The Making of Me

I have officially been living in my house for 8 weeks now.  I came home last night after a longer than usual out-of-town shift (4 days/3 nights instead of 2 days/1 night).  I still feel a little happy flip of my tummy whenever I walk in.  Sure, it desperately needs a new coat of paint, a kitchen and bathroom upgrade, the lawn is really not coping with the dog onslaught, and I have yet to replace the wardrobe I took so much pleasure in knocking out 8 weeks ago, but, I still love it.

I have never felt this way about any house I have lived in before.  I have owned (jointly) a house before with my ex-fiance, but even that was still different.  This place I know, I can form into my own masterpiece. It can be as girly or as gender neutral as I would like.  I don’t need anyone’s approval for the colour scheme or the pictures or the layout or… ANYTHING! 

I have been starting to get a bit tetchy the past couple of weeks because it has been 8 weeks and I still have no wardrobe, and I probably wont be able to afford to start the big renovations until Novemeber/December, which is still an agonising 7 MONTHS away!! I was starting to get seriously impatient.

But after a few extra days away, when I walked through my door last night I realised, it really doesn’t matter so much because I still love it.  Yes I want it to be as perfect as possible as soon as possible, but it’s ok that it’s not.  Because it’s mine, it’s my little haven, and while there are a lot of big things left to do, with every passing week, I find ways to make it me.

I walked in, I put the washing on (ready for a 5am training session, bleck!), I fed the hounds, showered and relaxed into my comforting bed with a book while I waited for the washing to finish.  It was such a relief to be able to revel in the quiet of my own home, the [almost] familiar sounds and smells. It was a relief to not have to think about any one else, make conversation when I didn’t feel like it, or listen to the tv blaring if I wasnt interested in watching. I was so in my Happy Place at that moment, and I still am, in fact I cannot wait to get back home later this evening!

Once again I find myself surprised by how much I am starting to enjoy my own company.  It’s not that I would ALWAYS rather forfeit the company of others in preference of my own, but I think it is healthy to enjoy a bit of “me” time, even though that phrase is usually reserved for those with children or those in relationships serious enough to involve a live-together arrangement.

Being away for 3 nights this week, meant that that was 3 nights (in one week! Gasp!) that I got to spend with The Crush.  Two weeks ago I was on the verge of calling the whole thing off, but after a rather frank conversation, he has upped the ante a little and is now making a full effort to not only be communicative but also open and perhaps a little vulnerable too.  I dont know how long its going to last, maybe indefinitely, maybe not, but I am enjoying it.  By yesterday morning as I kissed him goodbye I was already missing him, dreading the wait until Monday before I would see him again (he’s out of town escorting is team to a competition this weekend). 

However, after walking through my door last night I was surprised to not feel the pang in my gut quite so sharply as I had that morning. I did still miss him and I probably would not have passed up having him seated on the couch next to me, or begrudge his presence in my house had he been able to be there,  but I also was not upset that he wasn’t there either.  I’ll see him on Monday, and in the meantime I get to relax, plan a few more renovations, wash and walk the dogs and just generally take great delight in pottering for the next few days, in my space.

For the first time in a very long time I feel as though things are exactly as they should be.  Sometimes I start to daydream about whether or not The Crush and I have a future, and what that future might look like.  The thought of that feels good, positive, even with the hurdles and rather big life decisions we would have to face before we get to that point (if we get to that point), but its really only a happy vision as long it is planted firmly in the future. This is a new thing for me, to be content with just wanting that someday and not today. 

When I came across that photo of Mr X‘s baby son the other day, it was like a swift kick in the gut.  I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a setback exactly, because I didnt break down or get depressed and mopey, but I don’t think I can say I’m completely over it yet.

However, I do I think I have accepted that that part of my life is over, that we are over (or in fact, never were except as we existed in my own delusions), but there was still a little twinge, a little tug, a little voice inside that squeaked “why couldn’t he love me? what was wrong with me?”.  

But R was right, it’s just because he wasn’t the right man for me.  It’s difficult, when you are broken, to understand how the fact that someone doesn’t love you is not a reflection on you.  Not the result of some flaw or behaviour that you possess which turned them off.  I still find it a hard to concept to grasp, but as I have said before, you love who you love and you dont really have much choice in that.  You can’t make yourself love a particular person. 

It just is.

I just have to accept it without understanding it. 

Though, I wonder if I will always feel that little tug whenever I think of Mr X.  In one way, obviously, I hope I don’t.  But if I do, maybe it wont be so bad, it will just be a reminder of how far I’ve come.  Sometimes you need them, you can all too easily forget just how different things were x number of weeks/months/years ago.

I tell you, if someone had said even 5 months ago that I would be feeling this way now, I would not have believed them. 

I think buying the house and getting away from the reminders of my old suburb and and residence was a huge turning point.  However, looking back now, I remember a time when I felt that the only way I would be able to get over him was if I moved to another country! I dont think it would have been impossible to get to this point if I hadn’t moved house, but it may have taken a little longer and perhaps more mental effort to think positively.

Either way, every time I realise how much I’ve changed I am surprised.  It’s funny how these things creep up on you.