Yes, I wanted freedom. To be free from the corporate world, financial burdens, standard 30 year old woman expectations, city life and single lady life. It seemed as though every tangible, living and breathing achievement was literally represented within my beautiful 1920's brick walk-up apartment. I didn't fully recognize that so much joyfulness was about to be realized or that I had other dreams to nourish. Still, I experienced a halting resistance to change.
At some point T. and I were presented with the opportunity to begin living a somewhat unique lifestyle, and I got cold feet. In my conversations with him I fantastically likened our potential living situation to being homeless. As insensitive and pathetic as that sounds, as I spoke those words over and over, it became clear to me that my home in the 1920's walk-up, with carefully curated objects, was a piece of my identity I was unwilling to walk away from.
But I did walk eventually.
Moving into what I affectionately refer to as "the abandoned cottage" was the smartest choice, really, however it did feel like a little death in the early stages; la petite mort. In reality, it was a death and renewal of some sort.
At the time of the move, and in the several months prior, I had been living in emotionally troubled times.
If you are familiar with the amorous French phrase, "la petite mort," you will understand my attempt at analogy. These so called "troubles" were really not at all too dramatic or even unusual, yet any woman (or man) who's felt any heartache over lack of direction, and even over love, will be sure to relate.
Stay tuned for the continuation of this "pain-filled" love story in the near future. The abandoned cottage has been quite the adventure and also quite a blessing.
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