Blackwood Street

I like my own company.  I like the company of others too.  But I like that I can close my own front door at the end of an evening and not have to see or talk to anyone until I choose to do so.  This is why I live alone.  This is a very important part of who I am.

When this all happened it became very apparent very quickly that no matter the outcome I’d lost that.  I’d never be truly alone.  I’d have to rely on others for help.  This was one of the things I’d have to learn to live with.  But I think that that’s something to talk about another day.

For the moment I want to talk about my flat.  The flat I loved so much would not be suitable for my needs.  I’d not get in through the front door.  If I got through the front door I’d not get into the living room, or the kitchen, or the bedroom.  It was apparent that not only had I mentally lost the feeling of control over that part of my life.  But physically I’d also lost my Fortress of Solitude.

It’s very difficult accepting that your life is being packed up in boxes and put in storage. It’s very difficult knowing that people are going through your personal things and packing them away.  So ok they were family members but that didn’t make it any easier. 

This was probably the most difficult thing for me to get through. Even with the paralysis, the diabetes, the swine flu, mentally knowing that my life before all of that had been packed up into boxes and that I’d never had the chance to say goodbye to it was difficult.  It was hard.  It was a ground floor flat with a load of junk in it.  But it was more than that.  It was my home. It was my life.