Being Amber Rhea

Not sure where to start or what to say… but alas most of life isn’t a nice consistent narrative. But then, when I was going through my archives to tag old posts (I gave up ’round about 2004) it reminded me that I used to blog more freely before I didn’t feel the constraints of titles, tags, potential audience, and a million other things. (I’ve told you a million times not to exaggerate!)

Been having a weird week so far. Sometimes I have these “lapses”… not sure what else to call ‘em. Oh and first of all, if my mom reads this (which I don’t think she does lately, she’s been so busy with other things) DON’T GET ALL WORRIED ABOUT ME. It’s a characteristic of depression, unfortunately; sometimes, even though I’m taking my meds and doing everything I’m supposed to do to take care of myself, I have bad days or weeks. Often I can’t put my finger on a particular “trigger,” but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

I really need to find a therapist that doesn’t suck. Truthfully, I haven’t had a good therapist since I lived in Texas. She was one of the only good things about living there. Her, and my apartment. And being driving distance from Niki. That was basically it.

Anyway, one thing that I’ve identified that has been bothering me is that I’m just so ready to find our house and move out of our apartment. For the longest time I was not at all worked up about home-ownership (unlike a lot of other people who just seemed to jump into it because it was “the thing to do,” even though they hadn’t done any proper planning) but I always figured when the time came for it to be right for me, I would know. And now it’s here, and I know. I’m not living paycheck-to-paycheck anymore (fingers crossed that it stays that way!), Rusty and I are together, I don’t want to leave Atlanta, etc. - it all makes sense. I think being mentally ready to move on - mentally already having moved on, in some ways - heightens my frustration. I feel like things are breaking all the time. Like this week, our garbage disposal broke twice (and as of now isn’t fixed for good yet). I try not to complain because I know about having it better than a lot of people, blah blah. But this is my blog so deal.

It’s very important to me to have a “home base” where I truly feel at home, and where things are clean, organized, in their place, and feel comfortable. For a long time that place was our apartment, but increasingly I don’t feel that way about it - I just feel annoyed. I want furniture that isn’t made out of particle board. I’m tired of concrete floors. I hate that there are marks on our walls from where the movers banged shit around when we moved in. All these things didn’t used to bother me (well, the marks on the walls always did), but now they do, and I can only conclude it’s because I’m ready to move on to the next stage. I’m annoyed with nothing feeling “settled.”

I’m sick of: strange noises coming from the upstairs neighbors’ apartment, as if they’re running a wood shop (seriously, we’ve heard sawing noises); the kid in some apartment somewhere that I can always hear from my bathroom, who screams and wails all the freaking time; weird smells in the hallway because apparently some of our neighbors are disgusting; the Phantom Pooper.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no sparkly illusions about home-ownership being the solution to all problems oh except for the part where if anything breaks you have to fix it yourself and buy your own HVAC unit etc. etc. But I am ready.

I felt a little better last night after talking to Rusty about some of this. But I still feel kind of out of whack (<– correct spelling?).

Here are some photos of houses I like:

(as seen here)

(as seen here)

More later.