Sheer Happiness

Tonight, I sang in the shower. This is not a common occurrence. I've cried in the shower more than once, but I don't often sing. 

I did tonight.

Why? Because I did it. 

The move is over. My new apartment is settled, save for a few things to hang up, and it is already home. I'm filled with peace and contentment and something else: pride. I am so damn proud of myself for having the courage to take this step to move into my own place, to reclaim my life, to reclaim me. 

I haven't felt like this in a long, long time. And that means all of it - the heartache, the crying, the packing and purging and moving, the financial hit, the literal pain my body has experience, the exhaustion - it's all been worth it. It also means this was the absolute right thing to do.

At one point, in the thick of packing and lifting and carrying box after box, of making the various trips between the old place and the new, I thought, "Oh, it would be so much easier to just stay put." But then I stopped myself. "No," I thought. "it would be so much harder to stay put. Why? Because I'd be neglecting my truth, neglecting what my heart has been shouting at me for the last six months." The move and all it entailed was a temporary inconvenience. I kept my eye on the prize, and now here I lay in bed, my cat cozied up beside me, a classic movie playing on my tv, soft lights casting warmth and security. My bedroom also contains my office, and it's a corner that reflects who I am in every piece displayed on my desk and wall: the Snoopy knickknacks, the pictures of my daughter and my family, the stuffed foxes, the diploma for my MA in history, the Prince John figurine from Disney's Robin Hood (my all time favorite Robin Hood!), the Mozart watch I proudly wore in high school, the framed photo of Pedro Pascal, and so much more.

The rest of my apartment is also proudly me. My living room contains an entire wall of bookshelves, and a retro radio sits on my fireplace. I have a little vintage spot dedicated to my grandparents: on an old desk sits a 1940s typewriter, lamp, and fan, and pictures of my grandparents from when they were dating up to their 50th wedding anniversary. My Snoopy collection will soon be displayed in a hutch, and I also have some Snoopy pieces on top of my kitchen cabinets. Antique plates hang on the wall underneath the cabinets, giving the modern space more of an English cottage look.

And since it's Christmas, I also put up some Christmas decorations, though I didn't go all out like I usually do. I put up two Snoopy Christmas trees and will do a third. I also did the regular Christmas tree with all the ornaments from my childhood, my daughter's childhood, places I've traveled, and so much more. 

Tonight, I feel like I can breathe again. I'm wrapping up projects at my current job, and I will begin my new job on January 2. I'm excited and nervous, but absolutely ready. I said goodbye to my coworkers last week and it was bittersweet - but as many are friends, I will continue to stay in touch with them. 

And my writing? Oh, I can't wait to get back to it. Writing this blog post is a way of easing me back in. I haven't looked at my novel since Thanksgiving - I've simply not had the time. Now that the move is done, and the apartment mostly settled, I can focus on it again. Of course, there's always that resistance when it comes to returning to a project you've not looked at in ages...but I will overcome it!

My friends, the first two steps of creating a new life have been accomplished: a new place to live, and a new job. 

I. Did. It.