Well, yesterday I stepped into our first home for the first (and possibly last) time in over a year. I walked up the stairs for the last time, and walked down the hall to our old room and immediately all the memories flooded back. All the laughter, all the fun. I vividly recalled our first night in the house, looking around the room thinking “oh my god, what have we done?” But then looking at H, knowing we could do it. Knowing we were going to do awesome things together. Walking down the hall reminded me of all the times we would playfully chase eachother through the house. I walked into our dining room/kitchen and was reminded of all the meals we made together, all the family gatherings. I walked into the room that potentially would have been babies room. I walked to the bathroom in the hall where I sat after taking the pregnancy test, showing H the positive. The same bathroom I took tummy pictures in for the first few months on my pregnancy. I walked into the basement where we cuddled and watched our favorite shows and played our favorite games. I specifically remembered the time I came home from a long day at work a few months after our honeymoon to H dressed in his vacation clothes, with a mai tai made for me, because he knew I needed a drink and a good time. I walked into the garage, where we spent a lot of time doing projects, entertaining friends with our pool and ping pong table. I walked into the back yard, where we spent so much time gardening and trying to make it perfect. And after I walked out, realizing that with the house, I’m selling a part of the best years of my life, I broke down.
I broke down because I feel that I can never get those memories back. I broke down because I wish I could relive those years. I broke down because I fear that once the house is sold, H will realize it’s easier to leave now that we have 1 less thing that is holding us together. I broke down because I miss the ignorant bliss I once lived in in that home.
This new house, though beautiful and filled with so many good memories, is also full of the darkest days of my entire life. Days where I truly believed death would be easier than life. Days that I wished were just a dream. Days that I considered myself a disgusting, useless person, who didn’t deserve to be loved. Days that I questioned everything H and I had done together, things he said, and smiles he gave me.
With the selling of this house means a part of me is also gone. This is the house that built us.
But what I hope comes from this is a new beginning. A new understanding of love, and a stronger love than we had before. What I want for this next year is to truly HEAR what my husband needs, and to be heard by him as well. Not only hear and be heard, but to also do it. I hope that we grow closer and stronger and happier in the next year. I hope to become a better communicator when it comes to my feelings. I hope to laugh as much as I can, and to never regret anything I’ve done with my life. I hope I learn how to love myself. I hope to be more independant. I hope, a year from now, I look at my life and find nothing but joy and happiness.
I’m going to miss that part of my life, but part of me feels that it was all a lie. The love I thought we had was only just touching the surface of what we really needed to have. So, to that I say good riddance. Goodbye to all the stuff I thought we had, but didn’t. Goodbye to all the mistakes H and I made in our past marriage. But I also say welcome to the honest, loyal, trusting new marriage I hope to achieve this year.