I realized last night that I have never on my own picked my place to live. It’s been found for me or provided by others. I’ve lived with the people who found my home until they’ve left or I’ve left. Usually if I’ve left, it’s because we both left the place. I’m okay once I get the place but I feel overwhelmed by making the choice of where to live.
I don’t usually think of myself as an indecisive person. Although since Xina died it seems that I just let decisions make me. Sort of hang on until I have to let go, then hang on to the next thing until I have to let go of that. It’s clearly not a good decision making process. I feel anxious, unsure and disenfranchised.
I’ve been without my stuff for almost 3 years now. August 2015 seems like a whole lifetime ago. July 31 2016 seems like it just happened.