how long does it take for a past to die

It has been a very busy 10 months. Perhaps a busy lifetime, but definitely a busy 10 months.

Recap: I, a single parent of three, found myself spiraling because the place I had rented for over 5 years had been sold out from underneath me. Needing to find a new place to move, and willing to make a large change in my life, I moved from the town I had been staying for over 11 years back to the home town I had grown up in, in Bitterroot Valley, Montana. I had assistance from my brother, whom I had not seen in almost two decades. An entire house stockpiled with hoarded crap had to be cut down to a single pulled trailer, as well as what would fit in the back of my 2014 Captiva Sport. The animals we had taken in were rehomed. A lot of my estranged spouse’s stuff was donated. It turned out I had a lot less stuff that was mine personally than I thought, which worked in my favor. The kids had their opinions on things but what could they do?

I made the decision to give up the job I was competent at for over 4 years and try my hands at new work, in a land I thought I would be familiar with.

That familiarity would be a siren call to muddle me while it strangled me to near death.

From April until early August, I found myself staying with family in a house up in the mountains. A lot of hard work needed to be put into the land, and it didn’t help that my stepfather and his wife were doing most of it by themselves. By day, I worked at a job. By evening, I helped as I could on the property. At night, we all slept on the floor or couches because the rooms that theoretically could have been used for us were being used for storage. It was an imperfect arrangement, but I wasn’t one to complain.

The job that was waiting for me was not, at all, what had been promised. I’m not the sort of person to call out an employer by name here, and it’s hard to discuss the employer vaguely without giving out too much information. He was having significant supply problems, which meant that a lot of us were leaving early because there just wasn’t work. Some of his processes were imprecise, which is an issue when dealing with metals. It wasn’t at all what I had thought it would be. I went from a job that paid me about $800 a week to a job that struggled to pay me $300. One can’t exactly take care of bills with that kind of pay. Not surprisingly, that job then started cutting people.

I drifted a bit from part time job to part time job before finding employment at a popular hardware store chain. At first, the job seemed reasonable, but it had me dealing with people in a customer service role again… and I found myself in a strange sense of culture shock. I’d tell these people I had spent the last decade out of state and it was always this weird “aren’t you glad you’re away from that, with all the taxes and people of color and the queers?” Like, full face mask off. There was a bit of a local “scandal” (I use that word in parenthesis) where students from the local high school wanted painting supplies to decorate a street as part of some LGBT thing or another, and none of the people who brought it up to me seemed to know the specifics, but all of them were fucking appalled, like at any moment they’d be sent to an internment camp until their high school children could gear up and shout “Wolverines!” (or in this case I guess, “Broncs!”) and shoot some people to save them. And it wasn’t everyone, but it wasn’t just a couple of people. It was an entire damn mood.

And in this environment I had to tread very lightly, even as I clearly was kind of the weird one out.

I was surprised when my contract with them had been cancelled through the temp agency, but only somewhat.

Then I got a job at a fast food joint where my second night there the staff was doing heroin. That’s about all I’ll say about that job.

In between all of this, I really struggled at the place I was staying. My oldest had grown to show nothing short of animosity towards me, and my stepfather backed him on this – less on the intent that I somehow deserved it, mind, but by allowing him to act out about things the way he did, more fittingly than ironically in a way I would never have been allowed to. My daughter continued to act up, which was an issue, but we had differing ideas on how to handle it. My youngest began to regress on some things, and it took some time to get him to start actively potty training again and to make progress on that end. My stepfather had also expressed a lot of frustration that on top of the rent I was paying, he had expected a lot more help with projects he had worked on, even as it seemed a lot of those projects couldn’t be addressed until the day he had decided to do them – a huge issue when you’re trying to take care of things and juggle a work schedule.

I genuinely appreciated being able to spend time with my family again, but it was also clear that the living arrangement wasn’t going to work out. Worse, however, is that the time spent in my home town was actively hurting my mental health. I felt like I didn’t know anyone – the people I had once known were no longer those people (funny how time changes!) and the type of people I was used to talking to… didn’t exist. As an example, I had confided with some coworkers how I had been practicing Spanish at my previous job, and their response was outright disgust. “You’re enabling them. You should be teaching them English.”

With the ability to make good money fleeting and stress mounting at home, I made the decision to accept a job offer in Billings, and stay with a cousin out there while I got my feet under me.

I hit a deer not 30 minutes in. Thankfully the bumper of the car was easily mounted back on, but… yeah.

So! In Billings, family was very gracious of accepting me, although it became clear rather quickly that I’d be overstaying my welcome. Trying to find a place to rent of my own proved tricky – rent is much higher out here than back in Illinois, some of these places wanted up to 6 months in advance (although a few would settle for first, last, and deposit). They also wanted rental references dating back to 7 years, which proved difficult… and almost none of them rent to felons, regardless of how far back that criminal history may go.

