It's funny. I put my house on the market shortly after meeting my current fiance. My plan was to sell the house, my Earthly possessions and buy an RV. It was going to be my Rottweiler and myself, touring America--stopping occasionally to work and moving on when the need/urge arose. I have friends all over the U.S. and it was just going to be one big road trip. Just me and a dog nicknamed, Boo.
My house had a buyer shortly after I put it on the market. She was from out-of-state, saw the pictures online and was willing to meet my asking price--no questions asked. Talked it over briefly with the future fiance, whom also owned his own home and somehow or other, the For Sale sign came down; a month later, he was living with me. For those that know me well, they understand how hasty and unlike me such an action was. My brain generally rules my heart and I am prone to over analyzing my own actions as opposed to acting upon impulse.
A year later, his house is sold. His Earthly possessions are now housed here. Thank goodness I had bought a five bedroom house (for a single person) as we now have space for his three children. Unfortunately, my taste has always been antiques and collectibles. Not very practical when the children range from eight-years-old to fourteen-years-old and they reside in a household of six children. They have little concept of "antique," breakable," or the concept of "Do NOT touch that."
I have never been good with sharing. Be it my space or anything else. Not that I shouldn't have learned with two younger brothers, but it has still always been a personal struggle/personality flaw. I have always taken great pride in my possessions and have struggled with letting go of material objects--even when they were broken or no longer functional/useful. As a quiet soul, my material possessions defined the inner me just as much as at thirty-eight, my ridiculous T-shirts are my voice.
However, something shifted in my personality/who I am, about two years ago and all the things that were most important in my life (my pets, my home, my "stuff") some how went from being my everything, to becoming burden. Something changed and I realized that life experiences were more important than all of these possessions. Suddenly my possessions were holding me back and keeping me chained in a place I no longer loved.
I am not entirely sure what happened. These changes/shifts started even before the fiasco of April 22, 2010. I began by relocating my cat (whom I still love dearly and miss more than I can begin to express)--she went to live with my Grandma. This was also due to several other factors: allergies, asthma, and the fact that she was making my PTS even worse with her nighttime activity. Shortly after, I had to have my other cat put down. A year later, my Rottie, Boo was adopted by a friend of my brother (again, still missing deeply). I even attempted to find homes for my three ferrets (whom still reside here).
I know many people questioned my actions--my furbabies have always been my life. For me to relocate them to other homes has left many of those that know me scratching their heads. Over the past months, as I have been attempting to sell off my antiques and worldly possessions, the whispers continue... "What is going on with her? She loves her pets, her house, her things. Is she okay?"
They say personality essentially remains consistent throughout a life-time. Yet I went from proud homebody, with a menagerie of critters as children, to what? I don't know for sure. I still miss my pets. It is a tad bittersweet as I watch my antiques moving out at a fraction of what they are worth. But I can't deny that something changed two years ago.
As I mentioned, relocating the pets was also for health reasons. I haven't been required to take Advair and have not had an asthma attack in the two years since my cats left. With my back issues, having a Rottweiler was causing me more physical difficulty than I could continue to manage. The ferrets? Yes, I have to shower immediately after handling them, but I can't part ways with them. These three will likely be my last, none-the-less. I have come to the realization that fur bearers in my home is not a healthy choice for me. For the first time in my life, I am taking the advise that my doctors always gave--"my health first."
Ridding myself of my beloved possessions? My antiques were meant to be my retirement fund. In twenty, thirty years, I planned on selling them with good profit. Currently, I have a fiance with three children. Would I rather that they get ruined and end up in the driveway with the garbage or part with them now? It truly is the logical choice. Not to mention, child-friendly furniture will ease my stress immensely. Watching children play surrounded by antiques and extensive collectibles does not overly warm my heart. Watching them plop themselves down on Victorian-era furniture makes me cringe. They are children. This shouldn't be a museum.
As I mentioned, I was selling the house, auctioning off everything else and hitting the road. Is it coincidence that my attachments ceased shortly before I met my fiance? I think not. I don't know that I would have been able to let them go several years ago. I had already faced the concept of letting things go that I loved--in trade for something I wanted more... FREEDOM. How different is it now? I have come to terms with the fact that my possessions were tying me down. And what if my house caught fire or was burglarized? Having my possessions equal my life was a disaster waiting to happen.
They may say that personality doesn't change. Yet I did a 180. I believe that this was life cluing me in that I was ready to take a new direction--one that I hadn't visualized before. If the things in life that were important to me then still reigned in my heart, there is no way my current relationship would have made it as far as it has. Many of my friends are dumbfounded... "He has kids and they live with her?" "WHAT???" Granted, I still struggle with this--but I am fortunate. A year before I met him, I began getting rid of stuff and opening these spaces.
I believe everything happens for a reason. I believe in a purpose for all events that occur--even simple choices such as the route we choose to take when driving home, to being five minutes behind schedule. We may not always understand, we may not always like what happens--but yet, it is part of our story, it is not without reason. Maybe sometimes these things are part of somebody else's story and we are such a minor character, we do not even recognize our part...
At any rate, I believe my shift in priorities was to allow him to enter my life more easily. Past partners did not have active roles with their children--it had never before been an issue. Maybe it is all coincidence. I am fine with that, also. But it seems to me that my life was opening up to greet something greater. I was ready for an adventure that I had never undertaken. I was ready to slip free of the tethers and fly. My attachments lost their value, opening so much space to be filled with something better.
Yes, I recognize that he has (in some ways) taken their place--which is equally dangerous and terrifying--any attachment presents the opportunity for sorrow. However, I prefer the place I am in now to the one in which I had my former reality. Possessions, attachments to material items--there is no freedom there. This is a much happier place to be...
