Truths: Emotionally "moving"

So, a few weeks ago, I wrote about the anniversary of my brother’s death. How I opened the present he never received and how grateful I was (am) that I was given the gift of my niece.

What I didn’t write is how I actually coped that day.

We were at the cabin and, after talk about the tight space in our eating area, and many months of silent contemplation – I decided on THAT day I would re-arrange all of the furniture in the main living areas.

Sure the sofas are heavy (one is a sleeper) and the idea I had was a little out there: I took the TV area and made it the dining room, I took the eating area and made it a reading nook and brought everything else into the brand new sunroom.

See, we built this beautiful addition – a sunroom - and no one ever goes in there. Instead, they spend all of their time at the kitchen table or in the small TV area – leaving this amazing room unoccupied.

It had to be changed and that day had to be the day to do it.

I know my family didn’t understand my vision nor did they understand my haste in making it happen THAT day. Instead, they questioned me with their stares and rolling eyes and begrudgingly helped move the furniture.

I had an anxiety attack along the way – even questioning myself and my plan. But, it didn’t matter and besides its just a little sweat – I could always move it back – even though it seemed like it would be a permanent decision I would have to live for the rest of my life!

Finally, the furniture was all in places (just a few scratches on the floor) and my family still questioning my sanity, and I had no idea what I had just done. Maybe I was nuts?

We were leaving that day and I was left to leave my, now, chaos – to accept what I had just done – which seemed like the worst thing to do and walk away.

I am a design freak – always searching for the next way to decorate my home(s) – the right new accessories – leaving three rooms incomplete nearly knocked the wind out of sails.

Especially when the entire exercise was, at that point, a subconscious outlet for dealing with my brother’s death – a way to gain control over something I had no control over – a subtle way to take my life back and maybe even a way to pretend that it never happened.

We do things like that even when we don’t know that we are. Even though I had thought long before about moving that furniture – that day I just woke up and knew it had to happen immediately.

I spent the rest of the week debating and agonizing my decision especially after it dawned on my the real reason I did it in the first place. But last Thursday, when I, alone, went to the cabin and walked into the new sunroom – it felt right. And I was able to, finally, breathe again.

That night after a few episodes of Sex and the City, I spent my time re-arranging the rugs, the lamps, the knick knacks making it mine (ours). Finalizing my decisions and realizing that while my method for my madness (literally) was unconventional – the outcome of it was ideal.

The next day when my husband showed up – he walked in and said, “Wow, this looks amazing.” Only adding to my sense of accomplishment!

Ironically, the next morning, we both woke up and enjoyed the reading nook looking out at the lake – which used to be the eating area I was trying to get people out of in the first place! But more importantly, the cabin felt good again and a newness to my life began.

My brother once helped me move into my apartment when I was first separated – he was the only family I had at that point in my life and he was there to help me get a new start on my life… I would like to think that he helped me move again and probably laughed as I pulled a muscle moving the sofa! Brothers are like that.