thetrickiestnymph-blog

[thetrickiestnymph-blog]

How to feel; When you don’t know how to feel

I’m not depressed, that’s the one thing I know for sure. But my certainty stops there...

My house was my home growing up. I attached feelings to a building, to rooms; for a very good reason. Before I was even a sparkle in my mother’s eye, I have lived in one house. One house has been home. We did not move, we did not holiday. School camps lasted 3 days and otherwise, I lived in this house. 

This house however, is in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing for at least half an hour, there was no walking to the shops. There is one road in and out. It floods, about once every 3 years, and the world no longer exists. Just our little community. I love this... Then I hated it... Then couldn’t decide what I thought; But it was home. 

When I moved away after high school, I left with the knowledge I could come back. I played house with my new boyfried, I ran from my problems and slowly (ever so slowly) learnt how to fix them. But I always came back. Every Christmas, I was home.

And now it is being sold. 30-day settlement, right before Christmas. It has been on the market for months and I’ve been trying to convince my parents to move for years. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t going back there. But now it’s real. Home is no longer home. Not for much longer. And I don’t know how to feel. I’m not sure if it has really sunk in. Friday they viewed it, put in 2 rejected offers, Saturday they haggled and agreed. The contract is simply pending building inspection before the 30-day settlement ensues. It’s Sunday now... My head hurts. 

I wonder if I’m relieved... That house holds so many awful memories. My teenage years were ones which make me shudder. Everytime I’m back, I struggle. Darkness creeps upon me. Memories, reminders, what could have been. I hate spending too long there. I lose my mind. 

But perhaps I’m sad. It’s my family home. This is where I grew up. I know the land like the back of my hand. I could walk through the house with my eyes shut. My parents room which always had the door shut of a night, the green curtains I would haul open on any special days. The setup never changed, just the furniture. I would sneak to my dad’s side, knowing of the trouble I’d get in for waking mum. The back bedroom. It was mine for years until my sister moved in with me. One day, we finally wanted our own rooms back but I was told I could not keep it. I was moved to the front room with the promise of moving back when we were older...I was never moved back. My sister kept it until the day she moved out. We also had sticky stuff on the windows, to stop the sun. I don’t think the sun really hit that badly but my parents seemed to think it did. Until the veranda was built, you could see right down to the paddocks, I loved it. The front bedroom where I spent my worst years. I can’t remember moving in, but I wish I never had. I don’t really want to remember it. The little alcove harbouring the bathroom, toilet and laundry; where I was met by the green tree snake after using the bathroom! The mirror was huge! But it was always dated and in need of repair. I thought that was just how bathrooms were. The decorative rose tiles are etched in my memory forever. The laundry though, it was a source of adventure! If we were called in, there was something to see! Koalas or kangaroos, naughty ponies or funny dogs. Even if it was always a little damp and yuck. The entry with the one green mirror. It seemed like part of the house but now I imagine it being pulled down. The white, wooden door with gold, rusted fittings, I can still remember it being put up. And the wire door, I remember the old brown one which barely seemed to latch. Followed by the white security screens when I was sure they had turned my house into a prison! The big, sprawling lounge with the humongous window. I will miss that the most. It holds bad memories but they are far from my mind. I remember it a place of activity and love. Of country music on a Saturday afternoon and rainforest sounds late at night. It felt so strange when it was dark and quiet. The dining room and kitchen, my secret meeting place with dad. I cannot quite describe what I feel toward it for our relationship was rocky to say the least. The breakfast bench we never got stools for, our ever changing dining table, back into the corner pantry just big enough to hide in and the spotted bench tops with a big window lending views of the yards. Our sprawling back veranda with imperfections in the concrete. I remember it being built to this day. The fires on that back hill and climbing down it ever so carefully. My tree which was knocked down - I’ve hardly climbed a tree since! And the yards, the shed with a red roof and green guttering because mum was too pregnant to argue. That was my haven. I hid and I played, I would never have left. It’s the place I want to remember as my childhood. Finally, the sprawling front yard, never ending but rarely touched. With the long front veranda which would flood in the rains. I remember the green plastic table where we would paint horses and race. When chickens would attack! Eventually we got that driveway which was a ball to play on with our scooters and bikes, launch New Year’s rockets! Saying farewell to the faded, red gate, the swirling white mail box, no one ever missed it. Middle of the road, the big, red house! Down the road, at the top of the hill was my friend’s house, for a few years. I rode their so many times. I changed my life forever there, way too many times. The block next door to us which took forever to be built on. It was like part of our house. The neighbours, both sides, I’ve visited heaps! There were many different owners but the house never changed. The back block,  sprawling paddock! Across the road which was always contraversial. I could go on and on and on because I know that little town better than I know myself. But this is goodbye.

