I thought that while Mom is in Florida I would revel in having the house to myself for almost 6 months but it’s actually quite the opposite. I’m sad and bored. In addition, I’m embarrassed to admit it. I miss my Mom. We have been getting on each other’s nerves lately, her fastidious nature about keeping her admittedly beautiful house spotless and clutter-free has led to some bickering. It was never a serious problem. We have an amazing relationship and I love her dearly. It’s my problem. I know it comes down to my persistent (and somewhat silly) sense of shame at living with my Mom at my age because my poor decision-making and illness have led me to this position of being poor and unable to have my own place. It leads to pushback because when she gets on me, despite her right to do so, it only serves as a reminder that I am a 57-year-old man living with his mother. In my book that equals LOSER. When you factor in my guilt over feeling that way when it is painfully clear that she saved me from homelessness by taking me in when I knocked on her door 7 years ago with a Honda Civic full of everything I owned, it is entirely unacceptable to me that I could hold any negative thoughts towards the wonderful woman who has never been anything but great to me. If that isn’t enough, I’m dealing with a lot of internal strife right now. My work with severely damaged individuals in exchange for a paycheck has sent me down a road to self-discovery. These broken people have actually inspired me to make changes in myself. If you have ever read me, you know that I am not afraid to make changes if it leads to growth, but I’m dealing with some powerful shit right now and it sucks that I’m alone as it is occurring. I suppose it doesn’t help that I have very few friends within 100 miles, I am without female companionship (by choice I’m afraid) while still craving the intimacy of an adult relationship, and it is colder than a Canadian Lumberjack’s nut sack outside. I can’t believe that I’d rather be at work than alone at home.