This post isn’t about my everyday life. It isn’t about my amazing kids. It is about my bad mood. If you are looking to be uplifted then I recommend you stop reading right now because this post isn’t a sunshine and daisies post. This post is full of the hurt that I am feeling today.
When Mark and I married I knew we would move a lot. At the time I was OK with that. I never thought, however, that we would move 13 times in 15 years….OK some of that was silliness that could have been avoided. Those first 2 places we lived in right after we got married we were actually house-sitting. In hindsight we should have skipped those first 2 places and just moved into our first apartment, which was instead our third abode. Still, the rest really couldn’t have been avoided. The 13th hasn’t even happened yet, but we are in the process of it. Sadly I think there will have to be one or two more moves after this next one and I am pretty sure one of those will happen within the year. Who knows, maybe I am wrong.
We are moving back to MO but we are in no shape to buy a forever home. This is my dream; a forever home. I desperately want a place where my kids can grow up. A place that gives them a stability they have never really known.
I know we are not unique. Military families have it far worse. That knowledge doesn’t change my bad mod though. I am so angry. I am tired of living out of boxes. I am tired of packing tape and paper to wrap items in and I am sick of bubble wrap. Even my kids do not get as much joy out of the obnoxious popping that they used to and age is not a factor in that. They have popped more bubble wrap than you can imagine.
I am jealous of my friends who own houses and are selling those perfectly fine places so they can simply “upgrade.” Do not get me wrong, they have every right to do this and I really am happy for them most of the time. I totally understand the need for more space, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am jealous of what they have and I don’t. Part of me wants to scream at them and remind them just how d**n lucky they are to even own a house. Of course I won’t do this though because it isn’t their fault I am jealous.
Every night at dinner we say Grace. The kids have taken to praying “…and please help us find our forever home.”
It breaks my heart every.single.time. It tells me that they are feeling the stress of instability. They crave security and we are epicly failing in providing that for them right now. People keep telling us the kids are resilient. Really? Where is your proof because what I am seeing is a bunch of kids who are hurting.
So here I sit in a bad mood. I didn’t unpack much when we moved into this temporary shelter, but I did unpack our homeschool stuff. Today I started to pack it all back up. I will leave out summer workbooks and their math, but everything else is getting packed away. At one point I was packing some reading books and the sudden urge to throw everything against the wall consumed me. I had to walk away. I came back 5 minutes later, slightly calmer, but still angry at the crummy situation we are in.
This is my way to vent. Mark has enough worries so I won’t burden him with this. I really don’t want the kids to see me angry so I will let my keyboard take the brunt of it all instead. It sucks. Being homeless sucks. Being unsure of the future sucks. Moving sucks. Right now, in this moment, it all just sucks. This is where I am right this second.
This is my life unfolding. I have no clue what will happen next but I ask that as we wait for it that you all pray for us. I do not need a big fancy house. I just need a place to hang my hat and a yard for the kids to run freely. A place to call home.