We loaded up the last storage unit yesterday and throughout this whole move, one year kept popping up over and over again: 2019.
That’s when brother in law moved back home with his parents. He lived with us after a near death battle with drugs and alcohol, but COVID gave him an excuse to leave our rigid schedule and lack of access to his favorite poison and move in with two people he could manipulate.
The Christmas decorations were packed away in 2019 and never brought out again.
You never really think about the ripples that drug addiction creates.
When Will and I met, we both had drinking problems. He drank to forget and I joked that I didn’t have a drinking problem, I had a stopping problem once I started. Where I came from alcohol use and abuse was normal. I didn’t realize the extent of his demons until I was already planning to spend my life with him and even though alcohol leaves ripples of its own, we managed to calm our waters when we quit indulging.
When brother in law moved back home, mother in law starting enduring daily tsunamis. According to the research, Alzheimer’s can start 10 to 20 years before a diagnosis, so what we thought was enabling when we lived so far away, was more likely elder abuse and manipulation.
I won’t dwell on the guilt we both feel for not noticing sooner. We both knew how sick brother in law was and quite frankly, we wanted nothing to do with it.
It makes me sad when I find a receipt for a repair done in 2019 or a Christmas box packed that same year. It’s like life just stopped and started revolving around the dying instead of the living.
We unpacked all the Christmas boxes yesterday. Well, brought them back in the house from storage and I will say that while I’m not super excited to be celebrating Christmas in this particular house when I thought we’d be starting a new chapter for all of us by this Christmas, I am excited to bring a little life back into a house that died years ago.
Yesterday was full of forward motion. We got rid of a couch that had been in this house since it was built. Plaid, low to the ground, and dirty with the remnants of addiction. I think maybe it was the couch that made this house feel so heavy. We replaced it with a used love seat and two small rocker/recliners from a neighbor in a fancy community nearby. The way something so seemingly insignificant can elevate the energy of the space is quite mind blowing.
Mother in law loves the new furniture and for the first time since we moved here, I heard her laugh. Not chuckle, like really get “tickled” as the southerners say. She was laughing so hard, I had to come out of her bedroom that I was cleaning to see what the noise was. Now, I’m not saying that it was because that old depressing couch was gone, but I’m not not saying that either.
We still have a lot of work to do as far as getting rid of things that no longer need to be int the house like the box of tax returns from 1974-2001 (yes, that exists), but the downstairs space that used to feel so far removed from where I wanted to spend any time is now warm, welcoming, and enjoying my company.
Now that we know we are staying, we will be hosting Thanksgiving here in this house that was built for enjoying family and friends.
I’m still not jumping for joy that this is our future, but I guess you could say I’m warming up to the idea.
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