Pheonix or Failure?

To understand my 2020 and therefore, my 2021, one must understand my 2019. I lived in a 2 bedroom 1.5 bath mobile home in the “Mojave” desert. It wasn’t much but it was the only home I had ever made my own, much less owned. Social anxiety, bp, and a host of other mental health issues can make steady income difficult. She wasn’t pretty, my trailer, but she did her job kept me warm and safe and kept pesky humans out. I loved her.

September 2019 I was asked by a friend of the family to help take care of his pets and his house because his wife had been hospitalized. I said yes packed my two dogs up and headed straight there with the arrangements made to return every couple days to tend to my cats. I was there for months. November came and Thanksgiving week it had the audacity to snow, keeping me from my home for a week. When I finally got back the cats, who loved to turn on the faucet in the kitchen, had let the water run and the snow had frozen, cracked and burst my pipes. Every inch of my home was covered in water and had been for days. Furniture, appliances, belongings all ruined. I returned to that families house having a breakdown and with no idea what to do.

February 2020 came and my father, a former plumber/construction worker, had made arrangements to come and help me salvage and repair. What we could save was mostly dvds, knic knacs and other baubles. The walls were swollen, the floor bubbled, doors warped. It would have to be gutted. When her first walls came down she looked how I felt. She was empty, broken, her beams sagging, sub floor pocked and uneven. Unstable. Unliveable. Still we soldiered on. I bought drywall and patch compound. New cheap vinyl flooring. I started to dream of the way she would look once I remade her in MY style.

In April California shut down completely. Along with the shutdown came a loss of income, and a lack of day labor to assist my 64 year old father. He and I did what we could. Deciding to demolish all floors and the kitchen walls first then work room by room. In July he was hospitalized for a blood infection and an amputation due to diabetes. He lost several toes but I almost lost my father. He remains on dialysis for possible kidney failure and can no longer walk or stand.

She sat alone, untouched for much of the summer and fall. I would come every few days for the cats, and to just wish to be home. I would sit amongst the rubble and look at her with sad, albeit realistic eyes. She was now going to be a rush job. Patch what I could, just enough to get home. “I’ll figure out furniture, floors and walls later let’s just get the planning fixed first.”

October the friend of the family informed me we’d need to put a rush on it because his wife had to come home and my dogs and I couldn’t be here in the way of nurses and hospice equipment. I cried for days. I panicked. I called my therapist. It’s almost February. I now have custody of my fathers 4 dogs as well as my own. Still no income and I am still here with these patient people. Living in a small room til 5 on every day when it’s safe to go into the common areas.

She sits alone. The same way we left her in late July, early August before my birthday. I WILL sell everything I own. I WILL YouTube how to fix her. I WILL go home. I will not let my mental health stop me from saving my safe place. I have no choice. She will rise, if I don’t fail.