Back In My Angry Place

I guess it's time for an update. I just don't have a lot of good news to share, and I hate to be negative. I was waiting for something positive, and I saw the new tile today, and it looks awesome! So there it is, the positive. Now, for, as Paul Harvey used to say, the rest of the story....

Some Nashvillians have received money from the "We Are Home" program. We have not. I called to check on the progress of my application last week. Now, first of all, everybody I had previously dealt with in this application process has been sooooo great and very kind. Unfortunately, not so with the lady last week. She told me that she needed a copy of my insurance policy. I explained to her that our homeowner's association held that policy for all of our section. She asked why I had not insured the contents of my home. Frankly, I do not believe that was any of her business, but since she could have shredded my application at any moment, I told her that I had not been able to afford it. She said, "What if your house had burned down?" IT DIDN'T BURN DOWN, IT FLOODED!!!! I GUESS I WOULDN'T BE TALKING TO YOU IF MY HOUSE HAD BURNED DOWN, NOW WOULD I????? Of course, since she held all of the power, I couldn't say any of this to her, but I was screaming it in my head. Then she said she'd have to talk to her supervisor, but she didn't think she could help me until I insured my contents. WHAT CONTENTS????? I LOST EVERYTHING!!! WHAT PART OF EVERYTHING DOES SHE NOT UNDERSTAND??? Their grant only pays to rebuild the outside, anyway. It doesn't pay for lost belongings. Of course, I continued to let her talk to me like a chastised child, because I'm a weenie, and she made me cry. So, bad experience there. Still waiting for her to call me "right back" to tell me what her supervisor said.

The other upsetting thing has been the change of seasons. Usually, I love when the weather cools off. Not this year. I never expected to still be living with my parents as the seasons changed. I only grabbed summer clothes from my flooded home, so I need to go shopping for new clothes, which would usually be a fun thing, but I find myself paralyzed when it comes to that task. I have one sweatshirt that I pull on during the cool mornings, but the flip-flops are starting to make my feet cold. I miss my UGGs and my Danskos. I've contemplated moving to the beach. I wouldn't have much to pack, and what I do have is for warm weather, but there are a few kinks in that plan.

For some reason, Saturday night, I started having flashbacks to the water coming in and the carpet buckling up around my feet. I was so shocked! I was so mad! Why did I just stand there? What was I thinking? Why did I not get my daughter out of there? I wish time would turn back and take this experience down a different path. Why did God let that water come in my house? Oh, it makes me absolutely furious! The cycle of grief, I guess, is cycling back around. Denial is my favorite stage, but I can't seem to stay there, although I try.

So that's where we are in the process. Drywall is up, tile is in bathrooms and on floors. Tubs are in. Money is just about gone. I'm back in my angry place.