Home is feeling, not a place

Yesterday was not good day for me and Oakley. We have been in Dallas, TX for four days, and Oakley is not adjusting well. He is whining constantly and has so much anxiety from all of the noise. Dallas is definitely not Georgia. He can’t just run out the door here and run around. We have to walk on a leash or play at the dog park. I’ve been so worried about him, and I can’t help but feel guilty because it’s my fault. I haven’t given him stability and normalcy. He is really no different than myself. He just wants a home.

This has kind of been the story of my life. Throughout my childhood I lived in several different states, and went to 8 different schools. My mom moved around. A lot. Anytime she would meet a new man online, it was pack up and go. Maybe that’s why I’m such a gypsy now. I don’t want to be one. I would love to have a home of my own.

Making a home for myself just seems unattainable right now. It’s so hard for me mentally to maintain a full time job. My mental conditions make job tasks seem very overwhelming, and I eventually shut down when I’ve had too much. This is something I feel like I can’t control, so a stable income would be nice, just doesn’t seem to be in my cards.

I’ve applied for SSDI twice. Both time got denied, and currently in the appeals phase being reconsidered. This has caused so many problems in my life. I know problems like these exist with so many people in America, and I wish there were better resources for people like me.

I love being in Dallas with Leah. I’m able to help her around the house, where she doesn’t have a lot of time to do some things, spend time with my nephew Charlie, and build the relationship with Leah we never had. I love that I’m getting to spend this time with my family.

Home is not a place, it’s a feeling. Some people give me this feeling. When I was in high school I met this wonderful girl named Jessica. She felt bad that all of my clothes were in laundry baskets in the trunk of my car, and literally just took me home with her to stay. I met her mom and dad, and they welcomed me with open arms. They treated me exactly as if I was one of their children. When Patti, Jessica’s mom, hugs me, I have never felt more at home. She makes everything just feel better for me. She makes me feel secure and safe. If I could have chosen my parents, I would have chose Patti and Joe. They both just feel like home to me, where my parents never have.

“To mend a heart you didn’t break is part of loving a child you didn’t make”

I know I need to be able to provide that for myself now that I am a 35 years old. It’s just a task that seems impossible. I wonder sometimes if I’ll every be completely home again, because my heart has been scattered, and pieces have been left everywhere. I’m hopeful that one day I will find a home for me and Oakley. He deserves it, and honestly, so do I.


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