Interference

I've been gone the last week, and it was great to be away, but made it harder to be back here, especially since while I was gone, there was meddling in my bedroom. They apparently took all of the furniture out of the bedroom to clean in here. So I come back home, and while most things are where I put them, many are not as well. It is like - why did I even go through the effort of setting myself up in this room. Why did I organize? Why did I get things? This is not our room, it is hers. So I wonder why I am here. Why am I here to have nothing that can be mine? At every level of my life, there is interference - this room was my one sanctuary, the one place I felt like I could have things that would not be scrutinized by her, but as soon as I am gone, she comes in here, and does not just clean, but moves all of my belongings around, thus all of them being exposed to her. It is like there is no privacy. Part of me regrets ever leaving, because I feel like I should have been here to guard my room, to keep it safe for me, to have it be what I needed it to be. Now I can have no illusions that here I am safe from her power. Here, just like every other room in the house, is under her control, under her power, and she will not respect my property, my space, because in her eyes, I don't have any.

I guess I just wish she would have asked me if it was okay, to respect me and my stuff. I might have still been annoyed, but then I would have felt at least that she respected me to some degree. It just threw in my face the fact that she has little respect for me. Just five more months to go. I'll just have to get out of the house all the time now, because not even my room is safe.

It is just like - I look over at my bookcase, and I die a little inside seeing my books be not the way I organized them. It is like I went through the work of putting my room together in vain. And then I turn my head and there are the desk shelves, with the speakers not on the shelf I left them on, and a box full of my sewing stuff that was mainly put away. And she wonders why I leave stuff in my car. To protect it from her.

As I was driving home from the airport, I envisioned writing a very different entry. Just his dad and him came to pick me up, and I felt so at ease with his dad there. Like I never want Janardan and I to talk openly in front of his parents, but with just his dad there, I felt fine, and was talking freely. I missed Janardan a lot, and there was a lot of drama with airplanes, so I ended up getting in 5 hours later than I was supposed to -- at 2am. And sitting there as I rode home, talking to Janardan, with his dad there to listen or not as he drove us, I just felt good. Then as soon as I got home, I just felt like...interfered with. Like I didn't take a vacation - I moved out. It was like popping my balloon of happiness for being in Texas. But I was still happy to go to sleep in the arms of my husband.