I tried asking for permission to go back to the place I made home for a book launch of some of my artworks. My father asked,”Where will you stay?” I answered at my place and he replied there’s no more place,all my things were taken to my childhood home. I could feel tears threatening…no,not threatening but just strolling out like they were waiting,like they knew this moment was going to happen. I expected to be told no but I didn’t expect to be told I dont have a place that I called my own anymore. Apparently this happened days ago and nobody told me. No one is telling me anything.
I’m crying because I don’t know how much more loss I can take. I lost the family I thought I was building, I lost my independence, I lost my fight with Bipolar and now I’ve lost the home I was trying to build for myself. Imagining how much the word Home means to me,how far and how long it took me to feel at home. All that is gone. Everything is gone. It feels like years of finding myself,building friendships, doing what I love (art) has all come to an end.
I can’t take this loss.