How to survive the unsurvivable like being without a home

Rising waters just claimed every bit of who I am.

Street graffiti my photo

Flooding Waters Took It All

The smell is what hits you first when your flooded home is visited. It needed to be abandoned or else you’d be floating with all your stuff currently. The stench is repulsive and disguising stagnant water mixed with the black flow of your own toilets. Because water has to go somewhere and it’ll just back flow in a flooding situation.

I made five trips through waist deep, disgusting water to save things I needed. And to get supplies to survive at this vacant, second floor apartment that I’m sharing with a family of five.

It’s so surreal watching your entire life sink and float around your peripheral vision. I bend down on the floor, still soaked with water you don’t even want to know what’s in it.

I bend down and see three photo albums floating in this shit water.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

A younger me smiles up from the photo albums. It’s me and my Dad together when I was little. I flip through and there’s others I don’t want to lose. They are all sopping wet, but covered in plastic because they’re in this album.

I hope they are salvageable. Memories encapsulated in time that I can never repeat again. Photos have always meant more to me than the newest electronic, or the newest car. They are imprisoned moments that I can reflect upon.

So much is gone. My life is literally floating and drenched. I don’t have a home right now. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing.

I called up Renter’s Insurance. And they won’t cover shit since I don’t have flood insurance specifically. You gotta be for fuck kidding me?

This Has No End Right Now

This isn’t an inspirational post to say this taught me the things that matter in life. Though in an inadvertent, fucked up way, it has. I will rebuild. I will survive. But right now I don’t want to face all those drowning memories.

I don’t have a home, it’s submerged within dirty, overflowing water that claimed every piece of my life. I don’t know how to recover from this, only that I must in the end. My home right now is an apartment that is being shared with another family. I have a bedroom with scattered remains of my life that I was able to take with me.

No bed, my bed is a makeshift corner that has sheets stacked up. Because even sleeping on carpet just makes your body ache. I just hope for the power to keep going because that helps in keeping my breaking sanity in tact.

I don’t know how to restart. Only that I’m going to have to.


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