Ruminating, Transforming, & Romanticizing

A month has gone by since I moved back home. It has gone extremely well! We've ventured back into a routine, but this new routine has good habits such as: frequent walks, continued counseling sessions, Saturday breakfasts at Bojangles, and an organized sharing of household chores & bill paying. There are still some areas that are enshrouded in shades of grey, but we deal with them as they come up. And yes, there is still a lot of jockeying to make sure toes are not stepped upon, but those times are fewer and farther between. As an added plus, they serve to remind us that we care enough to consider the other one's feelings in any given situation and it does not feel as though we are treading upon glass or eggshells. Yaaay!

My mind has been wandering for the past week or so, though. Wandering back to my former dwelling that we dubbed "The Cave." Not because it was cave-like, but because it was my hiding place. The pictures on the right are ones taken from The Cave.
The ones on the left are shots of the den (also known as Shannon's old room). I like the transformation. Of both my marriage and the look/feel of the room. I prefer the colors and layout. Sure, it is smaller, but I like the coziness of it. Better still is the fact that I can spend as much time as I want in there - alone - without question or hard feelings. Because the time I spend in the den is not viewed as a threat in any way, I am easily able to give up time in that room in order to sit beside Andy in the livingroom without feeling like I am sacrificing something.

Why then do my thoughts meander back to The Cave? Having my own place for the first time in my life was important to me. I took a little cracker box apartment and turned it into a nifty little nest. With that came a sense of accomplishment. While there, I wasn't responsible for anyone but me (and later, Aslan). It was nice not to have any demands on my time. Of course, I spent that time trying to figure everything out; what went wrong, how to fix it, and whether or not I even wanted to fix it. Believe me when I say this: when I moved out on July 28th, it was my intention to never go back. Strangely, as time marched along at its own pace, I found myself wanting to consider other people. I wanted outside responsibilities. I missed people. Very few ever really set foot in the apartment. Pat was there once. Julie, Tony, Beth, and a few others also occupy the "once" list. Shannon was a fairly regular visitor. Andy was there the most. However, with the exception of one time, he never came without an invitation. My parents never visited me there. In fact, I saw them all of 3 times in 5 months, and always at their house. One time I mentioned the possibility of Mom & Dad visiting me and my mother said, "No!" I'm working on getting over that hurt.

Still, when I left the apartment for the last time I paused at the door with an unexplainable reluctance. Giving up the only thing that had ever truly been mine and mine alone was difficult! I looked around the empty living/dining/kitchen area and sighed deeply. That's right - I was standing in the door on December 21st romanticizing the past 5 months. Then the thought struck: while I experienced content in some ways when living there, I also spent a lot of time crying. Worse, I cried alone. Totally and completely alone. During those times, I felt desolate and hopeless. What a horrible way to exist!

Oh--not that I walked away from my solitary existence completely. That is evident in the den...and in one practice I carried home with me: time spent loving on Aslan upon my return from work each day. He waits for me, sitting on the bed watching me change out of my work clothes. Once I stretch out beside him, an extended time of petting and cuddling take place to the tune of his purr. What a great way to get rid of the stresses of the day!

Truth be told, making certain sacrifices are so worth it! Sure, I have moved back into the old responsibilities. The worries that haunted me before and during the time I had a different address are still there - but now are shared rather than being dealt with alone. It is nice to be needed and wanted. It is nice to have a reason to get up in the morning besides a hungry cat and a demanding boss that makes me crazy.

To finish up this entry, I'll show you another transformation: Aslan and Luke became wrestling buddies pretty quickly, but now they'll actually curl up together. As for sitting on Andy's lap, believe me when I say it is not Andy they want; it is the chair! They haven't shared the chair or Andy's lap very often - maybe twice or three times. I guess that proves that just like in my life, some work still needs to be done in theirs.