I used to live at 1201 West Toledo Court.
Now I live at 1021 South Karla Avenue.
1201…1021. Same number backwards.
Everything is backwards. Turned around.
I used to live in a 2400 square foot custom built home. High ceilings. Lots of light and floor to ceiling windows. Big closets. Details I selected that made me happy.
Now I live in a 1200 square foot totally not at all custom home. Cookie cutter. Small. Dark. Low ceilings. Okay…a roof over my head. Something to be thankful for. In spite of the feeling that I’m living in a small, dark cave.
1200 x 2 = 2400. Parallels.
I used to have a job that paid over $65,000 annually plus a bonus of up to 20% of my annual base income.
Now I barely make $40k annually. With no opportunity for a bonus. Now is hard. Not much opportunity at all. For much of anything. Even paying basic bills is a challenge.
I used to live in Oklahoma. Where the winters were a little warmer. A little tiny bit warmer. Not as warm as I wanted, but…warmer. And that was appreciated.
Now, I live in Missouri. Where the winters are miserable. And I’m miserable. Miserable in this place where I grew up. This place where I grew up and this place I always hated. What happened that I am back here? What happened?
I used to live in a fairly good sized city. There were opportunities and options. Now, now I live in a small city that offers little opportunity and fewer options.
I used to be able to afford some things. Fun things. At least a few fun things. I could afford a good car. Tires. Dental care. Clothes. Groceries. And I used to be able to help others.
Now, I can barely pay my bills. I can’t afford tires, much less fun things. Or dental care. Or a good car. And I spend too much on groceries, even though I don’t have the money to spend. I can barely afford to pay my basic bills. I’m barely, barely, barely getting by. Barely. Getting. By.
I used to be married. To a man who didn’t love me. A man who never loved me. I hoped he would. Love me. Never did. Never could. Never would. But, oh, how I wanted him to love me. Because I loved him. So much. Until he totally destroyed my heart. Until I became so numb, I couldn’t feel to save my life. Because feeling meant acknowledging I was unloved and unwanted and unappreciated. Until the pain became so unbearable, I shut down.
Now, I’ve been alone, divorced, for 13 years. And there is still no one to love me. Probably never will be. And I’m still numb.
I used to have hope. So much hope.
Now, I have none. No. Hope. None. At best, next to none.
What are my options? Having reached this place in my life. This wretched place. In my life.
What options did the little girl have…the little girl who was being sexually abused by her father?
What options does the grown up version of that little girl, that grown up broken version, what options does she have? Considering she is still broken? Considering she is empty. Considering she is numb and destroyed.
There are too many parallels.
Life keeps turning upside down. Light keeps turning into darkness.
I thought I would be okay by now. But every time I thought I was finally finding some safety and acceptance, the world turned over again. It turned inside out. And it all slid out from under me. Again.
What options do I have now? At this point in life? Do I have any more options than I had when I was a little girl being physically and sexually abused by my father? Do I?
Scary, depressing parallels.
Lots of parallels.
But not many options.