Today I went to my house. The house I lived in with my husband and son and cat before March 2020.
Its been a while since I have lived there full-time
While waiting for my double lung transplant I live at my parents in a large room with a bed, tv, desk, my computer and some belongings I bought across with me.
They have made it comfortable for me and they help me immensely – but its not home. Its my childhood home, but not my home.
Mum and Dad are able to take me to appointments and look after as I struggle health wise.
I go to the address on my licence most weekends.
Most people assume that I go home on the weekend to my actual house and I’m in heaven, they assume I love my own house, all the things I left behind, all the memories, my old life before I became unwell.
I thought I would miss the house
I thought I would miss my things
I’ve changed since I went into heart failure in March 2020 and had to process needing a double lung transplant
I’ve had to change, I have changed. You cant go through all that I’ve been through and stay the same.
I don’t need all the things in the house
The memories make me sad because I want to be “her” again, the version of myself I left there the day I was rushed to hospital. Actually I don’t want to be her ever again.
I just wan’t my energy back. I wan’t my independence back.
The house makes me feel anxious, its filled with things I left that I thought I needed, projects I didn’t finish because I thought I wanted to do them “some-day”, books piled that the new me doesn’t want to read. Cook books with recipes I thought I would make one day, photographs of me before all this happened…. and so much “stuff”
The stuff stares at me when I’m there, making me feel trapped and suffocated when I’m there. It makes me feel like I need to be her again and I don’t want to be
She was so busy pleasing people, she didn’t realise she was so unhappy
I look at items of furniture I never liked but purchased calling it compromise.
I look at the layout and the vibe, its not me. It doesn’t feel like MY home.
Maybe things will change after the transplant and I’ll feel different…. maybe they wont. Maybe they never will.
Today I sit here typing this post as a different version of myself.
I want less “stuff” and more “calmness”
I want minimal furniture, minimal plates and cups and pots and pans, minimal clothing. My body is screaming for simplicity.
“Simplicity!! Less is more!!”
Simplicity though isn’t just with “things”, its also with relationships, lifestyle, goals, freedom with your time, your commitments, your obligations. Less to do and think about. Less to clean and organise. Less maintenance and more time for things that I love.
While I wait for this transplant – I commit to simplifying my life.
I commit to being true to myself and not being someone I can’t and don’t want to be
Whatever does’t bring me peace, must go.
Until next time, make it a great day.