Go live with my parents? I’m 27 years old. I can’t live like that. I’ve driven back to my anti-home 3 times in the past 3 months. That’s 13.5 hours one way. I’ve been pretty incapable of making a rational decision. One day I just walked into the airport and bought a one way ticket to Tulsa. Who does that? I’ve been fighting. Looking for a solution. I don’t want to go home, I’ve got to fix this but….
It’s only been a month. I forgot how much my parents love me. They know I’m miserable. They would let me stay here for as long as I want but they know I want out. They don’t talk to me much. They just leave me to myself. When I want to talk I know they are upstairs, but most of the time I don’t. I’ve talked about it enough. My dad’s been through this. He can relate….
We’ve bought a trailer. My parents bought a single-wide trailer, and it’s for me. I’m constantly reminded of how much my parents love me. It needs some work, but it’s going to be home and I’m looking forward to it. Every free moment I spend working on it. Pulling out the flooring. Laying down vinyl. I don’t think about her too much now. All I can think about are these renovations. It’s looking real good. I’ve got electricity, a lawn, a fire pit, and plenty of land. It’s so refreshing to have a place to call my own.
The house feels empty sometimes but everyday get’s a little bit better. Maybe I’m just getting used to it, but the loneliness seems to be wearing off. I don’t have to force a smile anymore. This community is pulling me in to it. Embracing me if you will. I’m coaching soccer now. I continue to meet new friends. I would have never thought I’d love it here….
“Remember this day in which you went out from Egypt, from the house of slavery; for by a powerful hand the LORD brought you out from this place.” ~Exodus 13:3
It’s been two years. A lot can happen in two years. I’m no longer a slave to my circumstance. I’m free. I’m healed. You know, there is a process to pain. Initially the pain is sharp and obvious. As you begin to heal the pain is constantly reminding you that something is wrong. Slowly it begins to dull until a scar has formed and you have healed. The scar is just the reminder of where you’ve been.