Back, Finally

Its been a while since I wrote something on WordPress. Its not that I didnt feel like writing, its just that I didnt have the opportunity to. I was working as a live-in nanny of sorts this past month, and when I had the time to think of what I wanted to talk about, I rarely had access to a computer. I barely had enough time to check my email every day. And before that, I was too caught up in the whole moving/packing process to feel anything. But now here I am, down in Houston. I have all the time in the world now… absolutely nothing to do.

Its weird down here. On one side, our house is beautiful and almost like a paradise hotel with the flowers and palm trees and pool and hot tub and what not. I have a very secluded room with my own bathroom and plenty of space to recreate my old bedroom. I should be so happy here- I should feel like I have no worries in the world. At the same time though, Im REALLY secluded. I cant drive, dont have canvases to paint, have no contact with the outside world, and most importantly, dont have my boyfriend around. I have been trying to keep my mind off of how lonely I really feel by keeping myself busy with unpacking and swimming and college stuff.

And thats where the dilemma is…. I dont know whether Im supposed to be busy or calm. Stephen told me I should treat my home like its a vacation. But its my home. Ive been working myself to death to make it feel like home. I could sit out all day by the pool, but then I start thinking about how I should probably arrange my desk or something. I dont know. I keep going between being busy and having nothing to do. I get anxious really easily. I dont talk much, because I know I come off as being paranoid and anal to my family. Ed’s caught on to that… he is having a blast with it.

Thats during the day. At night I just get lonely. Stephen told me about he was out with his friends, laser tagging and playing ping pong and eating at the restaurants we used to go to all the time. Im not jealous or angry with him over it…. I just feel lonely. I wish that I had something else to do. But I cant leave this house. All I have is right in front of me… I have no escape. Im so happy that he has things to do, because I know my leaving was really hard on him. I just wish I could be with him.

I dont think my mom is catching on to how Im feeling, either. Shes made comments about how her main concern is Anna, which I totally understand, since she is the one that is staying here in the long run and has to make friends and be comfortable. And her happiness really is my priority. But… she IS happy. She seems it, then I also accidentally stumbled across a journal entry she typed on my computer which confirms it.

My mom has also mentioned more than once to me on how Edward is a troubled soul right now. I dont know. Yesterday he got really mad at me because I didnt understand his question, and he thought I was being stupid about it. Then today while I was online buying textbooks, I was ignoring him poking me. He left to go into the pool and my mom said that Edward was reaching out to me and I was shutting him down. Apparently I was supposed to respond to his poking. And she tried to make me feel guilty that he was in the pool by himself, like I was supposed to drop everything I was doing to go in with him (I did the night before for a good hour). She thinks that he is so troubled and so lonely, and that I am supposed to be fine. Nobody comes in the pool with me. If I poked him he’d break my fingers.

On another note, Im concerned with my body too. I cant run here, unless I find a YMCA to go to. Even at 7 in the morning, it is unsafe to run because of the heat. I can swim, but thats about it. Edward told me I was fat yesterday when I aggravated him. I know thats just what brothers do, but this was different. This was one of the leaned in close, wide eyed, articulated, below the belt comments: “You are fat, Harriet”. I guess that I could tell from his tone of voice that he meant to really insult me by telling me the unspoken truth. And on top of that, I had the eight year old I babysat for conversationally tell me I was chubby twice. I mean, I never thought I was fat… I run every or every other day, eat well, and stay active… but maybe I am. Maybe Im just used to seeing myself in a mirror. And then, who do I ask for the truth? My mom, who is a size 14? Stephen? No, they wouldnt tell the truth.

Stephen is trying really hard to make me happy. He sends me texts and is making a care package and gave me pictures… and he has listened to me cry on the phone and rant about this place. He really is being there for me, and it means a lot. But that the same time, its not making me happier, per say. Its comforting to hear from him, but right now its just making me feel more alone. I want so badly to be happy, for his sake. But I can seem to find the strength to take things into my own hands. All the opportunities seem to be avoiding me.

Im trying to be tough. Im trying to figure it out.