After two weeks living in my new place, my new city, my new life, I am feeling at peace most of the time. The anguish of living in "our" house has lifted. My new life matches the new me a little better.
I'm meeting wonderful new people and finding new ways to heal. I've been sleeping through the night more often, a reflection of the peace I've been able to create for myself here.
Every time I think of the pain I felt while making the decision to sell the house and the actual moving process, I feel my mind shut down a little. I think that is its protective way of allowing me to forget just how bad that pain was. I remember it being painful but I don't remember exactly how that pain felt, viscerally. Thank god.
I am learning more than ever that we make of a situation what we want to. We manifest so much by the mindset we take on and that it is within our control to find the good in the bad.
But I can read about how I felt during this heart-wrenching time. I found a draft of a post I was going to work on and then publish but forgot about in the chaos of the move. I must have written it about four weeks ago. Reading it now is a good reminder of how sometimes my mind can be so convincing. It's in my power to make it convince me of good, instead of bad. Thankfully, during the pain, I held on to what, somewhere deep within me, I knew was right for me even though I was scared down to my bones.
Because now I'm where I need to be. As hard as it was. As much as it hurt and as much as I risked, I trusted in myself and I'm glad I did.
Here's the entry I wrote:
I've uncovered a new level of my feelings about selling the house. There was an offer. A good offer. And I accepted. Getting an offer I wanted on a house that's been on the market for one month is not something I think I can pass up. It's just that now I have a month to clear out. Eleven years' worth of a life, Dave's life and my life, to sift through and somehow put in two categories. Keep or let go of.
I've had to let go of so much already. I'm so tired of letting go.
But, I can't back out now. I have to confront this. I have to let go. Letting go is the lesson I have to learn. Over and over.
One of the things I've been feeling recently, that I was just able to identify, is how sorry I am that I'm letting go of our house. I feel like I'm letting Dave down. That house was our pride and joy. It was filled with love and light and comfort. And he helped to make it that way and now I'm giving it up to someone else. Am I giving up on it? I feel like apologizing to Dave.
I know that I'll carry his love, our love, in me no matter where I go. I know that the house is just stuff. Sticks, bricks, siding, furniture, not our actual beings or our actual love.
But when I let the feelings come, that's what surfaces. I feel sorry. I feel like I've let Dave down. I feel like I'm giving up something too wonderful to ever find again. I guess I'm worried I'll never have that peace again. And the house is just the physical representation of that.
Nothing changes the fact that a BIG house on 12 acres is not something I want to try to deal with on my own. That kind of isolation might be great for someone who is settled, but I'm just no longer settled. I'm finding my way in a whole new life. I have to let go. I am not married anymore. Accepting that is heart breaking.
There have been several moments since I've moved out that have made me imagine Dave rooting for me proudly. I can just see him pumping his fist in the air and yelling, "THAT'S what you're capable of! I KNEW it!"
I think he'd respond to those words I wrote in a dark time, "Don't be sorry. Don't you dare. You did what you needed to do and I'm so proud of you".
So I'm not sorry. I didn't let him down. I didn't let us down. I make him proud and, even more importantly, I make myself proud.