I had this weird moment just now that I wanted to document. I was writing a little paragraph or two about this time when I was a kid and had a tantrum about leaving a stuffed fox in a store. I wanted to buy it and take it home and my mother said no.

But it wasn't the usual tantrum of "I want it, and I didn't get it." I was crying and upset because I felt bad for the fox. I felt like it would feel abandoned if we left it there. Like it would watch me go with its big black eyes and think "why did she leave? why did she leave without me?" and then it would cry big fat foxy tears and pine for me.

I couldn't bear the thought.

I'm still like that. In lots of ways. I give inanimate things personalities. I almost never name anything, but they are real to me and always will be and it breaks my heart to mishandle any of them.

Point: I was thinking about that incident and I realized why it hurt me so much to leave it, and why to this day the things that hurt me do hurt me.

I have a serious problem with abandonment. I can't abandon anyone else, and I am devastated when I am abandoned. This is probably the root of why I have such a hard time getting over being dumped or mistreated. I can't get over it, it takes forever, and I stew and pine and ache.

And this is why I never walk away from people, even though they're hurting me immeasurably. I can't abandon them.

And I'm nearly 30. This is now ingrained. I don't know how to break that habit.

My house is nearly put together. I'll take photos when it's done.

Promise! :)