What Feels Like Home

Sometimes, you have no idea how much something means until you have been without it so long.  Nearly two years ago, I went from having an apartment filled with nice furniture to having nothing, as the result of an ugly divorce (things are more civil these days, but very ugly then).  I decided that my furniture was simply not worth the mental energy required to fight for it.  But, in the ensuing two years, as I have gradually moved from owning an inflatable mattress and a dish upon my first night in Salem, to acquiring computer desks, washer & dryer, refrigerator, chairs, a breakfast nook, a real bed, bookcases, storage, cooking supplies, and all manner of other odds and ends (including of course A HOUSE and FOUR beasts), I have thought often of what I was forced to leave behind.

Freak also moved out here with a few boxes, and a single car load of stuff.  But, for him, the choice was very much voluntary--he really didn't own much in the way of furniture, and sold what little he did have to his roomates, and stored what he might want later with the roommates as well.  For me though, I spent a long time floundering, feeling like I had lost my equilibrium, my sense of security in the world. 

I have never really been materialistic person, but I found myself becoming much more so when confronted with so much empty white space. And, this is not to say, "Oh woe is me, I wish my ex would have let me take something with me more than my books and laptop"--because in many, many ways, the clean break was the best possible thing for me.  I didn't have to live day in and day out with the memories, and the ability to move on without constantly looking back is indeed a blessing.  Plus, having found Freak in the interim, I'm very glad that what we are starting with is his, and mine, and OURS, rather than ghosts from a past relationship---we have enough of those around these parts.

While I have been appalled at my newly acquired materialism--coveting furniture and obsessed with decorating,  I have also benefited from this time.  I have had a chance to sink into my own sink, gradually and decisively.  I have had the freedom to make missteps, and for the first time in my life, I have felt truly independent and in charge of my destiny.  Which has, of course, been entirely terrifying. 

But so much good has happened too.  *I* have changed, and mostly for the better.  But, still, in my weaker moments, I have missed my couches.  Somehow my previous couches, the matching set that I deeply loved and loathed to leave behind, came to symbolize the disjunction between the stability of  my previous life and the haphazardness  of this one. 

Perhaps it was the difficulty in locating said items of furniture, unable to purchase new because the bankruptcy necessitated by the ugliness of the divorce, unable to pick-up spur-of-the-moment at garage sales without a big enough vehicile, unable to act fast enough on freecyle or craigslist.  But, being forced into watching more movies on the floor, lounging on the floor in front of the fireplace ceased feeling like an adventure and started feeling more like an affront to my sensibilities.   And, I am sad to say, that Freak's bachelor indifference and complacency with the status quo only served to further depress me. 

It was hard to accept that no one else *had* to share my passion for getting furniture, that no one else was going to be the "great provider" and drag couches back to our cave.  No, I was going to have to make this happen on my own. 

But, my luck changed.  Over the last month, I have put my mind (and $) to it, determined to fill this emptiness in the living room.  Freak and I got a couch and love seat last night.   Of course, being the bargain QUEEN, these were a terrific bargain. I was giddy all day, afraid that my bargain was about to be snatched away, that the seller would change his mind, that they would turn out to be in very bad shape, or any other manner of catastrophes. 

But no, it was totally meant to be.  The seller turned out to be a fabulous guy, fellow dog owner and wanna-be-urban farmer, and it was the most fun I have had spending that kind of  money  in a very long time.  The whole drive back with the couches en tow (very nice seller helped us out with his truck), I was practically dancing in my seat.  I could not believe how nice they had turned out to be, our incredible good fortune. 

It took two years for me to get over myself, to lower my requirements, to get to the point where I could truly appreciate what this meant. And last night, long after the seller had left, after the scientist was asleep, and the house was dark, as Freak and I lay on opposite ends of the big couch, in a  type of cuddle we had never been fortunate enough to share before, it hit me.  The whole house felt like it was hugging me, caressing me, soothing my soul, and filling the emptiness.  And I started to cry.

