Yesterday we packed up more of Brittni's stuff and moved it here to my apartment. My apartment is shitty and won't let me out of my lease despite it clearly stating that I am within full rights to break my lease within my leasing agreement. That's complicated, but its okay. That means that even though we move into our townhouse next month, we'll have this apartment for four months. The upside to that is I am a very organized individual, and because of that, we have collectively decided to designate my apartment as being the moving hub. As boxes are packed and we transition, we will essentially use my apartment to be that meeting point between here and there. It helps them because they have a lot of stuff in a small space, and so they are able to pack and clean up their belongings as they go along. Its easy to clean and organize when you have less mess to deal with.
I look around my apartment, and in a way it makes me feel sad. Sad isn't a good word, because that's not really what I'm feeling. Bittersweet is probably a better word. My apartment represents so much to me, so in a lot of ways I'm excited to move out and leave it behind. I mean... on the surface, its fantastic to start dumping money into my own property as opposed to paying someone else to maintain an apartment that will never be mine. A little deeper though, within these walls, I found success and love, and then lost it again. Dreams were made here. Dream were broken here. Above my fireplace which is now bare, there were dreidals and stars of David to celebrate Ryan and his Jewishness. We had a Jewish Christmas tree last year to celebrate both of us, and we decorated this apartment with snowmen and a menorah. It sounds silly, but it meant a lot. I look at my table and see Ryan sitting with Reign drawing slap stickers. I look at Reign's easel and see him lying on the floor with Ryan carefully tracing Reign's body which made Reign laugh and laugh. The large empty space between my dining room area and my living room area where boxes now sit... I see miles of train tracks that wound in around everything, so intricately built, destroyed by my Godzilla child, and then rebuilt again by Ryan's careful hands and amazingly imaginative mind.
I can't get rid of my furniture, but in a new setting surrounded by people I love who love me back and have done so my whole life for better or for worse makes it feel better. Its kind of like... When you put on different outfits, how they make you feel differently about yourself. I put on a trendy outfit and instantly feel fresh, fun and ready to go mingle. I put on my sweatpants and feel fat, lazy, and ready to order pizza. Well, when everyone comes over and sits on my couch, I don't see those Stars of David anymore.
And then there is John. Is it possible to love someone so deeply, but care about someone else at the same time? I suppose so... When people die, you don't stop loving them. Dumb analogy because Ryan isn't dead. But its like he's dead. And John is pretty incredible. I was talking to my mother the other day and came to the realization that the reason why I am so standoffish with John is because he can't give me my life back. He can't fix this for me. He can't give me what I want back so badly and its not fair to him... But... We can have a new life. We all can have a new life. Brittni, Lionelle, Me, our children, and John. Moving out of this apartment of broken promises will help facilitate that in the sense that he won't be coming into a home that was mine and someone else's once. And Brittni has never had a home really. Not one she could call her own. Granted, our home won't be hers because her name isn't on it for financial reasons, BUT for all intensive purposes, this home will be just as much hers as it is mine. All of ours. Again, on the surface... She is literally moving out of her grandmother's basement into my basement, but that's not how I feel. I feel that she's moving out of her grandmother's basement into her new room in our new house, regardless of whose name is on the deed. I hope that once we all get in together and her stuff is mixed with my stuff- When her couch sits next to mine and we're all sitting watching TV together in a home we share as opposed to at one of our places, that she will feel it too.
Either way, there is no going back now. We're all in this.
And I think I need to take my son's father for child support. He's only seen my son a handful of times, and he hasn't seen him at all in the past year. When I was making great money, I decided against taking my son's father for child support because of an argument we had one night, which again is a story for another day. I think I have to now. I went and bought a few groceries to pack my son's lunch for the rest of the month, and now I have $50 in my bank account with no job prospects despite my best efforts. I think I have to apply for child support and state assistance, but I really don't want to.
I feel bad. Like... really, really bad about that. I feel ashamed.
I used to be on state assistance, but when I started making great money, I wasn't on state assistance anymore. I feel ashamed to admit to even them, which of course they couldn't care less about me personally, but I feel ashamed to have to walk back into that office and admit that I fucked up. I fucked up, and now I need welfare again. In my defense, when I left my job I sincerely thought I had another one, but it didn't pan out at the very last moment. That's what hurts the most currently... admitting I failed. Making a mistake is an understatement. What else is left to do though? I don't have any other options in the meantime. I just really, really don't want to. However, in a sick sort of way, getting back on food stamps will be a relief. Even when I was making $3000 a month, after I pay my rent and my utilities, plus my son's daycare, there really wasn't a whole lot left over for he and I. Now that my family is expanding from a family of two to a family of 7, it's going to take a whole lot more to feed us than what he and I were capable of living on. Of course, they all have jobs, but they also have bills that I don't have, and their jobs do not pay as well. They make together what I made by myself in one month. That being said, They get their food at the dollar store and the food bank, which to me is sad. Everyone should be able to have real, substantial food as opposed to .99 cent frozen burritos. If I get back on welfare, the state will give me $400 a month for food, which is a significant help to us all. |
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