Hello, friends. It has been a while. Since my last post, a lot has happened, and most of it has not been that great. This is hard post for me to write but I hope writing it will help, somehow.
It took us four months to move due to so many things happening at once. My anxiety reached a new level and I basically stopped eating and sleeping until my husband and friends strongly encouraged me to seek therapy. I was recovering. The blows have not stopped raining down and I am exhausted but I am eating and sleeping again. We skipped all the major winter holidays.
We are now moved... mostly.
February 28th was to be the last day in our old rental. My mother came up to help me with a few last items and to clean the house. Because it was so breezy that day, it took longer than expected to strap items to our trucks. We decided to just spend one more night in the rental and let the landlord know in the morning.
That night, I was using the carpet cleaner on the living room floor. I paused to refill the water when we heard the sirens faintly going off in town. We went to the basement. Twitter reports from the National Weather Service made me realize we were directly in the path. We retreated to steel beams in the center of the basement.
So much wind. I do not understand the train reference. It just sounded like wind. A lot of wind. Breaking glass. We thought it was hail. After, neighbors came to help us get out of the house and find our purses.
My beautiful, beautiful farmhouse. Gone. We were unhurt. We are alive. Everything was out of the house and in our new one. Our kitties were safely in the new one, too. I cannot explain my grief. I was already having a very hard time leaving this house because I loved it so much. It is gone. I was scared the next renters would be awful and neglect the house, or not appreciate it, or let the beautiful daffodils I coaxed back to life die back again. It is gone forever. I planted a grapevine. A rosebush. Peonies. Hostas. Lilies. Gone, all of them.
This is so so much worse.
My mother's truck was flipped and deemed totaled. Our truck was in the garage which basically exploded. $11,000 of damage which I am grateful to say my insurance will fully cover.
We are alive.
My heart is broken.
I can't look at the stuff in our new house without remembering how well it fit in the old house. The shower curtain matched the beautiful blue tiles in the bathroom. The polished flooring upstairs and the glass knobs on every single door. There isn't a single daffodil planted at our new house, and all the ones at the old place were crushed by the debris.
It was our landlords childhood home. I think the brother is the only one who can fully comprehend my grief. They will not rebuild it. They thanked us for being such good tenants; I knew they were sorry to see us go. We took care of the place, made sure it was clean. Kept the yard and flowers tidy. They joked that they were going to hold back the deposit because we obviously didn't do a good job cleaning.
So many people here lost everything. Houses gone. All their stuff, gone. People lost their lives, their loved ones. Gone, gone, gone. We were lucky. I know we were. But it hurts so much now. I feel selfish for having this much pain when I lost nothing. Nothing!
I just... can't anymore. These past four months have been torture for me. I have to keep smiling and pushing on. This is not what I wanted my next post to be.
It took us four months to move due to so many things happening at once. My anxiety reached a new level and I basically stopped eating and sleeping until my husband and friends strongly encouraged me to seek therapy. I was recovering. The blows have not stopped raining down and I am exhausted but I am eating and sleeping again. We skipped all the major winter holidays.
We are now moved... mostly.
February 28th was to be the last day in our old rental. My mother came up to help me with a few last items and to clean the house. Because it was so breezy that day, it took longer than expected to strap items to our trucks. We decided to just spend one more night in the rental and let the landlord know in the morning.
That night, I was using the carpet cleaner on the living room floor. I paused to refill the water when we heard the sirens faintly going off in town. We went to the basement. Twitter reports from the National Weather Service made me realize we were directly in the path. We retreated to steel beams in the center of the basement.
So much wind. I do not understand the train reference. It just sounded like wind. A lot of wind. Breaking glass. We thought it was hail. After, neighbors came to help us get out of the house and find our purses.
My beautiful, beautiful farmhouse. Gone. We were unhurt. We are alive. Everything was out of the house and in our new one. Our kitties were safely in the new one, too. I cannot explain my grief. I was already having a very hard time leaving this house because I loved it so much. It is gone. I was scared the next renters would be awful and neglect the house, or not appreciate it, or let the beautiful daffodils I coaxed back to life die back again. It is gone forever. I planted a grapevine. A rosebush. Peonies. Hostas. Lilies. Gone, all of them.
This is so so much worse.
My mother's truck was flipped and deemed totaled. Our truck was in the garage which basically exploded. $11,000 of damage which I am grateful to say my insurance will fully cover.
We are alive.
My heart is broken.
I can't look at the stuff in our new house without remembering how well it fit in the old house. The shower curtain matched the beautiful blue tiles in the bathroom. The polished flooring upstairs and the glass knobs on every single door. There isn't a single daffodil planted at our new house, and all the ones at the old place were crushed by the debris.
It was our landlords childhood home. I think the brother is the only one who can fully comprehend my grief. They will not rebuild it. They thanked us for being such good tenants; I knew they were sorry to see us go. We took care of the place, made sure it was clean. Kept the yard and flowers tidy. They joked that they were going to hold back the deposit because we obviously didn't do a good job cleaning.
So many people here lost everything. Houses gone. All their stuff, gone. People lost their lives, their loved ones. Gone, gone, gone. We were lucky. I know we were. But it hurts so much now. I feel selfish for having this much pain when I lost nothing. Nothing!
I just... can't anymore. These past four months have been torture for me. I have to keep smiling and pushing on. This is not what I wanted my next post to be.
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