I am rather adept at crying these days, but these were not tears of sadness or depression at all.  Rather, I was crying with relief. Relief at finally having them here, relief at realizing just how very much it meant to me, relief at having made it happen.  I doubt that I would have appreciated this moment in the same way two years ago, when my shell-shocked self was simply too numb and raw.  But last night, the happiness washed over me, wave after wave.  Over a couch.  Silly, crazy little thing, that just happened to feel like home.

Comments

[elle]

The new couch sounds priceless! Thanks for the visit, I will be back, looks intersting.

[Michele]

Oh sweetie, it is not crazy at all. Home ranther than "house" or "apartment" is one of the most cherished things for most people. A home is located in a place but it is so much more than location it is a feeling, a mood, a comfort, and a place of belonging.

The couch was and is simply a symbol of home. It is a wonderful comforting symbol but a symbol nonetheless. You and Freak make it home . Your wonderful new couch simply decorates your place of belonging.

I am thrilled for you. I truly am.

[blaze]

Congratulations to you. On being able to strike a harmony with your 'Self' and on being able to put the daemons-from-the-past to rest.

For some of us it takes entire lifetime.

[Old Horsetail Snake]

It wasn't luck, either. YOU made it happen. Good on ya, kid.

[Kimberly]

That is so NOT crazy. You're making a new home. I believe that "home" is largely about your emotional connection with Freak. I also believe that the physical space you share, and the furniture and objects with which you fill it, are very complicated, personal symbols -- symbols which, for some people, are vitally important to that sense of comfort and belonging that we call "home".

Reading this, I thought about a book that I really enjoyed. It's called 'House as a Mirror of Self: Exploring the Deeper Meaning of Home'. It's part architecture, part psychology. (I studied both in college, and will confess to being fascinated by discussions about the intersections between the two.) It helped me to understand my relationship to places that feel homey to me, and those that don't.

Oh, but I do go on. This is all to say that I'm really happy for you, and I hope that your house continues to become more and more "home" for both of you.

[tanya]

I'm so happy for you, too!

I've moved a lot in my life, and everywhere we went, my parents' accumulation of 20+ years of belongings followed us. Although I was 25 before my parents actually had a house where they could park in the garage.

For as nice as that is, it's still odd to think that half the boxes have been eliminated...it's like half of my history or something. And the ratty old couches have been gone for two years now - the ones my parents bought before I was born, the ones that survived 7 kids bouncing up and down on them.

[Lily Bleu]

I am not a fan of purple and more a fan of pottery barn than metropolitan modern, but I figure if they're comfy and in decent condition they work.

Divorce makes us realize what is really important to us and then we realize that things aren't that important in the long run: our happiness matters instead.

I wish $ was easier to come by, because I too have a long wish list of furnishings, matching towels, beautiful art, and a shoe rack filled with Doc Martens and Adidas tennis shoes. :) In time. First we gotta plant that money tree out back and wait for it to grow! *laugh*

[natalie]

oh girl--what an amazing special entry!! i loved it! don't you love when you find your home (& who you're supposed to share it with?).
i'm so glad we've both found our real homes. :)

[Kathy]

Reading this post made me laugh and cry. I am happy for you!

[wavybrains]

Thanks for everyone's best wishes!

Kimberly--thanks for the awesome book recomendation--sounds totally up my alley and I plan to request it from the library. The more rambling the better : ) :) :)

[Scott]

Glad our happy little couches found a good home! I really enjoyed meeting you both, it's always nice to chat with interesting people. You've inspired me to pick up my own long neglected blog and book dreams. Sorry that your cats inspired our dog to mark his territory in your living room.

Good luck on your novel, I would love to read it - right after after finishing 'Ishmael' this weekend. Cheers -

[Claire]

Sounds like you've been on a voyage of self discovery and finding something that symbolises home is a really important part of all that. I really hope things continue to improve for you!

Also, I've now posted my answer to your question on my blog...thanks for joining in the Q&A request!

[indigo]

hihi...Thanks for visiting my site and your great comment. Nice site you have here. :)

It's never easy starting over. I think those couches were for you, the moment that the past became exactly that...the past. You're now in a good place with a good man. It only gets better from here.

[Old Horsetail Snake]

Hey, fellow Oregon. I got new template from a wizard in Louisiana. Now can list my fav. blogs, and you are on it. Well, of course. You a dandy writer.