Worried

Hey Jack,

For the first time ever, I’m really worried about you.

It’s been a hard couple of months.  Nothing big, just…well, we did sell our house. When we least expected to. Do you remember that big, beautiful stone house that we bought, conditionally on the sale of our house? And then we lost it because we didn’t sell our house? And then afterwards, by the end of the summer, I was so stressed from our house not having been looked at for so long, that we decided to stay. We agreed that we would take it off the market mid-September. I began bringing boxes back from storage and putting up pictures again. We would stay for the winter. But then that nutjob lady came and bought our house. Gave us 5 weeks to move. We figured it would be awesome and easy.

And it was.

We bought a house. An adorable, way too small stone house that lives in a magical forest. They agreed to our terms and we were ready to break ground to build an addition the week after we moved in. But then they freaked out. Or rather, he freaked out. Went to bed for three days, so much drama – and refused to sell to us.  And all we had to do was take the house from them. It was perfectly legal and believe me, I wanted to.  We had suffered so much, losing houses.  We had suffered sleepless nights, anxiety and exhaustion. And we had finally found THE HOUSE. The one that I thought we had suffered for. The one that had made all of this worthwhile. And that asshole freaked out and shut down.  He wouldn’t see your father when he drove out to see him. The realtors were pathetic, barely even trying to help. We tried to get our lawyer to do something and it turns out, they didn’t have a lawyer.  And our lawyer is dealing with our realtor and neither of them are telling us anything.

It is a big, stupid mess.

And I wish your father would talk to our realtor, but he won’t.  He keeps giving him chances. The benefit to do well.  And I’m done with that.

 

But the past two nights, you haven’t slept well.  You aren’t focusing on your homeschooling.

And I wonder if you’re worried.

I tried talking to you about it all, but you shrugged and said you were looking forward to the adventure.

Are you?

Should I be worried about you?

I know you’re tired. I know you’re weird. You’re acting strange. Kind of manic.  Clingy.  Non-stop talking.

 

I wish you’d stop worrying.

Because when I was growing up, I did the exact same thing.  I didn’t sleep well. I always worried about my parents. About whether my mom was mad. Whether they would divorce. Whether we had enough money.  I was clingy and it irritated her.

I hope you know that you don’t irritate me. Ever. I hate to say that my brain is fully occupied, but it is.

 

Just know that I think you’re awesome.

And I love your sensitive little heart.

 

xo

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