Geesh! This sounds like the makings of a sappy country music song. My mom cried under the hot Georgia sun as she and my dad said goodbye to their newlywed daughter and son-in-law. We shared a divided double-wide trailer with three other couples.
That’s right, we were living in 1/4 of a double-wide trailer. We were in a private college “married housing unit.” This first home of ours squeezed living, dining, kitchen, bath, and bedrooms into less than five hundred square feet. That’s one way to grow closer in a hurry!
Living off of Love
So, yeh. We were jobless full-time college students living off of love. Fun times. They were good times, mostly. Being stuffed in our minuscule living space forced many creative solutions. There were no drawers for silverware, cutlery, and kitchen gadgets. We had one teeny weeny closet in the bedroom to share. But there were plusses. I mean, where else can you wash dishes at the kitchen sink, feel the need to go, take three steps backward and be in front of the toilet? All kidding aside, that little home holds some of our fondest memories.
My Setback
Shortly before this time, some unexpected events occurred in my life. Sitting in class, taking an algebra exam (YUCK!) I almost collapsed. It felt as though someone poured a pan of hot water over my head. Heat surged down my shoulders, into my arms, pooling in my fingertips. My hips, legs, and feet were numb. I tried to cry out for help but my tongue was inoperable and my lips were too weak to form words. Was I having a seizure, a stroke, a heart attack? By God’s grace, I mustered enough strength to force my legs upright. Walking on pins and needles, trembling, my body threatening to topple over with each step, I reached the professor’s podium. My mouth opened and with slurred and breathless speech I gasped, “I need to see the nurse.”
Seeking Help
Seeing my obvious distress, the concerned teacher flagged a student aid to walk me to the nurse. I leaned on my chaperone just knowing I would not make it through the door without being sick or passing out. Once we made it to the muggy outside air, I was able to take in a full breath for the first time in what seemed to be hours.
Sitting on the college nurse’s examination table, trembling uncontrollably, I was still unable to form an intelligible sentence. She phoned for my husband (fiance at the time) to come down from his dorm. He tried to calm me, neither of us knowing what was going on in my body. With strong capable arms, he carried me to the nurse’s car, gently and tenderly placing me in the seat while buckling me in.
After rushing to the emergency department, a series of pokes, prods, and scans began. A strangely thick cocktail of cold fuschia liquid followed by hard long white pills slid down my throat. The world stood still, tilted a bit, realigned, then returned to its normal rotation. Feeling returned to my legs and feet. My prince’s gorgeous sky-blue eyes came back into focus. Normal breathing resumed. I could speak. I had made it through whatever this horrifying ordeal was!
Becoming a Human Guinea Pig
A couple of weeks of bed rest, compliments of prescribed sedatives, made way for a battery of tests. Brain impairment from a blood clot or stroke was a real concern. A brain scan with icy metal probes straight out of a science fiction movie ruled both of these out. My brain was there and as normal as it had ever been. Whatever that means…lol.
Medical staff suggested the issue originated from my gut…”Strange, but whatever you say, doctors.” I fasted then slurped down the most disgusting, sweet, chilled, gritty, slime, while technicians watched it fall then swirl and twirl through my stomach and intestines. In addition to this, I swallowed a liquid resembling warm sparkling water on steroids. It burnt all the way down and puffed my belly out like a blowfish nearing explosion. All this cleared my stomach of any major concerns. So, what the heck had happened to me?
My Diagnosis
Moreover, they concluded I had suffered a major panic attack that day. Why did this surprise me? I always hated math. 🙂 Actually, the root went much deeper than my detest of all things quadratic. I had a chemical imbalance with severe panic disorder. This wasn’t a fluke event. To tell the truth, this is a lifetime struggle unless God elects to heal me.
Alone and Depressed
In all honesty, missing so much school for medical reasons kind of wiped me for the semester. In addition, learning how to function with this new diagnosis and all the symptoms that come with it kind of wiped out my college career. I was, to put it lightly, pretty bummed.
Back to the sad country song for a moment…I was alone in our one-quarter share of a double-wide trailer. Dirty dishes were stacked high in the sink. I had zero motivation to do anything. I saw people outside my window but didn’t want to speak to them. My husband was still going to school full-time while working part-time as a custodian at a retirement home. Consumed by self-pity, confused by my chemical imbalance, and frustrated by my indifference, I counted his absence as another blow. Looking back, my husband is the glue that kept us, and me, from falling apart. I honestly can’t tell you what I did alone in our home all day every day. I simply can’t remember. Perhaps I stared at walls, slept, or sat glazy-eyed in front of a square talking picture box. What I do remember is waking up.
Coming Back to Life
A friend came and helped me catch up on dishes. God love her heart; she was an angel to help with that mess. With the soiled clutter gone, I could see my tiny strip of a kitchenette. As a result, I found myself wondering how to make it all work better for us. I eventually didn’t see the size of the home, but the potential. We were young and broke, but I was home all the time and thrived on creativity.
Creating A New Life
My real turning point was when I stopped thinking about all that I didn’t have, by focusing on what was available to me. I had a computer, paper, and a printer with some ink in it. The walls would look a little taller if something were at the top to draw your eyes up there. I began designing and printing a simple border. Sheet after sheet, I taped the design together until I had enough to surround our living/dining area.
I painted the border to match a quilt we were given as a wedding gift. Using a chair as a ladder, I stuck that border to the top of the walls with tape folded over on itself. I gathered a handful of thumbtacks and stuck the matching quilt to the wall behind our dining area table. My husband came home and was happy. Of course, he was happy the dirty dishes were gone, but he saw the joy in my eyes, which made him happy.
Enjoying Life Again
I kept going and going in that little home. I discovered decorating shows on our free (not sure how that happened lol) cable tv. Christopher Lowell became my best television friend. We loved the way our home looked and felt. I was proud of what I had done without spending a penny. Slowly, we began inviting a friend or two over. Soon, my husband’s gaming buddies sat on the small white wicker lawn furniture serving as our couch, loveseat, and chair.
A Show Home from 1/4 of a Double Wide Trailer
My husband often mentions how much he liked our cozy little first home. “It was nice,” he will say. I can’t tell you how much this warms my heart. I never stopped working on that splinter of real estate. When we were moving out, I walked around with white toothpaste filling in all the tiny pushpin holes from my makeshift home decor. It works by the way! Sets up as hard as spackle. At move-out inspection, maintenance mentioned how they had never seen a cleaner, more well kept home. One worker even asked if he could bring his wife to see all I had done before we took it down. He told me he never knew one of those tiny units could look so good!
Thriving Despite Setbacks
So, there you have it. It all started in 1/4 of a doublewide trailer. But it didn’t stop there. Sure, I went on to study skincare formulation. (More math. WHAT!!!?) I even developed an organic skincare line sold in shops, salons, and online. But I never stopped making the home I want to live in using the things I have. Now, I want to inspire you to do the same. Don’t allow your limitations to keep you from creating the life and home you want. Whether you are living off love or have an entire account dedicated to home improvement, you can achieve your dream home.
Let’s CREATE the Life We Want
In conclusion, I’m here to inspire you and lead the way. While I can’t come to your house and help you empty that never-ending sink of dirty dishes. I hope I can give you a nudge to wake you up. You are more than your bank account. You are more than your diagnosis, symptoms, schedule, failures, mistakes, lost hopes, and dreams. We don’t have to drown in self-disappointment. We can do more than barely keep our heads above the water. Let’s dive in and make things happen together. Until next time, just keep swimming.
~Lora Lea
