that I have too much of it as it is. At least when it was all here it was as safe as anything else. Thye used to say as safe as houses once upon a time. I'm not even sure what that means.
I guess I'm worried about my stuff, stuff though it may be. I'm concerned that it's no beetter off where it is than where it would have been when my parents moved.
SOme of this is the crap I'm carrying about the fact that they are still in statis. They haven't moved. Their deal fell through and now they are hoping the bnk will let this other person buy the house. But really, I just don't feel good about there precarious posisiton in the world.
It's strange. I don't think of this place as home, but it's the home I have known for 27 years. And it's not abou thte house. It's the feeling of security one should feel when one thinks of their parents. I should be able to look at their lives and feel confident. I should think that at least I don'thave to worry about them. As much as we all don't see eye to eye, I still love them and worry about them. And I don't know how I can help as it seems all the decisions I make only bring them pain. I know that it's their choice to respond negatively to my choices. But I still don't relish the notion that I am a source of worry for them. And really, I just worry about what will happen to them. They don't know from day to day what will happen to them. And with my own life so truly unstable I don't know how to respond to all of this anymore. I just want to feel safe. I just want to be safe. I just want... a home.