When I was married, we had 2000 SF house. It was a starter house for us. Our goal was to have kids and move into a quieter neighborhood, but we wanted to get ourselves established for a few years first.
When I divorced 8 years ago I bought my current house, which is less than 1,000 SF. It was a stepping stone, you see. I was going to be remarried in a few years, and then my husband and I would find a better home together. After a few years and I had no good prospects, I began some home improvement projects. They were mainly to help the value of my home so that when Mr. Right came along I could sell the house easily. I ran out of money and patience. My dad became weak and is no longer able to provide the muscle that I need to finish some of the work. But Mr. Right would help me one day. And until then, I let things just…….sit.
My hysterectomy was a jolt of lightening. It changed everything. If I couldn’t have kids, what did I want for myself? I had lived the past 8 years in anticipation of a great change. Correction: I had existed in anticipation of a great change, because I didn’t really LIVE. And the hysterectomy was a wake-up call: I will never bare my own children, so what if I never marry again? What legacy will I have left if I continue at this pace?
Last night, as I was rearranging things, throwing out old books and memories, cutting off the unnecessary pieces of my past that I had been clinging to, I realized I had forgotten how to live. It took 3 years to recover emotionally from my divorce, and by then, I didn’t know how to live anymore. I treated my home the way I treated myself—with neglect and disrespect.
And so, I have been clearing out stuff. I’ve been working to get my house to reflect this person that I am now. It will take time and a lot of patience. I pray I am able to keep the momentum.
This isn’t another rambling about my divorce that happened forever ago. It’s actually a positive thing that my hysterectomy brought my way . . . .
