Monday, November 5, 2012


     Have you ever noticed how reading someone's blog can be like following the bread crumb trail left through the woods?  You start [here], but then get drawn to [here], which brings you to [here].  Suddenly you read something that can completely change your life.  Instead of climbing into the wicked witch's stove, you find yourself climbing out of it.

     I am back in a house that I walked away from two years ago.  A house that when I left it was filled with almost nine years of memories.  I moved into it the weekend of my 39th birthday in 2001 [yes, Mom, thank you, I was technically starting my 40th year].  When I moved to Texas in September 2010 I didn't think I would ever be back.  The first six months in Texas, I missed my house in Florida quite a bit.  The second six months I had finally settled in, unpacked the memories I had brought with me, and began making new ones.

     The last six months I was in Texas were like being on one of those old wooden roller coasters that rock and creak even when they aren't moving.  The kind that you wonder how they even remain standing, and wish once it starts moving that you could change your mind and get off.  You close your eyes, grab the bar holding you in so tightly your hands cramp, and pray that the end will come quickly.  Most of the memories of that ride have been pushed to the back of my mind, shoved in a closet of other skeletons, in a cabinet marked "Open at your own risk."

     The morning in May that I turned 50 this year [hush, Mom], I pulled into the driveway of that Florida house again.  Defeated.  Depressed.  Discouraged.  Every room still had memories, only now there was a feeling that I'd been violated as well.  Someone had taken ceiling fans and shower heads... things I had spent time and money to buy specifically for the decor in those rooms.  Items that cannot be easily [or at all] replaced.

     I've spent the last six months mentally and emotionally beating myself up for things I remember about this house.  I can pin point the exact month and year in this house [August 2004] when I made a left turn instead of a right turn and changed the direction of my life.  For the past six months, I've been wishing and praying that I could go back in time and change directions.

     This morning when I was reading blogs I stumbled onto a sentence that was my aHa! moment...

"If it’s over let it go and when you wake up it will seem so yesterday…"

     I'm not in a position financially where I can just up and leave.  I haven't been able to find a job yet, I don't have a car, I'm surviving on food stamps and the generosity of angels that walk among us.  But I can emotionally and mentally let this house go again.  I can emotionally and mentally make that right turn and change the direction of my life.
I can... and I am.


  1. Hi Cindi, thanks for linking up. Its lovely to read new words - I think that houses are much more than spaces filled with our worldly possessions they show us where we have been and sadly where things went wrong. Hoping things turn in the right direction for you soon. Dont forget to pop over and read the other posts when you have a moment x

  2. We are all a work in progress when it comes to letting go of those painful pasts. I wish you all the luck in the world.

  3. Letting go is necessary, but no-one said it was easy. Deep breath and move forward with the power of my wishes behind you to give support.

  4. Hey Cindy I can't wait for the day you walk away for good and tell us about it. Well written I hate your house


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