Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I moved back into my house Thursday. My mother cancelled the BBQ she was planning because I was moving in. This heavily disappointed my brother as it was also his birthday. I started first thing in the morning, and I was done, movers were gone, by 2pm. I don’t understand why she cancelled. Other than her bitterness toward me moving back in? I just don’t understand it. She’s known this day was moving day for over a month. But as she constantly implies in a passive aggressive, snie manner, this has been a horrible week of turmoil for her. And if DBT taught me anything, all that therapy, all that work – I am not going to stress out like I was. She does, she cannot stop, and it will drive you mad. This was largely why I moved out in the first place.

It is now Saturday. I have, little by little, restored my house to my standards. There is a lot more to do but my room looks really good and the remodeling I’ve done in the dining room looks amazing, the light through the new window is so much nicer than the dim wall before. My room and hallway are completely redone and repainted. My restored flooring looks amazing. I am out of room for my books.

They’re stacking up. I have a whole library room and there’s a tall bookshelf in the living room and another bookshelf in my room. I have a bunch more books in my car, ancient ones dating to the early 1900s. I ordered more shelving to drill into the walls for book space.

My cat is unimpressed with the six cats already here. I have seven cats total. She was an only cat, by herself with me in my sweet downtown apartment, and now she has to share again. But it’s not like the cats are ever in competition. Food and water bowls always full, cat boxes always clean. I spoil them.

It has been surreal. A year and a half ago I had a complete mental breakdown and almost attempted suicide and ended up in the VA psych ward. My mother was so awful and so passive aggressive about that and everything that I moved out the day I got out of the hospital. I still took care of her, paid for her…just didn’t live there. But I can’t stay gone any longer. It is too much for her. It is my house. I missed it…but I’ll also miss downtown and being by myself.

I’m still shocked at how much crap I had even after unloading half of it. I have more to take to Goodwill. It feels good to unload though. I prefer minimalism. Until it comes to my book collection, that is. I also have a fair amount of horror movie memorabilia, like Chucky and Tiffany dolls that talk. All my remaining things fit comfortably in my room, and I only had a few items for the kitchen, like my stovetop espresso maker and Nightmare Before Christmas cutting board. There are still a few things in my car. But I am trickling through it. Things I didn’t think I would get rid of, I am after all. I just don’t want the baggage.