Checking In
I am FINALLY moved into my sweet home. I won’t lie to you – this week has been a roller coaster.
When I started carting things from the old house to the new, I cried quite a bit. I never wanted this marriage to be over. I never wanted to separate so completely, so materially. But I am glad I am the one moving from the marital home. I felt like a stranger there. I felt out of place.
Feeling like a stranger in our marital home was the tough. Why would I feel like this in a home I created with items I loved? Throughout our married life, Will let me decorate the house as I wished. He even let me paint colors on the walls after we moved here in 2003. He never complained about my choice of curtains, rugs, towels, etc. I furnished the house pretty much as I chose.
When I moved out this week, I got to thinking about why I chose the items I was moving. Some things I didn’t want to take but felt that I needed to take “for now”. I struggled with leaving three things:
1. A print I had framed called “La Belle Dame Sans Merci”. I left it because I purchased it while he was deployed last time. The knight in the picture actually looks like Will; I had so wanted him to come home and rescue me from the pain I felt. I so wanted him to come home and be the knight in shining armor. It was an unrealistic expectation, and not one I ever want to repeat. I don’t want to ever think another person can rescue me.
2. A print by Klimt called “The Kiss”. This is another image that I hoped would represent my relationship. Longing for that kind of love, from Will, … it’s a wish, but my heart has no more room for wishes.
3. A family picture taken on the day he returned from the deployment. It’s a snapshot, really, but it is the last picture taken of us as a family. We’re smiling, I have my arm across his shoulder. Again, I was hopeful; I didn’t know what was to come. I wrestled with leaving the picture – I mean, we are our boys’ family. That won’t change. But I couldn’t bring it here. It’s too painful to know that those four people, that family, was about to be torn apart. I couldn’t take it, I couldn’t bring it here.
And now I’m crying again. My heart is broken, my life is new and uncertain. But I am not afraid. I don’t know HOW my life will straighten itself, I only know that it will.
“Things” between Will and I are okay. We’re both fighting for the same things, but against each other. And yet, there is a kind of peace in it. He inspects and plugs my tires, tells me he hopes I find a job that I love (and I believe him). He is going through a similar hell…but separate from my own. I see peace in our future, working to co-parent two wonderful young men.
On Monday, I’m going to social services to see if I qualify for food stamps. If they don’t keep me waiting all day, I’ll then go to a place a friend told me about to apply for work. When I get this new house livable, I will write more often and tell you what I’ve been doing in addition to moving piecemeal, bit by bit in a car.
Until then, if you think of me, think of me optimistically. I truly know in my heart and mind that I will be okay. So many things that once mattered do not, so many things that never mattered now do. I’ll be sorting through it all as I go about setting up my new life.
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May 17th, 2010 at 8:21 AM
I think you made some healthy and thoughtful decisions about what you want to take with you to your new home. The first picture you have is one I have as well. Interesting how much our hopes and dreams get tied in with the objects we surround ourselves with. While I stay for \our\ home for now, I’ve creasted a space that is brand new. A room I can go to and be free of any of the painful \us\ memories. It helps. Sending love and prayers your way for your journey. Best wishes!
May 18th, 2010 at 10:36 AM
This is what I always tell my students when they first graduate and move on to jobs and their first apartments: It’s the best scary and unsettled you will ever feel. It’s full of hope, challenge, and the unknown. Breathe it in, allow yourself to feel it, then let it go. Opportunity is just that; an opportunity and not a promise. You need to feel the scary to appreciate feeling good.
I told myself this not long ago and it is still true. It’s not just for the new college graduates who usually receive it. But you know what, I feel the same promise and excitement as those kids. It doesn’t take away the hurt and sadness, rather it allows me to accept them, feel them, and then let them go.
Look at the new house as the place where your life changes and begins again. Different, but just as good…if not better. Who needs a knight in shining armor when you have YOU?
May 23rd, 2010 at 7:43 AM
This is your “Transition Zone,” a place where you will find memories from the past, unsureness in the present and questions for the future. It’s also a place that will always feel happy and scary at the same time because it’s a crossroad. It’s okay…know that this too will pass. I applaud your strength to make the difficult choices you made.