I am finding that I am enjoying the return of "normal" with going back to school. It is nice to have a place to go every day. Plus I get to see people who have been hanging out with since July.
After school is a chance to look for some clothing and get some supplies for the trip on Friday back up to the house. We have a nice dinner at the Cheesecake Factory with a friend. Outside of the conversation, this is the first normal thing we've done since the fire.
We are starting to realize that we have this clean slate and we had many things that were kinda trapping us in our homes in Oakridge. We are starting to realize that those things that were trapping us are well, no longer there. We aren't making any major decisions but there are endless possibilities and that is a nice change. It is a small silver lining that was unexpected. When I was crying my eyes out in the shelter, I didn't realize there might be a silver lining.
I mean, I was crying (and still cry) over my loss and how lost I feel without "my stuff". It was just stuff and it can be replaced I know that, but what about the things that I can't replace? Those who knew me and how I felt about "my stuff" know that I treated "my stuff" like it was a child. I know it seems strange and that it's hard to explain without me sounding like some kind of freak. (ha ha)
When it comes time to leave the Cheesecake Factory....my car won't start. Now some of you know the previous time we evacuated my car got pissy. So, OK, the car got to express that it's pissed it doesn't live in a garage anymore. Thankfully it was an easy fix. But still, cranky cars...not my idea of fun.
We get home from dinner and I lie down and I am overwhlemed with fear. I know that I want to see the remains but I am also afraid of what to expect. I've never seen anything like this up close and personal. What if I didn't see anything I recognized? What if I could recognize almost everything? So many "what if's" and I was overwhelmed and started to cry. Feeling so alone. Yes, I have my parents but that doesn't mean I still don't feel alone. It's that time when it's quiet and the silence and loneliness takes over.
I end up crying myself to sleep and know that all I have to do is get through Friday and I can move on.
After school is a chance to look for some clothing and get some supplies for the trip on Friday back up to the house. We have a nice dinner at the Cheesecake Factory with a friend. Outside of the conversation, this is the first normal thing we've done since the fire.
We are starting to realize that we have this clean slate and we had many things that were kinda trapping us in our homes in Oakridge. We are starting to realize that those things that were trapping us are well, no longer there. We aren't making any major decisions but there are endless possibilities and that is a nice change. It is a small silver lining that was unexpected. When I was crying my eyes out in the shelter, I didn't realize there might be a silver lining.
I mean, I was crying (and still cry) over my loss and how lost I feel without "my stuff". It was just stuff and it can be replaced I know that, but what about the things that I can't replace? Those who knew me and how I felt about "my stuff" know that I treated "my stuff" like it was a child. I know it seems strange and that it's hard to explain without me sounding like some kind of freak. (ha ha)
When it comes time to leave the Cheesecake Factory....my car won't start. Now some of you know the previous time we evacuated my car got pissy. So, OK, the car got to express that it's pissed it doesn't live in a garage anymore. Thankfully it was an easy fix. But still, cranky cars...not my idea of fun.
We get home from dinner and I lie down and I am overwhlemed with fear. I know that I want to see the remains but I am also afraid of what to expect. I've never seen anything like this up close and personal. What if I didn't see anything I recognized? What if I could recognize almost everything? So many "what if's" and I was overwhelmed and started to cry. Feeling so alone. Yes, I have my parents but that doesn't mean I still don't feel alone. It's that time when it's quiet and the silence and loneliness takes over.
I end up crying myself to sleep and know that all I have to do is get through Friday and I can move on.
