One year ago today I was moving out of a brand new house in a new subdivision of a major city, full of brand new furniture and pretty little decorations. Everything matched, the tiles were all slate, the floors were all hardwood, the bonus room over the garage had a beautiful pitched ceiling. The attached oversize 2 car garage had a brand new Mustang, a new motorcycle, a new quad. The backyard was pie shaped and had a brand new low maintenance deck, looking out over a greenbelt in a neighbourhood where children rode their bikes, played hockey in the winter, and hide and go seek in the summer. Almost every home had a dog that was walked each evening...the walk taking longer than it should because every couple of houses there was someone outside to stop and talk to. The 4 piece bathroom off the master bedroom had 2 sinks, a jetted tub (that easily sat 3 people) and a frosted window that required no covering just beautiful natural light. The house was beautiful, my (our) dream house...we built it that way.
We worked hard for that house, we lived in shitty apartments, condos, townhouses. We bought a starter home and fixed it up (I loved that house the most), and sold it when the market was good. We lived out of a hotel, had all of our belongings stolen. We worked ridiculous hours, hardly ever seeing each other. When I returned to school we agonized over my having to leave the job I had managing the pharmacies. The first 3 years of Uiniversity I worked full time managing a restaurant (stupid flexible hours), easily putting in 50 hour weeks in addition to attending classes full time. He worked long hard dirty hours in the sewer (I remember one particular day when he worked 20 hours straight because services were backed up), sticking it out in the trenches, finally working his way up to a salaried position as superintendent. We earned that house, we worked hard and we built it the way we wanted it.
But there was no life in that house. There was only anger, and resentment, and sadness, and selfishness. So I left. Maybe we worked too hard to earn that house and not hard enough on our relationship. Maybe the ten years together had actually only been 2 or 3 or 4 because of all the time we were apart due to work. Whatever happened, that house broke the relationship apart. It was beautiful, but deadly.
So, then I moved...into the 'hood. renting a small top floor of a house blocks away from hookers and crackheads (real hookers and real crackheads). I took some of my stuff and I left. Left the beautiful house and moved into a cute little rental in the slums. It wasn't so bad, I kept telling myself...all of those years of hard work and here I was walking my dogs nervously at night avoiding used needles in the gutter. My dream house was gone but my dream wasn't.
What was the dream? During my second year of University I knew that I was going to go to Grad school...not that I wanted to go but that I WOULD go. I would have to go it solo because the dream house would not be moved. So...go to Grad school, yes. But what to study? Evolutionary Psychology...is that even a thing? It was as if a fog lifted and my path became clear...Evolutionary Psychology. Was there anything more perfect...well...the answer to that is yes, yes there is. Evolutionary psychology studying the evolutionary mechanisms that contribute to homosexuality. YES! It was a path that was made for me...my very own yellow brick road (or perhaps rainbow brick road is more appropriate). So, living in the 'hood no longer seemed that bad when I had something to focus my energy on...Grad school. Fuck You dream house! I don't need your beautiful tile work, or your amazing hardwood floors , or the giant two tiered deck. I am going to make a difference in the lives of many people (well...at least one out of every ten).
I got in.
I. GOT. IN.
I managed to get a position with the only researcher in all of Canada studying Homosexuality from an evolutionary perspective. Well...I should re-phrase: the only researcher empirically (Science bitches! it works!!) studying the evolved mechanisms of homosexuality. Fuck you dream house, Fuck you crack heads, Fuck you 'hood rats. I got in.
So, as I write this I am lying in a crummy basement suite, full of all kinds of bugs that I have never seen before. I don't have a deck, a new mustang, quad, or motorcycle, I don't have the beautiful giant ensuite or the amazing new bedroom set with the mattress that feels as though it massages your back all night with tiny robot hands, I don't have the slate, the hardwood, the fireplace, the stainless steel appliances, or the pitched ceiling...in fact in my kitchen right now I don't have any ceiling. But I have my life back. And when I come home this basement isn't filled with anger, resentment or sadness...it's filled with hope, excitement, strength, and a few random bugs that I don't have the heart to kill.
Today is my anniversary of freedom but it is his birthday (I gave him the best present ever...I left without being a greedy demanding bitch) Happy Birthday Tom, I hope you are enjoying YOUR dream home today and that it hasn't swallowed you up like it was doing to me.
The bugs and I are planning the future, if you are ever in the neighbourhood stop by , stay the night I'll blow up an air mattress for you and you can crash in my pad, and don't feel sorry for me living in this basement. This is the home that dreams built!
(standing ovation)
ReplyDeleteMay your skies be forever clear!