It’s All Gone

This is not a happy post, fair warning.

And there is no knitting involved per say.

The storage unit that held ALL of our things was sold at auction last month. I was lied to and told it was taken care of, bill paid, auction cancelled.

My parents planned to drive up through Santa Barbara on their way from Arizona to my brother’s house in central California and stop at the unit to get all of the kids things plus whatever else they could fit. Including my yarn and hand knits.

When I couldn’t get an answer from George about meeting with them at the unit this Saturday I had a feeling something was going on. Finally I got a text message telling me there was nothing to pick up. Period.

There was an entire house in that unit. All of my kids toys, furniture, baby keepsakes, scrapbooks, photo albums, home movies, everything but the clothes on our backs we brought with us to Idaho.

I don’t want to think about my things. My childhood things. My baby pictures, my scrapbooks, my keepsakes from all over the world.

I keep making mental lists of what’s gone. Not healthy but I can’t help it. I will be doing something, like making copies at work, and all of a sudden something will pop into my head like the quilt my Mom made me for my 35th birthday. Gone. Some stranger out there now owns it.

It is so bizarre to think someone went through every single one of my things; things I saved money for, things I found at ridiculously good deals, things I collected for years, things that brought my family joy, things I thought I would have forever and hand down to my kids when they moved out or just needed something.

Artwork. All kinds of artwork. Paintings my Mom did, the kids did, ceramics, pottery, sewing, knitting, crochet, cross-stitch, photography. Oh shit. Photography. Photos I took, the kids took, photos my Dad has taken over the last 40 years.
Fuck me.
There is so much that is just gone. Never to be seen again. I don’t even want to think of how much was thrown out.

Although the buyer of the storage unit told the manager of the storage unit that everything but  8 boxes of personal items sold.

8 boxes.
All I know about the 8 boxes is that they contain “photos and personal items and papers”.
Tracy is picking them up tomorrow. I do believe I am going to have her just ship them to me. We have talked about storing them at my brother’s house but my Mom made a good point the other day that it may be worth the expense to have all that we own with us. Comforting for the kids to have them to hold. It’s not like it will be hard to move 8 boxes when the time comes. That’s fucking depressing.

That is all that is left of my 36 years of life of things.

I know, they are just things. Items that can be replaced. Furniture, books, clothes, SHOES, PURSES, YARN, fabric, kitchen goods, china, silver, dishes, collectibles. My handmade wedding dress.

Collections gone: vintage aprons, yarn, book series, seasonal dishes, vintage household items, vintage coffee items, omg I can’t keep going. It’s too much to think about.

Thomas the Tank Engine. That was going to be Trevor’s college fund (not really, that’s a joke). Seriously. That collection is worth a ridiculous amount of money. Oh well, gone now.

All of the furniture George handmade the kids. Bunk beds, Sadie’s armoire, the baby cradle. Those are the ones that were brought up immediately by the kids. It’s just furniture. It’s alright. We can replace them.

There is a sad sense of freedom that comes with starting over.

I sat the kids down, told them the storage unit had been sold at auction and our things were gone.
Sadie was angry. Tyler said it’s okay we can start over new. Trevor cried and cried and cried.
I cried and cried and cried. We all cried and cried and cried. I am angry. I am ready to start over new.

My kids are amazing. I know kids are resilient but the shit my kids have gone through emotionally the last year is tremendous. Sadie has straight A’s, tons of friends and her sense of humor that keeps everyone laughing (even when she doesn’t mean to). Tyler has come through being bullied by kids (still ongoing) and ignored by the special needs team and is doing well with the help of a few select teachers and his own strength. Trevor has matured and found that even when things make him feel like his “life is over”, he keeps going and can be happy.

I don’t ever talk about George, how he’s acting, what he’s doing or not doing because quite honestly there is nothing positive I can say and I refuse to be that bitch of an ex-wife. He will get what’s coming to him, whether you want to call it karma or God’s wrath. Either way, I won’t hate him no matter how much others think I should. I want him to be happy and healthy, then maybe he can do what’s right.

Okay, it’s taken me 3 days to write this and I think I am done. I have a couple days off of work and am trying to relax, take care of the things I do have still.
I am blessed to have what I have.
I am blessed with great friends (still none here), amazing siblings, the most fabulous parents anyone could ask for and kids that love me no matter my failings as a Mom.

Ugh. Mother’s Day is coming. Damn.

Oh yah, and did I mention all my yarn, books, magazines, everything I ever knit/crocheted/designed/sewed/made is all GONE?!

If anyone is feeling nostalgic or is just curious about all that entails go look at my Ravelry profile. I can’t yet. Just seeing it all there is something I think may push me over the edge.

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4 responses to “It’s All Gone

  1. I’m so sorry for your loss and the difficult time you and your kids are going through. My thoughts are worth you.

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  2. I have tried and tried and tried not to cry. Dammit, you made me. I want to come there and hug you. And give you all the things you need. And that the kids need. I want you to know how amazing you are. I love you so much.

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  3. Aww, Cori!
    I love you too. And I know you want to do all of those things. I am done crying at this point. I am pretty numb. I think of things constantly that are gone and just go hard inside. Swallow the feelings. I can’t change it all being gone. I can’t change how other people choose to affect my life. I can only move on. And not hate.

    Like

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