Searching for Home

In my first few blogs I have spoken about my job search nightmare and how difficult it has been. In this blog, I would like to turn it around a bit and talk about how I came back to The Cruz that I so love.

After leaving Santa Cruz in 2010, I moved to San Francisco to work, but also to live. I had wanted to live in San Francisco my whole life and am so grateful that I had the opportunity to do so. It is a fabulous City with an abundance of everything. It is also very expensive, parking is a bitch and it never really gets dark. There is a glow that begins many miles before the City starts and reaches beyond where it ends. I also lived on a bus line so it also never got quiet. I realized how much I missed living in Santa Cruz and so for the third time in my life, I gravitated back to the place that has always held a special place in my heart.

The journey back was not as easily achieved as before: 2012 was an especially hard year for me in general. The business that I had co-owned had not survived, but also because my long marriage had ended, I lost both of my parents sixteen days apart and I had also become an empty nester. Every relationship that defined me had radically changed: to say that things were difficult for me was an understatement.

I had to make some decisions about how to live. Coming back to Santa Cruz seemed like the easy thing to decide. The bigger question was HOW would I live? I had lived in nuclear family situations pretty much my whole life. Did I want to try living alone now?  Or, did I want to live with other adults—adults I wasn’t related to?

I decided to give living with others a try. I earnestly began my search, where everyone searches for everything, on Craig’s List. Because I have been lucky in my relationships, I did not foresee the complications a single woman would face when looking for a shared living situation.  I admit that it was probably careless of me to go into situations where I would be facing men alone, without bringing a friend who could serve as a body guard. But I have always taken care of myself and it saddens me that we live in a world where fear is the only sensible attitude a single woman can adopt when meeting new people. It also makes me angry.

My first bad encounter was with a single gentleman. My first clue that something was off came when he mentioned that he had died three times recently and began to elaborate on the experiences. He said he had literally flat lined and Neptune Society had been informed. I couldn’t really think of a comeback remark, and the conversation went downhill from there I politely said that I had to leave but would call him. I called the next day and said I would not be taking the room. but thanked him. He was disappointed and said he had told people all about me and that he was extremely dismayed. Also that he had many connections and could undoubtedly hook me up with employment and to please call him back. The next bad turn came when I went to another man’s house and at first it seemed fairly innocent until he told me that we could probably become domestic partners soon and that he had listed a Craigs list ad himself throughout the U.S., inviting any single women who wanted a place to go for Thanksgiving to join “us”. Obviously, I declined this offer as well. He wrote me and said he was going to place a CL ad telling people not to rent to me. That I was not to be taken at my word and then he laughed. His next response was “I never even got to meet your cats and you promised”. The third episode that stands out was another single guy who greeted me at the door and brought me into a filthy home. There were dog feces everywhere and the place was unlit, curtains closed and something just felt wrong. This time when I said thank you, I’ll let you know, he said nothing. I got up from the couch to leave and when I tried to open the door, it was locked from the inside. I began to struggle with the lock and I’m sure my fear was palpable. I continued to yank on the door and even though I didn’t hear him get up, I knew he had as I could feel his breath on my neck. I slowly turned around to see him there with a very twisted smile on his face. I finally got the door open and ran to my car. I was shaking so badly I could barely unlock my car. Driving down Zayante Road felt like heaven.

 I could not visit one more ad, so I wrote my own about what I was looking for in a collective living situation. I had a few responses but one that stuck out. The woman who responded said they may have a room opening soon and to write a little about myself. I happily did this and we arranged a meeting. I walked through the door of this home and immediately felt safe, but also like I had found a home. One where I felt comfortable and I could feel the harmony of the place. This is where I found home.

The people I live with are more like a family to me now then mere roommates. This collective group includes two other women, a man and occasionally two adult children. One of them comes home for college breaks and the other is a student, ready to graduate from H.S. soon but very independent.

We eat meals together when schedules allow, socialize with stimulating conversation and we are bonded. These people have taken me under their wing and in the face of my imminent unemployment and my grief, I feel like I have known them forever.

Ironically, I was walking to a movie with two of my roommates one evening early after I moved in. My male roommate heard my last name and asked me how my mother and brother were. Time stopped at that moment. It turns out; this man lived for a time in my family home when I was 12 yrs. old. Was this a matter of fate, intervention or predestined luck? Another woman in my home has taught me new skills to add to my current ones and is truly like a sister. The two boys are social, smart and interesting. They do not act like it is a pain to be around adults; rather interact with the rest of this amazing group. The last woman is someone who I feel like I have known forever. She has literally changed my life. She is one of the smartest people I have ever known. She is a proficient and fabulous lifelong writer, retired UC Professor and an Angel.

I’m still unsure of whether I will be able to continue to afford to live where I am. I worry about things like where I will sleep at night. I would be so afraid to sleep at a shelter that I wonder whether I could imbibe enough caffeine and stay on the streets awake all night. I also wonder where I would shower. Job hunting is tough in itself, let alone not being able to have a neat and clean appearance. I also worry about what would happen to my cats. They have been the one constant thing that hasn’t changed for me. On some nights, lying next to them, feeling their little beating hearts is the one thing that lets me fall asleep. I even feel like I would cut back on my food intake if I have to at times, in order to be able to buy food for them. Crazy, right?

On days when I am paralyzed by fear and literally melted down, I remain grateful for the amazing gift of home these last six months have allowed me and I remain eternally optimistic for the future.