So I don’t know how I feel, I don’t know what to say. I want to run from time but I need all the change I can find! Life hasn’t been kind or easy. I’ve only gotten here by changing everything. Maybe I’m finally ready?

I’m just glad it didn’t come sooner, I don’t think I’d have handled it... Here I am, a changed woman, a strong soul, truly living the way I was born to... And still I’m struggling. Maybe I’m overthinking it... Maybe it’s that simple, it’s just a house. A good house. But a house. My childhood has passed and I’m an adult now. It’s sad but I’m proud. I know for a fact, I’ve never felt more amazing in my life. Maybe it is time to say goodbye? Goodbye to who I was, hello to who I should have been... I’m so proud of me. 

[thetrickiestnymph-blog]

21 and all over it!

I just turned 22 and I'm sure you know what I'm going to say; I thought I had it all figured out... Until I didn't.

I work full-time, I live with my partner of 5 years, I have 2 dogs, I have a gym membership, I go to yoga, I go for coffee with friends; I'm more or less, the girl nextdoor. But I'm not.

The night before my 22nd birthday, just before midnight, I doubled my number. I had sex with a guy, the second guy ever. Now, this sounds bad; I didn't cheat. I'm not really the girl nextdoor. My partner sat beside me, inserted in the man's girlfriend. We are kinky and open. But that's ok. The point is, as I shuddered around this man's member and his hands gripped me harder than I thought possible, my life began to change.

They say everything happens for a reason, everyone you meet has a purpose. Well, in this case, it seems he has a big one. Because, not one month later, I'm a changed woman. The areas I had been working on were suddenly liberated. The things I was sure of have become uncertainties. And worst of all, I'm addicted to him. For the first time ever, I'm loving sex. My body arches and my mind moans when I know I can squeeze in a visit. My spirit sores.

It's like, for years my spirit has been locked up, razor bars, hidden traps, medicated and dulled. I spent almost 3 years repairing it, unlocking it, bringing it back to life! And somehow, this man just broke the bars. And I am alive. I am confident. I am full of life and love! But my partner did not follow...

I met him as a medicated, miserable and uncertain teen. He knew me through my worst and I loved him for all his support. But then I stopped needing support. I didn't want to hide away all weekend. I wanted life! But he was stuck at his computer still. To me, he was stuck in the past. His hobbies hadn't changed, he hadn't grown. He seemed more selfish, angrier. I know I'm not easy to live with, but I seem to compromise on everything. Excuse everything. Let go of everything. Intimacy has been dying, I can't stand his ego. But I never noticed, or believed it, until this man began to ask questions. Questions about exactly my concerns, questions that made my stomach churn. My partner is my best friend, but what is that worth in a relationship? Without touch and without sex...

Now I'd never tell this man any of this. I don't answer or I make up lies. I'm cautious never to show him our relationship. But it's becoming harder in my mind as his care, consideration and desire for me greatly outmatched that of my partner.

So where does this leave me? I'm a fit, flexible, smart but unqualified, hardworking, shy, full of life 22 year old. I don't know if I want to stay with my partner. I don't know where I want to work. I don't know where I want to live. Most of all, I no longer know what I want to do with my life.

I'm confused, I'm unsure but today, inside me, I feel better than I ever have. A burning desire for independence, a strength I've never know, a love and sense of acceptance for myself which I didn't believe I could feel. It could have been him. It could have been yoga. It could have been a simple sexual awakening. But something has changed and I have to figure out how to change with it.