And so it seems that when big influential decisions are made, they are made quite suddenly. In this case, the weekend. In the ordinary process of conversation. When someone says something, (a nothing, a meandering idea) and something simply clicks in your brain. Change happens in the float of a thought.
This weekend I made a decision bigger than any I have made in the past decade. Though it is an idea that has been wafting around my brain for a long time now, I have chosen to ignore it. To put it to the back of my mind and pretend that it could not be the very solution to so many of the niggles interfering with my life.
I am going to sell the house.
My teeny tiny little house. The first house I bought. The one I brought my baby home to. The one in which my Mum sat and hugged me. The house I built BrocanteHome in. The house I cannot live in now because the walls are papered in yesterday and each and every room feels claustrophobic.
I could not have done it before today. My Mum would have panicked about jeopardising my security. After Richard, I desperately needed to provide Finley with the certainty of home. And above all else I needed time to recover from the trauma of the last few years in the safety of a place I knew.
But it is time. Ste and I need a place we can call our own. I want a garden. To be able to wander away from the family and sit somewhere quietly by myself instead of all finding ourselves within constant spitting distant of each other. I want to live in a house where my I can keep my dog without bothering my neighbours and where I can park the car without worrying that it will get bashed by a lorry speeding down this very long lane on the way to the motorway. I want Mark to be free of the mortgage his name is still on and I want Finley and Stevie to be able to co-exist without driving each other up the wall.
We have spent the weekend talking it round and round in circles. Sitting up late at night, looking at money and weighing up the pro’s and con’s of freedom from a house that has become so very confining. And ultimately I have come to the conclusion that this is the right way to re-direct the trajectory of our lives. That it is in fact the only way I will ever grow. The only way we can be a family.
This is huge for me. Though I know other people change houses as often as they change handbags, my house has become an extension of myself I simply could not imagine shaking off. And now it is time to grow up and to recognise that a house is not a home. And a home is not a self. That where ever we go, there we are and that with the right intentions we can re-create home in a heartbeat.
I guess then it is about taking a leap of faith. And so here I am: about to call the estate agents and ask them to come value the house.
Consider me a-leaping.