Back to where I grew up...

I was 21 years old (I think...) or 22 when I moved out of my mom's house and into a little townhome in Costa Mesa thinking I was marrying the man of my dreams and starting a life together. May of 2004 I left that life, and moved with my roomie into our adorable little bungalow on the other side of Costa Mesa. Last weekend I moved back to Orange into my old bedroom in my old house with my mom.
Lib - my best friend for years and years - the gal I used to get in trouble with, the gal who went to Hell and back with me, the gal who used to live right around the corner from me - came by with her beautiful daughter. She sat in my room with me looking around at the boxes and mess and laughed. "This is fucking weird man!" she says. Mom stands in the doorway chuckling. "Remember all the heavy metal posters that covered my wall?" I said as I made silly faces to the little one. "I think I had more Poison ones, but you were the Motley Crue fantatic" Lib said laughing again. Right then the flood of memories came back. My bad years, my black years, the years of a strung out teenager. I looked around the room remembering the black decor, the posters EVERYWHERE, the drum set, everything. I look around now and its the reminants of my grown up life crammed into my little bedroom I grew up in.
Monday morning I took a walk. I wandered the streets I used to walk as a kid. Passed my old elementary school, past the area (not sure which house it was) that me and this gal named Belami would go after school and her mom would make us snacks, past the house where my girl scout leader lived, past the house my friend Jeff lived in whose house we'd toliet paper numerous times - even the bush I dove in to hide from the cops one nite is still there. I passed the street my dear friend Robin lived on, then past the house where the other Robin lived - I stared at the window we used to climb out of to hang out with our boyfriends. I passed Tim's house - we used to play and our families were friends and he got into trouble and I never knew what happened to him. Then I passed Ronnie's house, the boy I always had a crush on, who used to walk me home and his mom had boy scout meetings that my brother would go to and I would tag along. I passed the "Candyman's" house - the poor old man who was rumored to give poison candy to kids, past the house Ronnie and I swear was haunted. Then as I walked back up Walnut looking towards my street - remembering looking down this street so many years of my childhood life - when I was little, when I was sneaking home, when I was sad, when I was excited. Glancing down the street where Lib lived, and all the boys we used to get in trouble with - it looks so different.
I'm now trying to find all the places I'll need around here since its changed so much. Where's the sushi restaurants, the liquor stores, the grocery stores, Target, BevMo, Petco. Trying to get my bearings back. Trying to reajust to living in Orange.
People take for granted how used to you get to a city. You learn all the hot spots, the local hangouts, the good bars, the mom and pop places. Then you come back and its all different. I knew Costa Mesa so well, I used to know Orange so well. Now its all new.
This transition is hard. Its not my home anymore. My girls still wont venture out of the bedroom due to fear of Smokie (Mom's harmless, deaf pug who snorts). I dont know where anything is. Its strange. I'm scared. The effects of unemployment are hitting. Yes, I have time now to do all my creative things - especially since finding a job is nearly impossible right now - but its hard. I dont feel like myself. I feel lost. I know its only day 3 of being here by myself, but you know me...I get antsy fast.
Its weird folks. Fucking weird.