I lasted almost 3 years here on the farm. The first year I felt uncomfortable because I knew I wasn’t what they expected. I felt like an inconvenient intruder that may have been forced apon them because of family ties that didn’t really exist. The husband was probably told this was happening without much mental notice. Although the two were incredibly welcoming and hosppitable, it took me a long time to shake that feeling that I wasn’t really what they wanted or expected. A loving couple reaching retirement with their child finally independant and doing well, having a sudden new border living in the basement is one thing, but then to be shocked at how I had what some might say, rquired special needs. I might be the one saying that, but I do feel more like a child, than a self sufficient 6- year old.
My income wasn’t sufficient to survive on my own, and it went down rather than up in the past three years. I wasn’t contributing financially and in fact, I was eating some of their food and asking for loans frequently. It became expected that any “family” activitie would be paid for by them. It always bothered me, but it was also enjoyable time together, and living in a deserted location far from my normal conveniences like restaurants, festivals, events and – people. I did my best to put the negativity out of my mind and try to find joy in the situation instead of constant guilt.
In the second and third years, I had picked up chore responabilities. I was the new farm hand, although still not comfortable doing things without being told. I never have been good at finding things o do and doing them. I am a task-based person, mainly because my overall goal of not being yelled at conflicted with taking initiative. It also worked well as an excuse/reason to do as little as possible. I prefer the fear expanation, but others default to thinking I’m lazy. I constantly sense that conflict in those around me.
I was introduced to the gang of friends in year two but didn’t fit in very well for various reasons. In my imaginaation, I could image the pre-introduction banter about who I was, and peer pressure complaining about how I was taking advantage. They were farm people and “real” adults. As usual, I was the awkward guy without any experience in this life filled with self doubt. I needed to observe and ask a lot of questions to avoid being annoying, and I understand that makes me too anoying in a group of hard workers that just show up and help. They stopped asking if I wanted to help out, and they stopped inviting me soon after.
In year three, I had overcome some of that doubt and was developing a friendship with the husband. Not on the same level as his beer drinking hard working long time friends, but at least I felt comfortable during meals and the long car ride into the city every few weeks to pick up my grocery list. I started to feel much better about life. I hardly ever considered myself an inconveniece and came close to believing I was somewhat of an advantage. I was a third person some of the time, but for much of the time here in year three, I was the only oher person. The couple spent 90% of their time living in separate cities, and I let myself believe this was not a romantic breakup, and I needed to believe it wasn’t my fault. That was, and is still on my mind but I allowed myself to find other explanations. I’m used to being an annoying inconvenince in life, but I get extra depressed if I feel my existance is making life worse rather than better.
As much as I like to believe bein a roomate in other people’s lives makes everyone’s situation better, the truth I often face when it come time to part is that I didn’t. I frquently discover apon reflection that my lack of ambition and progress is a detriment, a bad influence, and when it ends, they are worse off, not better. I believed my presence in this home was not a net negative effect. I may not go asking to help, but being here reliably has been a benefit more than a detriment. I have been a handy housemate enough to accept it.
Then one day I was told no. I wasn’t wanted here. My mind filled in the blanks that I probably never was anything more than an obligation to save me, but when they discovered how much saving that entailed, and my clar lack of accepting my situation and not putting any effort to progress and solve what they considered was taking advantage, I was asked to leave. I aded the implied “as soon as possible” to the request because, nobody loves living where they are not welcome. In n instant, I was told, more or less, that year one was the right attitude. I was an inconvenient and annying addition to a life that unexpectedly made it worse for them.
Just as I started to feel comfortable on the rug I had been working to create, that rug was pulled out, and I’m back on the rock bottom floor with nothing but anxiety freezing me at a time when I desperatly need the confident version of me to survive and take charge. So I did what I always do. I nudged the universe to provide, found an alternative place to move and a new life to invade and disrupt. The universe provided and although thinking about it has concerns, ignoring it and relying on my ACCEPT AND ADAPT lifestyle will either be fine, or my life story will finally include those chapters on homelessness, shelters and living on the street until the universe finds me yet another way to restart the loop and begin the next chapter.
If I make the story the goal, everything is just the colour along the path. Good and bad choices presented to me and I don’t decide. I let the current take me down the stream and I just document my days in the canoe.
End of part 1
