Uprooting … before there were ever roots.

I wanna feel badly.

Thinking I should feel badly.

Thinking there’s something wrong (“wrong”) with me because I’m not feeling badly.

Truth is, I’m not feeling badly.

Feeling instead calm, joyful, freed. Freed from a prison — a small prison — not of my own making. Freed of a prison — a small prison — comprising bars created by a few other tenants and landlord and the ties that they have.

And at the front of this etheric courtroom a pair of building owners who don’t live on the premises and have never met me, seen me or put a face to the name on the lease or person who pays the rent in cash on time monthly.

Here’s the news.

After some two months of being here, I’ve been told by the manager to leave. I SHOULD be crying. I SHOULD be really really upset. Distraught. Beside myself. Pissed off. Frightened at finding housing. Frightened at the prospect of finding new lodgings in a town renowned for HARD-TO-FIND housing and EXPENSIVE housing.

Is it denial?

Is it shock?

Or is it knowingness that a better housing environment is in store and that this wasn’t all that it appeared to be when I moved in and was cracked up to be in my mind?

Is it R-E-L-I-E-F, a muted but similar relief that an inmate freshly released from a stint in jail feels?

It’s all of those things and more.

Truth is .. the truth is … there is much more rumbling beneath the surface than I spoke about to anyone.

There is a … consortium here in the building … allegiances / friendships formed by a handful or so of longtime residents and the landlord who lives on the premises.

There are things said behind my back between residents, between residents and landlord and between landlord and owners who have never met me.

There are rumors, misconceptions and above all misrepresentations. There’s been no one in this domestic mess stepping forward on my behalf. No one even really listening to me.

It’s been a situation of inequalities and imbalances — in communication, in expression, in listening, in characterizations.

I hate rumors and unfair attacks and this is a reason I hate groups! Because wherever you have groups, you have unfounded allegations … behind-the-scenes and behind-the-back attacks. You have people who don’t care what you have to say. They care only about what THEY have to say or do and their fellows.

Petty small-minded judgmental uncompassionate: the stuff of which groups thrive.

I’ll have more to articulate anon. For now … for tonight … this night upon which it is confirmed that I will be moving during the holidays — or sooner if I can make it happen — I need write only that I a moving after only two months here.

And though it is a bother, a hassle, an inconvenience, sucky timing and a hardship, it is not an unwelcomed move.

Not a distressing move — save for the distressing behavior  and mindsets of my fellow residents and landlord.

I wish I could feel badly. Wish I felt like shedding a tear.

But I don’t. I feel … “thank goodness this strangulation is over.”

I begin the search for better … for a breathing space … for breath. My own.





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