I’m afraid there may be an influx of house move related posts during the next week.  I’ll talk about the paranormal investigator that wants to date me another time.  (Yeah, seriously.)

 

I’m 99% OK with the physical aspect of the moving process.  I’ve started to take my beloved prints off the walls in the lounge so that we can get used to the fact that this really isn’t our home anymore.  We are living in a house, not a home, the emotional attachment has gone.  It’s funny how taking away the accessories you’ve accumulated over the years makes a house feel so soul-less.  It’s not ours anymore (I mean technically it is until 1pm next Friday) … but I mean I’ve disassociated myself from this place.  I’ve had to, it’s the only way I can cope.

 

I think the hardest thing for me, as always, is being strong for Dexter.  Putting all of my feelings aside to make sure he’s OK – it’s what we do, right?  We had tears again this morning (his, not mine) about leaving and I find myself repeating this mantra to him over and over again:

 

“It’ll be OK.  I promise.  It’ll all be OK.”  I don’t really know what else to say to him.

 

I tapped on the walls of our lounge as we stood there and explained that it was just bricks and cement.  That we can find somewhere else that we can make our home.  I then held him tight to me, smothering him in sloppy kisses (that he pretends he hates, but doesn’t) and asked him if I’d ever lied to him.  He said no, of course not … I’ve never lied to him (Santa stuff doesn’t count.)  I looked him straight in the eye and vowed that we’d be OK.

 

I meant it of course.  Even when he asked if it meant we’d have to live in our car.  “No love, we won’t have to live in our car, I promise.”  It seems like a far fetched statement but actually, how far is anyone away from destitution?  I’ve lived on the brink of bankruptcy for years, losing my home has been inevitable.  I’m thankful that I (somehow!) managed to find the strength to leave a toxic relationship and move on.  Dexter doesn’t understand the ‘intricacies’ of that … he just knows he’s lost his home of 9 years.  I’ve promised him a holiday this year and we spend a lot of time talking about countries we’d like to visit, new cities, new people.  He’s bought into it … I think my enthusiasm for life must be infectious.  Poor kid has no choice but be optimistic!

 

I’ll be spending today emptying wardrobes and getting rid of old gardening books I never read, but had fully intended to.  I’m going to try and take a lot of things to charity shops but, if I’m honest, if I don’t get round to it, the bin bags will just have to go out with Tuesday’s rubbish.  I can’t hold on to possessions that have associations of an unhappy past.  I carry a lot of that stuff inside me, I don’t need a sideboard we bought together to remind me.

 

So every day I will repeat, to myself as much as Dexter:

 

“It’ll be OK.  I promise.  It’ll all be OK,” and hope it’s enough.

 

 

 

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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.

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10 Comments

  1. I so relate to what you’re going through. Am possibly going to have to move house myself in a couple of months’ time due to splitting up with my husband. Haven’t said anything to the kids yet as I feel they’ve been through enough disruption and I don’t want to upset them. Not sure quite what I’m going to do and am trying to trust that all will be well somehow. I love your positive attitude in this post- thank you so much for sharing. I wish you and your son well.

  2. EVerything will be fine. You are strong and D is lucky to have you.

    I’ll be with you … not literally, obvs … unless you have loads of gin in that cupboard you just emptied x

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