This was my heartfelt cry to God in the middle of the night on more than one occasion. The long version of what had happened would require a book instead of a blog. The short version is that six years ago I felt on top of the world. I had (I thought) a reasonably happy marriage, a career that I loved, a house and yard that I enjoyed. Gardening, volksmarching and walking with my Dal were hobbies I pursued passionately, along with watching baseball. Life seemed pretty good.
Four years later the marriage was over, the career and job were both gone due to a disabling back injury, the house and its yard casualties of the divorce and loss of jobs. Gardening and long walks were out of the question. I had the support of close friends, my (by then) two Dalmatians, and my family. Oh, and I also had my "stuff." The half of the stuff that was mine after the divorce. But all that "stuff" was starting to mean less and less.
I was living on the smallest income I've had since leaving home at age 22. I no longer had enough money to live on my own. My mom passed away in 2002, but my dad no longer lived alone--my nephew lived with him. I was beginning to be afraid that I'd be homeless, living in my car with my two dogs. I had no idea where to turn for any help. Prospects looked bleak.
So, in spite of the fact that my nephew already lived with him, my dad invited me to come home, to live in the house where I grew up. Dad was 92 at the time, and needed company. My nephew ended up moving out, and I moved in. Back "home", the place I couldn't wait to leave when I was a teenager; the place I hadn't lived in for over 30 years; the place where now I would wake up in the middle of the night, trying to sleep in the bed that had once belonged to my parents, sobbing and asking God what had happened.
When I moved in, I brought with me a thirty year accumulation of stuff. Dad had over fifty years of stuff, so we even now we are still surrounded by it. On those nights when I'd wake up crying and frightened, I'd think "What good is all this stuff? I don't have anywhere to wear the clothes, nowhere to put the furniture, nowhere to put my kitchen things, nowhere to put anything! Most of it won't bring anything even at a garage sale!"
I was still barely making it then on my disability income, even though I was living with Dad. And, because of my back, I was physically challenged by all the work that needed to be done around his house. Some things neither Dad or I could do. We sometimes had the help of friends with bigger jobs, but I was frustrated by how little I could do.
Things continued to go downhill for me emotionally and financially. I needed to crawl out of the hole I was in. I kept casting around for what to do next. Fascinated all my life by the Lewis and Clark story, I was even more drawn to it after my ex had planned a wonderful trip for us during the L&C bicentennial. We went all the way from St. Louis to Oregon and back; following the Lewis and Clark trail most of the time. (The journal I kept during that trip is another blog.) Somehow that felt like a place to start. I felt pulled to researching and writing, but couldn't narrow anything down to a reasonable size for research. I began to learn everything I could about Native American music, and by a series of "accidental" happenings met two wonderful NA flute players. I began getting flutes, and learning to play. Then I found out that the Discovery Expedition of St. Charles, a living history group, was still accepting members, so I joined and began reenacting. I still play NA flute, and still reenact. These were new directions for me; things I hadn't done while married, things that had no direct connection to my ex. It felt great.
I made a brief attempt working at a job in a financial institution, stuck behind a cube. It was my first venture out of music or education since college, and I neither enjoyed it or caught on to it. At any rate that job was pretty well ended by my 4th back surgery.
So I came to terms with my financial situation and acknowledged that bankruptcy was in my future. But I realized that I had learned to trust God. I have been a Christian for almost thirty years, but trusting is difficult for me. Even if it involves the Lord Almighty. But when I had nothing left except Him, I finally learned to trust Him. Sometimes things look scary even now, but I know who I trust with my life, both now and in eternity.
I began to try and look at the future. I planned on living in Dad's house for the rest of my life, hopefully finding enough income to travel a bit, and living with my dogs. I wanted no part of romance or marriage. The pain of the divorce and it's aftermath were too great to ever risk it again. Besides, the stress of chronic pain, bankruptcy, foreclosure, and not enough income to replace a broken tooth or even buy a Medicare supplement--that was enough. I couldn't imagine having a relationship added to all that.
Dad and I get along well. We watch TV--baseball every night in season--old movies, Letterman. We'd get out to the store, and to Steak n'Shake for dinner. My sister and her family would come over. We were doing okay. I needed to get a bit more of a social life, but it was easier just to stay home anyway.
But things didn't stay that way.
