Humbling Post

During my divorce, my world was turned upside down. The carpet was pulled out from under me. I didn't know which way was up. I was in survival mode.

I wanted to keep one thing the same. 

My HOME.

I was in pain and heartbroken. I wanted to stay in my safe, warm, loving home. I wanted to keep my bed in the same place. I wanted to shower in the same shower. Wanted to park my car in my familiar garage. I wanted to use my usual washing machine when my clothes got dirty. I wanted to see the artwork I bought in the entryway whenever I came home. I wanted to be able to negotiate every room in the dark, if needed. 

I needed something ... anything ... to stay the same. I craved familiarity.

Fast forward to last week.

For the last week I've had a stomach ache. I know my body. A stomach ache that lingers means something is bothering me. What have I been suppressing that is now ready to come up?

I stayed at home a lot last week. Some days hardly getting out of bed. I knew something was off. I was unconsciously processing something. 

After a lot of soul-searching, honesty with myself, and wonderful talks with my parents ... I've finally come to the root of my deepest sadness and grief.

I need to sell my home.

I just can't afford it. I am unbelievably strapped for money every month. 

At first, I cancelled things that seemed frivolous. Cable. Internet. Extra features on my calling plan. I worried what would happen when things broke. Lawn mower: can borrow the neighbors. Weed-wacker: don't really need one, I can do it by hand. Need new clothes: your old ones will do just fine. Hair cut: your gray hairs don't look that bad, you only have a few. I seemed to have a plan for everything.

But what happened, is that I missed out on fun opportunities, stressed about money, became irritable, and most unbecoming of all ... became resentful of others (this is so embarrassing to admit).

Because the truth is:

• I am loved
• I will never be homeless
• I will have everything that I need
• I already have everything I need
• I have an amazing support system
• Any home can become my home if I make it that way
• There are others that are so worse off me. It makes me sick to think about myself crying about a house when there are real problems out there.
• I am being selfish
• I am being shallow
• I'm trying to be real ... and honor my feelings

These negative characteristics are not on purpose of course. No one wants to be selfish and shallow. But the truth is ... sometimes I am ... and I guess that makes me human.

I'm ready to face what is scary and unpredictable. I'm ready to do what is hard.

Last week's step was admitting to myself that it must be done. I need to move on and sell my home. Just typing that sentence makes me cry. And you don't know how it feels because you're not in my shoes. You may have never had to go through this before. Or maybe you have, but this step was really easy for you. For me ... it only makes me sad.

But I've tried to afford my home for a long time now. And I'm ready to not worry about money. I pray that I will find somewhere new that I call home. I catch myself at what I'm saying and I totally realized that I am holding onto a materialistic item. So unlike me. But I guess it isn't.

When I talk to others about it ... everyone thinks it will be such a great move for me. Start over fresh. A place to truly call your own.

Everyone makes is seem so easy. Is that because they can see the big picture? Do I have tunnel vision?

At any rate ... now I'm just crying and typing.

The truth is ... is that I'm not really grieving about my house. I'm grieving about something much deeper. Whatever my house symbolizes to me.

My old life? A safe place? Security? The final step of my divorce?

Because I know only good things are in store for me ...

John 14: 1-2 Do not your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would not have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you.