After more than a month, it sometime feels like something that just is. But not always. Being in the temporary apartment keeps us from buying any furniture larger than a desk chair, for instance, because there's nowhere to put it and we'd just have to move it when the condo is ready.
I did rescue the single nice piece of furniture we'd bought, a vintage vanity and matching seat, because it was in the bedroom that didn't burn. It's living at our friends' place where we stayed after the fire and who were kind enough to let me leave it there. I think the seat may need to be reupholstered, but hopefully the smoke smell will come out of the wooden vanity over time?
I wonder, sometimes, whether it's going to be hard for me to live there again. Even whether I'll actually be able to. Right now, even driving back on that road to check the mail is really hard. On a couple of my drives back last month to get things, I came close to stopping and turning around. I drive a slightly roundabout route to get there so I'm not on the same road I was on when I pulled over to let the emergency vehicles by that I soon found out were going to the condo.
The way the inside looked, with a blackened pile of springs that was the couch, and black walls and ceilings with holes in them, and debris all over the floor...and I had to keep going back in to look for things and salvage what we could, and try to inventory what was left. I think that part of the aftermath was traumatizing me even more as I did it, in ways I didn't quite realize. The idea of going inside again is so painful right now.
I talked about that in therapy today!
And the smell of the inside: I can't even find the words. Smells get so embedded into memories and feelings. I've said it elsewhere, but I honestly don't know if I will ever be able to smell a wood fire again without fear and sadness.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-10-14 06:09 am (UTC)I did rescue the single nice piece of furniture we'd bought, a vintage vanity and matching seat, because it was in the bedroom that didn't burn. It's living at our friends' place where we stayed after the fire and who were kind enough to let me leave it there. I think the seat may need to be reupholstered, but hopefully the smoke smell will come out of the wooden vanity over time?
I wonder, sometimes, whether it's going to be hard for me to live there again. Even whether I'll actually be able to. Right now, even driving back on that road to check the mail is really hard. On a couple of my drives back last month to get things, I came close to stopping and turning around. I drive a slightly roundabout route to get there so I'm not on the same road I was on when I pulled over to let the emergency vehicles by that I soon found out were going to the condo.
The way the inside looked, with a blackened pile of springs that was the couch, and black walls and ceilings with holes in them, and debris all over the floor...and I had to keep going back in to look for things and salvage what we could, and try to inventory what was left. I think that part of the aftermath was traumatizing me even more as I did it, in ways I didn't quite realize. The idea of going inside again is so painful right now.
I talked about that in therapy today!
And the smell of the inside: I can't even find the words. Smells get so embedded into memories and feelings. I've said it elsewhere, but I honestly don't know if I will ever be able to smell a wood fire again without fear and sadness.