Ever since I moved into my parents' house, I've been trying my best to see the positive side of the situation. They're helping me out in this time of economic hardship, not because I asked, but because I'm the only child of a set of parents that love their daughter more than life...and need her as much as she needs them.
It hasn't been smooth sailing, despite the good intentions from both sides. I'm used to having my own place, doing what I please, when I want to do it. They interpret my lack of going out of my room much, being quiet during dinner and vacant stare as a sign that I may be falling into the depression I had when I was 15-16 yrs old. That wasn't an easy time for any of us, but I am sometimes grateful they didn't ship me off to a looney bin when I became so withdrawn into myself...not really caring if I was alive or dead.
I understand where they are coming from now, they know that I'm older and have been through more things than I had back then. In a sense, I am an adult now and they can't watch what I do 24/7...leaving windows for me to do something stupid. Don't worry, I won't. But their constant company is driving me mad. They have no understanding of what personal space means to me. Something as simple as sitting down on the couch to work on my book becomes a point for terrible arguments. I sit in the living room so I'm not cooped up in my room, but I do this when they are in their room. I want to be alone, and think about what I'm writing without the constant: "What are you writing? Are you chatting? Who're you chatting with?" and their turning the t.v. on loudly and talking to me like I'm not in the middle of something.
So, that being said, today they went out to do an odd job and I have the house all to myself...well and my dog. He's a good lil pup, I adore him. I decided to try baking a recipe a friend of mine Rob had given me for cranberry ricotta cornbread. I had all the ingredients (including fresh! cranberries), I had no distractions and I had Pandora running in the background. I grabbed solitude by the horns and got cooking...or baking so to speak. The kitchen has a window right by the stove, that let's you look out as your mixing the ingredients. That's what *I* used it for anyways. The music kept getting progressively sadder, or maybe it was me.
By the time I put both pans in the oven and washed the dishes, Rosie Thomas' "Farewell" came on the laptop and almost felt my chest split open. I looked at my mom's favorite chair and saw all her bright flower plants in their equeally happy looking pots surrounding it. She brought them inside due to the snow...and now they liven that corner so much, making it look like a neon garden of bright white and hot pink geraniums. It makes it feel homely.
The song kept blaring, the words sadder...the piano echoing. I looked over at the corner of the sofa and saw my dog looking pretty much how I felt. Curled up in a ball, taking up a little corner of that big piece of furniture, looking up at me with no desire to even wag his tail. Just then, I felt the music disappear and the silence fill the house that now seemed too big and barren. Death Cab For Cutie came up next on the playlist...
The world has never seemed bigger and emptier.
And those happy little flowers have never seemed more inappropriate.
It hasn't been smooth sailing, despite the good intentions from both sides. I'm used to having my own place, doing what I please, when I want to do it. They interpret my lack of going out of my room much, being quiet during dinner and vacant stare as a sign that I may be falling into the depression I had when I was 15-16 yrs old. That wasn't an easy time for any of us, but I am sometimes grateful they didn't ship me off to a looney bin when I became so withdrawn into myself...not really caring if I was alive or dead.
I understand where they are coming from now, they know that I'm older and have been through more things than I had back then. In a sense, I am an adult now and they can't watch what I do 24/7...leaving windows for me to do something stupid. Don't worry, I won't. But their constant company is driving me mad. They have no understanding of what personal space means to me. Something as simple as sitting down on the couch to work on my book becomes a point for terrible arguments. I sit in the living room so I'm not cooped up in my room, but I do this when they are in their room. I want to be alone, and think about what I'm writing without the constant: "What are you writing? Are you chatting? Who're you chatting with?" and their turning the t.v. on loudly and talking to me like I'm not in the middle of something.
So, that being said, today they went out to do an odd job and I have the house all to myself...well and my dog. He's a good lil pup, I adore him. I decided to try baking a recipe a friend of mine Rob had given me for cranberry ricotta cornbread. I had all the ingredients (including fresh! cranberries), I had no distractions and I had Pandora running in the background. I grabbed solitude by the horns and got cooking...or baking so to speak. The kitchen has a window right by the stove, that let's you look out as your mixing the ingredients. That's what *I* used it for anyways. The music kept getting progressively sadder, or maybe it was me.
By the time I put both pans in the oven and washed the dishes, Rosie Thomas' "Farewell" came on the laptop and almost felt my chest split open. I looked at my mom's favorite chair and saw all her bright flower plants in their equeally happy looking pots surrounding it. She brought them inside due to the snow...and now they liven that corner so much, making it look like a neon garden of bright white and hot pink geraniums. It makes it feel homely.
The song kept blaring, the words sadder...the piano echoing. I looked over at the corner of the sofa and saw my dog looking pretty much how I felt. Curled up in a ball, taking up a little corner of that big piece of furniture, looking up at me with no desire to even wag his tail. Just then, I felt the music disappear and the silence fill the house that now seemed too big and barren. Death Cab For Cutie came up next on the playlist...
The world has never seemed bigger and emptier.
And those happy little flowers have never seemed more inappropriate.
I never asked you for
A sailboat in the yard
Or that fancy dress to wear
Or a ceiling made of stars
And all I got was just this
Broken heart from you.
- Rosie Thomas "Farewell"
A sailboat in the yard
Or that fancy dress to wear
Or a ceiling made of stars
And all I got was just this
Broken heart from you.
- Rosie Thomas "Farewell"
I know. I love you. <3
ReplyDeleteGoodness girl, we've gotta get you into a less somber playlist!! Maybe punch it up a notch with some foot-stomping Sheryl Crow...
ReplyDeleteHow'd you like the cranberry ricotta cornbread?