6 years ago today I got married, which is odd to think about. It’s odd for many reasons: Odd to see how quickly 6 years can fly by, odd to think that I, of my own free will and choice got married in January–the WORST MONTH OF THE YEAR. It’s odd to think that I thought blonde hair was a good choice for my wedding pictures. (Note to self: Next time you are going to participate in an activity where lots of photos will be taken, maybe go back to your natural hair color.)
But the main reason it feels so odd is because…I don’t really feel anything about it. My first anniversary after the divorce was rough, and I assumed they would be rough for years to come. But this is my third anniversary since the divorce, and I’m feeling happy. Does that mean I’m heartless or something? I don’t think so. I think I’ve just learned what I needed to learn, and decided to move on. I can be thankful for the things I gained from my marriage, and leave the rest where it needs to be.
I’m in the literal process of moving right now, because I’m buying my first house! More on that later, but this pretty much sums up my feelings:
Anyway, as we all know, moving is THE BEST! *sarcasm* And you know what makes moving REALLY fun? Moving out when you’re splitting up with your husband. GAH. That was rough. I was trying to be as fast as possible, splitting up our stuff while trying to keep my emotions in check. And then there was the apartment hunt. There’s something very depressing about thinking you’re past the roommate stage, and then finding that the only places you can afford on your own are sheds in the back of someone’s yard, with ceilings that are barely above your head, and walls that are most likely held together by black mold, meth residue, and mouse droppings. It was incredibly depressing.
And then, one day, I found this amazing apartment that I COULD AFFORD!! It was sunny and lovely with tall ceilings, PLUS a tub and a washer and dryer. I went to see it at the same time another guy was looking. He kept mentioning things about how long he’d been looking for a place just like this, and how badly he needed it. And then the lady showing the apartment said, “It’s a first-come, first-served situation. Whoever gets their application in first gets the place.” The guy and I looked at each other and bolted down the stairs, intent on being the first to get that online application finished.
And I won. Take THAT, DUDE! (Actually, I really hope you found a great place. Namaste.)
I packed up my things and moved in, with the help of my family and friends. It was probably the easiest move ever. All I had was a chair, a bookshelf, books, and kitchen supplies. No bed, no TV-nothing. People who showed up 30 minutes late had nothing to do, because I was all moved in. And I liked that, a lot. It was nice that I didn’t have too much baggage to take with me.
Now, a couple of years later, I am leaving my haven of an apartment. I have loved this sunshiney place where I’ve healed so much. Part of me is a little sad to leave, but I’m mostly happy to head somewhere better! Since moving in, I’ve acquired a few more things (sorry, to those of you who are going to help me move in a week and a half), but I’ve tried to be deliberate in what I’ve chosen. Sure, maybe I have too many books (HA! No such thing!) and maybe I shouldn’t have tried to use a yoga swing in a 600 foot apartment (Namaste), but I feel like I’m taking the right amount of stuff with me. And that’s something I’ve learned: Try to take the right stuff with you, and don’t get too held back by the rest.