No, there hasn't been another fire. But every single day and nearly every single hour I am thinking about the fire. Sometimes I've remembered something else I lost in the fire and I either get angry about it, or I'm ready to cry again. Sometimes I'm brooding about wanting to get back in there and sift through the rubble. They're tearing it down bit by bit, and a few times when I've driven by, I can see my old burnt up furniture in the back of the truck they are using to haul it away.
I chose to move into a furnished apartment just up the street from my old place, as it was easier to stay with the same landlord, and they had something available that very day I went looking. As well, I didn't have to really change much about getting to work, except that now the ferry terminal is too far away to walk to in the morning, so I've also been robbed of that pleasure. I just didn't have it in me to learn a whole new neighborhood, and a different bus schedule to get to work, not for just a few months. However, the drawback is, I now have to pass my house every single day as I head to work, and every single time I am driving through the city. I always look, but now it's getting harder and harder to look at the burned up carcass that used to be my lovely apartment.
I get reminded all the time that I am lucky I was able to escape with my life and my kitty. Yes, I know these things. I know them quite intimately, as the smoke filled my apartment while I was calling 911 and looking for Stormy. I am still pissed about the fire though. I mind very much that instead of hunkering down for the winter in my cozy apartment with my big screen tv, teddy bear furniture, and all of my books and hobbies around me, I am in this shitty little apartment filled with crappy furniture. It was to be a winter of regeneration. Instead it is a winter of bitterness. Partly my fault, I did choose the apartment. I just hate it. There is no living room, which i didn't think would bother me as much as it does. I miss curling up on the sofa or in my big chair & a half. Now I have to sit on a shitty old bed to watch the 20inch television propped up on a tall dresser. I have thought about getting a cheapo second hand chair to stick in my bedroom, however I can't handle a chair on my own, and I've mentioned it enough times to my mother who offered to find someone help me handle one, but that seems to have been forgotten. So a month later, I am still sitting on the edge of my bed to watch television. If I make other plans to get a chair, that would likely be the exact day my mother arranged to have someone drop a chair off and I would never hear the end of it.
I only have basic cable, with no PVR or digital box. I was complete spoiled for 2 years with my PVR. Now I barely watch anything on cable because I just cannot stand the commercials, and the fact that I have to check the channel guide on channel 8, and can only see what's coming on in the next half hour....sigh...so I watch my dvd's instead, mostly ER. I usually end up laying down to watch, and because it's a crappy bed, I have to change positions quite often or my hips get sore.
I also mind that I don't have any of my kitchen stuff to cook with. It isn't worth it to replace most of it, as I would only be storing it in April. So now I barely cook at all. Not like I have much of an appetite anyhow. Lost that in the fire too. Some days I can eat a meal, while others, the food has no taste.
It isn't about the owning of material goods, it is more about the comfort I've had to surrender. Each piece I bought for my apartment last year was carefully chosen for a reason, and things just all worked. Most everything I had chosen to ship down from the north was also carefully chosen, not wanting to pay Canada Post to ship junk. I had kept what I did for mostly emotional attachments. Now most of it is in a charred heap. And then there are all of the things that may have survived the fire, but are likely being dragged off to the dump by the demo crew.
That's when my anxiety sets in. I had a few boxes of paper, which likely only scorched and sat in a soggy heap while the fire burned everything else, as tightly packed paper doesn't tend to burn too well. Now my personal papers are likely blowing all around the dump for everyone to see. Stuff like student loan papers, my university transcripts, my health records, my divorce papers, my bills, private letters I've hung onto for years, income tax papers, the list goes on. My mother would be having a coronary about now, given she shreds even the envelopes because her name is on them.
I am rather depressed. I'm quite certain about that, and know how to recognize the signs, given my profession as social worker. It doesn't make things any easier to manage. I'm still depressed, i just know why and how. Every day I get up thankful to be alive, but ruminating about the effect the fire has had on me. I really resent that I had to go through the ordeal. Dealing with all of the post-fire stuff is downright exhausting. Between the seemingly endless shopping, the insurance claim, sifting through the few things I did recover from the fire, setting up house again, and talking about the fire to everyone who asks is just draining sometimes. Having to buy all of your clothes in the middle of winter when you are planning a trip somewhere warm for a year is quite a challenge, though I have to admit, even though it's January, summer items are slowly making their way to the stores.
Replacing clothing is no easy task. When you think of your assortment of clothes in various closets, dressers, etc, it is an accumulation of items. Things that were bought during different seasons, at different places, probably 2-3 items at a time or less. Much of it might represent your interests, particularly the t-shirt collection I had. Most of my t-shirts were souvenir ones, from concerts I had attended, music festivals, exotic locations, musicians I enjoyed, or themes that I enjoyed. I was able to get a nice assortment of rock t-shirts at Old Navy, but it isn't the same. There is absolutely no fond memory attached to any of them.
It isn't just me that has been affected. Stormy is without his 'teddy' that he had since he was a kitten and held some weird fascination with. He wouldn't play with it at all when I was in the house, but as soon as I was gone, even to the dumpster, he would be using the bear, and I could tell because it was in a different place than when I left, even just for 5 minutes. I'm not sure what he did with it in my absence, but I think there was some licking involved...
Housefires suck.
No comments:
Post a Comment