I apologize in advance. Because this is where I cue Boyz II Men and turn up “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye.” As of this past weekend, I have officially moved out of my home of the past three years. I am exhausted. The last two weeks have been lots of late nights of carrying things up and down staircases, sweating through 93% humidity, and getting way too little sleep as the fiance and I clean out his apartment and prepare a place to call home in the next two weeks.
[And because it’s important to me to put this out there, when I say starting a new home together I mean decorating. We have a pure relationship and the rest of that “starting a new life together” stuff is waiting until after the wedding bells on August 17th.]
The apartment I just left is where God brought me in July of 2009, right after I lost nearly everything I owned. I’ll definitely be sharing more about that as soon as I can, because it was a huge turning point in my healing process. He knew that apartment, in that neighborhood, at that time was exactly what I needed, and this is where He showered me with His goodness and where He wrapped up my last 6 months of treatment and then led me through two more re-exposures and healed me two more times.
It’s also where God finally helped me get over some crippling anxiety and where He unlocked my love for dinner parties and entertaining – starting with an idea to host a dinner party every month for seven months to watch all of the Harry Potter movies in a row, which is one of my favorite memories.
A lot happened in that three years.
Steph and I lived in this apartment together for the first year, and she did an incredible job of making it feel like home with our hand me down furniture.
I seriously loved this apartment even with its sloped ceilings, super loud radiators, and unbearably hot summertime temperatures. I will never forget how the thermostat could read 94 degrees even with both ACs on.
I also loved the quirks like the dumbwaiter in the back hallway, the front and back staircases, and the coal room in the basement, even though it made me scared to do laundry down there at night.
Most of all I loved that I could step outside and breathe in huge views of trees and sky and the sounds of bugs and birds, which is virtually unheard of in other parts of this city. I loved that I had two organic grocery stores within walking distance of my front door, and I could skip out and grab my favorite foods without a second thought.
I loved walking down the street and oohing and aahing at all the houses.
Yep, this apartment pretty much had everything I needed.
Now as I’m getting ready to start a new life with the future hubby (can you believe it’s less than two weeks away?!) I’m unpacking my things in his apartment in Astoria, Queens and we’re burning the midnight oil breaking down boxes, clean sweeping, and gutting all the rooms and closets to start a new home together.
This article on (in)courage about loving your home totally hit home as we start over together. It’s going to be a total project making our new space feel like “us,” and I’m so excited that God has been showing me how healing and restorative it is to make a house feel like home. I can thank Steph and the fiance for continually reminding me of that and pushing me to personalize my space when I’m scared to take the leap.
Over the years I’ve learned that a beautiful environment has helped me heal emotionally just as much as healthy food and vitamins have helped me physically. What things in your life have you found to be healing and restorative?
I’m going to try to write as often as I can, but I might continue to be a little quieter over the next two weeks while I try to catch my breath. Thank you for stopping by, and I hope your week is off to a great start!