When we moved in May, we put ourselves in a horrible situation.
Our neighborhood is scary.
Our house is gross.
Because of some weird situation with the previous tenant and an old bill, our gas was disconnected. Um, cold showers much?
And, our stove is gas run. Meaning, we can't really cook.
We're trying.
We're going to get out of this.
But, it's scary and overwhelming to pick a new place to move. To start over, yet again.
We're not living on this side of town, for sure.
And, I think we're both split about where to go next. We could go home, as I wrote about earlier, back to the country.
I realized what I most love about the country though, the opportunity to be surrounded by nature, and right now, I'm thinking there are other towns that aren't quite so tiny as where we came from that give us that opportunity.
Going back means going back to a nice support system, but also means going back to a lot of bad memories.
I once read to never make big decisions when you're battling depression. I think the same is true for grief.
This choice is so hard to make.
I don't know what to do.
I do know with no gas (for heat, cooking, and warm baths) and a crime-filled neighborhood, we have to get out.
This wasn't a good choice.
Moving here.
It's not easy to face a bad decision.
