They say that with any type of traumatic event in your life comes a great sense loss, grief and a endless rollercoaster ride of emotions. Some days you feel ok, some you feel really good, and others you are desperately trying to cling to anything that will keep you from falling apart - it’s like walking up a steep mountain of sand, you take a few steps forward, and then you painfully slide back to the start. It’s seems never-ending and the onslaught of emotions that you have to face is just exhausting. It may sound odd, but things have finally started to calm down, the stress and extreme workload that came with life as I knew falling apart and then trying to rebuild it slowly, and thankfully settles as the months pass. What doesn’t pass in a way ‘quickly’ enough is the grief.
I mentioned yesterday in post that I shared on Instagram about missing my garden and that I knew what flowers would be in bloom. What I didn’t mention was how incredibly homesick I am at the moment, I’ve lived in many homes over the years, but I have never known homesickness like this before - but, then again, I have never owned a home before and called it mine, ours. With the calmness that comes with life starting to slow down after a torturous year also brings with it emotions, memories and grief that you hadn’t had the time to deal with.
One of the hardest parts of the last few months has been loosing my home. It was my safety net, a place we had worked so so hard for and where we shared many wonderful days and nights with friends and family and after years of renovations I knew and loved every inch of it and now miss it terribly. From little things, like pottering in the kitchen, watching Kora (puppy) run from one end of the house to the other, or simply just having friends over and having our home bursting with laughter, good food and memories. To the big things, like why did we work so hard to get into the property market and create a home for it to be thrown away so quickly, and will I ever own another home again? I didn’t have time to even come to terms with the sale of our home, it all happened so quickly - the settlement of our home was finalised 8 weeks after Ben left me - so there wasn’t time for anything but survival really. So much so I shared the sale of our home without any glimmer of trouble in our marriage - yet that post came around 2 weeks after our marriage ended. Everything about that time is a horrible blur.
What I grieve is that I didn’t get to leave our home with him, after he left me that night we never set foot in our home together again. And the loss was huge. The day Mum and I packed and moved all of my things and I had to close the door to our home for the last time alone was possibly one of the hardest and saddest days in my life. I can still remember Mum having to lift me off the floor at one point as I was too exhausted with grief to move. It confirmed that everything was final, every terrible thing he had done was true, and in closing the door to our home, I closed the door on the last 11 years of my life and my whole heart shattered.
What takes a while to come to terms with, is that something this huge and painful can happen. You of course ask all of the normal questions, why me, how could this happen, didn’t I do enough, etc, but the terrible fact is that at some point you have to come to terms with your reality. A reality that the home I built and shared is no longer mine, we left if before we were ready too and I’ll forever miss it and the life that we shared there. Grief is cruel, but it also shows you that you really are a lot stronger that you think, and that no matter how hard the day is, there is always tomorrow. And as an incredibly lovely friend of mine said, there will be other kitchens, other homes for me to love, our home was not my last and I’m very very slowly looking forward to the next place I will call home. But, for now, home is in the loving and gracious safety net of my parents beautiful home, I feel safe, loved and forever welcome. And even though I’m homesick for our home and so sad to not be decorating it for Christmas this year. Home has always been where my family are. And right now, even though the grief is so raw, I don’t think I could ever feel more at home than I do now. xo