If you’ve read my earlier posts you know that my family and I are currently living in an apartment, after having lost rental houses and our personal house as well. It has been nine months and I still seem to have my moments, hours and days of struggle. I think I’ve figured out why.
People have said to me throughout this ordeal, that I have been through worse things in my life (and I have) so this should be no big deal. I’ve struggled with that thought because on an intellectual level I get what they are saying. On an emotional level, it just wasn’t adding up. This period in my life is the hardest I have ever had to deal with.
When we left our house and moved into this apartment, I left my life behind. The life I was living is gone. Not just because I don’t live in a house. It goes much deeper than that. It’s not about where I live as long as I live with those I love. This is true. But those things I did, those things I enjoyed doing for my family are gone. So not only am I adjusting to living in an apartment after 27 years, but I traded in my life as well.
I do know and I do understand that there are worse things going on in our world. Life is way bigger than my small piece of this earthly journey. There is no comparison. I’m not hosting a huge pity party. I’m not looking for sympathy. Just sharing where I’m at.
I’m not sure if I can express what I mean so that you will understand if you’ve never experienced this before. But my entire life changed. I have added new things, different things, good things but the bottom line is…I miss my life.