In the interim, things were making good strides. The kids were in school, and that seemed to be helping them. My oldest steadily stopped treating me like I’d kicked his cat. My daughter made new friends. My youngest fell into a routine. The new job paid really well, although it also had long hours – there were days where I saw my kids on their way home from school and then I would rush off to work myself. I was able to get caught up on a few things. Having family that was helpful was a good thing, and the amount of judgement was… well, not zero, but a bit more comfortable.

That said, we weren’t supposed to be staying with family forever out there, and at a point it became clear we needed to move on. Since I hadn’t found a proper place to rent, my cousin suggested I purchase an older RV from a friend of hers. It seemed like a novel solution, so I put some of the money I had saved on a down payment for place onto the RV and got it registered. The engine was in surprisingly great shape, and it needed some minor cosmetic issues dealt with, a new set of batteries, etc.

However, in my hindsight and in not looking more into these things… I quickly learned I would have no place to park the RV.

Here’s the thing. Most places in Billings that allow RVs to park and stay, either daily or monthly, expect people to have vehicles that are ten years or newer. There are a few campgrounds with hookups – that were, strangely, more expensive on a weekly rate than a standard hotel. Also, because of scarcity during the winter months, the ones that are actually open are generally already well booked.

So I ended up leaving the RV on my family’s property and moving into a hotel. To help pay for it, I ended up taking a job at the hotel as well (extra money is nice, but the real perk was the employee rate)

In the first two weeks of being here, my car was stolen. I was able to recover the vehicle, at least. The thieves stripped everything inside it, including important documents I’d left in the glove box, the children’s car seats, tools… everything. Low key surprised they didn’t cut the catalytic converter.

While dealing with all of that, I also continued to work my warehouse job. It was long demanding hours, and the pay was… okay. I was surprised the amount that was taken out of it for Union Dues and a health plan I wouldn’t be able to use until six months in (I was losing about $700 a month total). I had one day a week I got to spend some time with my children. I made sure they were driven to school, I made sure they came home from school, and then off to the warehouse salt mines. Some days I was so exhausted I’d get home around 4:30 in the morning and wake up at 7:00am, in the parking lot, still buckled in my car unaware I never went inside.

It was rather telling that I gave this place around 60 hours a week of my time, and it literally took them 40 seconds one day to say “we’re cutting people who haven’t been making rate, and you’re one of them. I’m going to need your keys and orange vest.”

Welp.

So I’m looking for new night time work. Still have the hotel job, which has segued over from housekeeping to groundskeeping. I like some of the people I work with, but this job won’t pay the bills on its own. As I was looking over my finances, however, I came to realize that I was spending a lot of money making sure things were running while I was gone. The amount of money I spent on fast food because I didn’t have the time or inclination to cook, for example, was monstrous.

I’ve also been working with some caring people who genuinely feel I need to get some work published. I agree with them. It’s a shame it isn’t as easy as throwing my head on the keyboard until something comes out. We’ll see where that goes.

I’ve also finally, *finally* after years of being unmedicated, have a therapist appointment next week to discuss some of my options. I need to do something. My executive function has been completely beheaded. My mental health is at dangerous levels. I didn’t think it was that bad, until I took my youngest in for an appointment with an autism specialist only to have her start asking me a bunch of questions and wanting to make sure I’m not a threat to myself. Like no lady, I’m not going to kill myself, I can’t afford that right now…

So, things ebb and flow. I have little doubt I can find a second job until I find a *better* second job, and I’ll keep working on some things in the interim.

MEANWHILE

I’ve had this webpage/blog for a long while now. Years. I started it as a website that could do redirects, and then it became a WordPress blog. Recently, I’ve changed the name of it from “Yourock.fyi” to “Selcouth.fyi” because… well, I’d say “it fits the brand better” but honestly three years ago someone else had Selcouth. fyi. It’s mine now.

I’m sharing it with a few friends, who will introduce themselves as needed. In this way, it will be easier to generate content and by proxy generate interest to the website.

I’m also stepping away from longform book reviewing. The short reason is that it’s not what I want to be doing, and the long answer is it isn’t like a lot of people are reading them anyways. I once wrote a positive review of a book, shared it with the author who thanked me… and they didn’t even read it! A lot more hits come on either personal pieces, or pieces of creative content.

I am trying to get at least one work of fiction published. If I can get one done, the rest should follow. There’s some plan called “Fifty books to Two Thousand Dollars” (50to2k) or something, I dunno I didn’t join the Facebook group, but I figure I could use an extra $2000 so I’d better get to writing. A side effect of this is that my ability to read will be diminished, and my ability to publicly review what I have written will likely be tarnished further. I’ll need to find some sort of balance there.

Overall, I feel if I get organized and make the most out of things, I can forge a new life for myself and my children, and figure things out from there. Maybe I’ll find myself along the way. OR MAYBE I’LL DIE no I shouldn’t joke about that, people will get the wrong idea. Anyways, nothing to it but to do it? Maybe? If something doesn’t work, fix it or change it, don’t just keep staring at it hoping it will.

I am fortunate, perhaps even blessed, to have so many individuals reach out to me during this time to encourage me to do better, and to give me some of the tools needed in order to become better. To all of you, thank you.