Somedays I feel like I'm an adult full of wisdom. Other days I feel like I'm still in high school and a kid afraid of the big bad real world. Sometimes I see traits of my mom in me, like when I plan everything to a T, or research things before I buy them. Other days I know I have parts of my dad within me, like when I ask a friend why they are upset and give them a hug, or always try to be on time, if not early. And somedays I wish I didn't have parts of them within me. That I didn't inherit their faults.
After struggling with "fixing" my brakes all day on Saturday, I was frustrated, cold, and tired. I came home to find two black trash bags sitting on top of my bed. I went over and opened them up, and saw momentos from my childhood and early years. There was my old pink crocheted blanket, my ballerina trophy from my recital, there were pictures of my best friend and I sitting on the black top at recess, there were my prom dresses from junior and senior year, and my old letter jacket. And they were thrown into trash bags. I wasn't pleased, because they used to be in a plastic tub. I packed them in one before I moved out of my house and into an apartment and put it in the closet in the basement. It's been sitting there for over two years now, undisturbed. Until this weekend, that is.
Sunday morning I asked my mom why she threw all of my stuff into trash bags. "Oh, well I needed that bin for my stuff," she said. "Well, why can't I just keep this stuff downstairs in the closet? Why does it have to be in my room?" I asked. "No, no, no, I don't want any of your stuff in my house. Get it out." I was hurt by this. I mean, seriously, what parent doesn't want their kid's old stuff? I just don't get it. If I ever am a parent, I won't make my kid take all of their stuff with them. I mean, seriously, it was ONE BIN. It's not even like I was taking up the entire closet. She told my other brother who's 20, the same thing, that he needed to take his stuff with him too. It makes no sense to me. Yes, they are my things. Things she didn't need to go through btw. But is it really that much to ask that I can keep ONE BIN full of stuff at the house? It's not like my house is filled to the gills with junk. It's not at all. There's plenty of room. Maybe on a deeper level I don't want to accept that the house I grew up in is no longer my home. Maybe I don't want to grow up and part with my childhood self. But I've always known I can't be there forever and I look forward to the day when I move out and can be on my own again. Hell, I can't wait till I have my own place to call home, even if that means I'll be in debt forever.
It can just be really frustrating when you live with your parents and I think my mom is being insensitive but she got her way. My stuff is still sitting in my room, along with my luggage that she won't let me keep downstairs, a pile of books that she won't let me put on the bookshelf, and a couple of boxes. My room is getting too crowded with all of my stuff, so I think sometime soon I'm going to get access to my P.O.D. and put it all in there. That way I can at least see my floor again.