I have been actively grieving for exactly 4.4 years today; and what I have learned over these years is that grief is not predictable. Very recently, I decided to move. I listed my house and it sold in less than a week. So, now I am packing up fourteen years of belongings, some of which include Mike.
I thought I would feel emotional about the move. I thought selling the house would create anxiety and activate my grief; but it hasn’t – at least not yet. Instead of being scary, deciding to move has been liberating. I have been set free. The house will no longer bind me to the past. I have a chance to start again somewhere else and this has created a sense of optimism inside me. I feel strangely excited when thinking about the uncertain future; and, feeling any type of excitement about the future has all but eluded me since he died. So, this is big, big stuff.
It has been far too long since I have felt any sustained thrill or eagerness about life. Quite unexpectedly, moving has brought forth a type of giddy anticipation about the future that I haven’t felt since Mike walked the Earth. Since selling my house, I feel more than mildly excited about life and this is pretty remarkable given my baseline these last 4.4 years. I should mention that I did not spontaneously make the decision to move; in fact, I have been patiently waiting to sell for over four years. This carefully thought out decision feels right. It feels more than right actually. For me, it is time to leave my house and selling has given me a lot of well deserved peace.
I feel free. It feels as though a huge weight has been lifted from me now that the house is sold. For the first time in years, I can finally breathe. At last, I am physically leaving the place where my old life took place; and, I am confidently stepping into my new life. Sure, I know, I am leaving the place where I raised my kids; but, it is time. There is nothing left here for me. The kids are grown… And, when I move, I will concentrate on raising up the new me. It is cool. It is not lost on me that the roles are reversed. This time, it is me, not my children, who will “grow up” and into myself in the new house. It is my turn to focus on my own identity and sense of well being. It is my time to become the person I am meant to be.
I have wanted to move since Mike died, but I stayed here because of my responsibilities. It was the right thing to do for my children and I am proud that I stayed when it was so very, very hard for me to live in the place where my world collapsed and shattered into a million pieces. I have tried to live in the shadows of my former life; but I have felt out of sorts and uncomfortable in my town since he died. For me, I can’t run from these familiar streets fast enough.
I have outgrown this place. It is stifling me. I have been quietly suffocating here in my house; and, from the moment I signed the sales papers, I felt I could breathe easier. This is the right move. I am thrilled to have set this change in motion. I have not felt this sure of anything since Mike died.
I desperately long for change. And, now that I have actioned change new opportunities and possibilities lay ahead for me. I have a massive feeling that this move is going to be the start of all sorts of exciting new beginnings for me. And, what serves me well is ultimately good for my children because their mother will be happier than she has been in a long, long time.