Exiled
Work has started on my room, in hopes of removing the mold for good. Or at least that’s what dad and the workman hope, I don’t. I don’t because the entire original plan was to strip the walls bare, down to the concrete, then apply an anti-mold substance and then repaint. It didn’t address what generated the mold in the first place and therefore would have been rather useless overall, especially since mold doesn’t appear on walls alone.
Then, after surveying the “damage”, the workman said the walls and ceiling should be covered with polystyrene slabs for insulation. He’s thinking the moisture is seeping in through the walls, ignoring the obvious cause. I was firmly against the idea from the beginning, partly because I have issues with being around polystyrene, sort of a mental allergy, for lack of a better term, not to mention that I don’t want my room to get smaller and I’m not sure how well the work that’d be done on top of the slabs could handle weight in case I’ll ever want to have some shelves hung on the walls or any other such things, since I don’t see how I’ll ever manage to get out of here again. But, as usual, I was ignored by everyone and yesterday when the work was about to start I noticed the slabs being carried in.
My reaction was to say there’s no way that’s going into my room and stand there glaring and not letting anybody past me for about ten minutes, then storming away and slamming the door behind me. Somehow that appears to have worked, because a few hours later dad said they don’t have to go into my room if I don’t want it, he can use them in other places if I’m so determined, but we should see what the workman says too. So we finally discussed the issue, the workman also chipped away at the walls for a while and said the mold only got all the way down to the concrete on the outer wall, so that’s the only one that will be covered in the end. But they didn’t get to checking the ceiling yet, they might want to cover that too, depending how how affected it is. I still say such insulation should be done on the outside, but I guess if it’ll be done just for the outer wall I can live with it. If it’ll be done well that is, which I doubt…
On the other hand, everybody’s been ignoring me so far on the other issues as well. I’ve only been living in that room and breathing in the spores for a year and a half since the mold appeared, what do I know about how bad it is, right? I was saying the carpet, desk and bed are likely ruined, not to mention the mattress and pillows, plus that somebody should really check out the floor as well. I kept getting told that’s not an issue until things got moved around and they took a look at them. One side of the desk looks pretty moldy, the bed, bookcase and pillows are questionable and the carpet and mattress are ruined. Now I’m also wondering about my blanket. They’re still not looking at the floor. Of course this messed up all the budget since dad insisted on ignoring me when I’ve been saying those couldn’t be kept, no idea how it’s going to get worked out. The desk shouldn’t be a problem, but I wonder if I’ll get back in my room and end up sleeping on the floor for quite a while…
Still, this seems to have finally made him to listen to me a little and he agreed to another little plan of mine, a small change that would actually have a small impact on the real cause of the mold instead of just treating the effects, since that’s all his plan was doing. But since he has been ignoring it so far, it’ll take time to get around to it now and that will leave me hanging for at least a few more days after the work on the walls will be done.
Anyway, I’ve been exiled to the creature’s room while the work is being done in mine. She was supposed to go to her parents during this time but I guess something changed at the last moment because she’s still here, sleeping in the living room with dad. Yeah, they’ve been sleeping in separate rooms for several years.
I hate being in this room, not only because it’s not mine but also because it’s hers and because, with all my furniture except the bed temporarily crammed in here as well, I barely have about one square meter to move around in. I have to squeeze along in front of the wardrobe in order to get to my chair at the desk. Actually, I can also hop on the bed first, then push the part of the desk the keyboard and mouse are on back in, get to the chair from that side and then pull the keyboard and mouse back out. I certainly need to go over the bed to get to the window or nightstand and I’m lucky to be as thin as I am because even so I can barely manage to squeeze in between the corner of the desk and the wardrobe to get to what I turned into a little storage space in here. I think I’ll end up with some scratches from that either way. I have just enough space in between the chair, wardrobe, bed and shelves to sit down and (attempt to) meditate, as I’ve been doing daily for the past three and a half years, but if I try to move my hands I hit something.
Speaking of meditation, that’s challenging enough on a regular basis due to my mood, but now it seems next to impossible. Even more stressed than usual, different place, not enough room and all the banging coming from my room from morning to late evening. And banging all day long means I hardly get any sleep, knowing that I’m a night owl and only go to bed in the morning. But I was expecting that even without the noise since it’s a different room. I’m actually very surprised I got nearly five hours of sleep last night (or this morning, if you want to be specific). Probably thanks to hugging the bear tightly all through that time…
But the worst part is the loss… There were memories in that room, in those pieces of furniture, in those walls… Now it will all be gone. Even if everything would be replaced with things that look exactly the same, not that such a thing is going to happen, they still wouldn’t be the same things. Of course the memories are in my mind and soul, but I desperately need to connect them to something I can see and touch… Now that’s all gone forever…
As always, never think you’re at rock bottom, because things always get worse. Never better, only worse, with no way out and not even the hope of release left. And it’s all my fault…
