In summer 2018 I moved to live with Master. This relocation brought to an end 27 years living in that particular home. A place I’d moved to as a young mother with the man I’d imagined I’d stay married to for life. I’d had a love hate relationship with the house. There were times when it was claustrophobic, and other times when I loved it. It also brought to an end the brief time I’d lived on my own for the first time ever. For Master it was the opposite, he’d been living alone for quite a few years and then there I was invading his space. Bringing my stuff.
In June 2018 I looked back over those 27 years:
“My husband was unfaithful to me within 2 or 3 years of our marriage. A relationship that continued for 7 years. After I found out and came to terms with the reality. After also the decision was made to continue with the marriage I made a deal with myself. Essentially I decided if, by the time my son (who was about 3 or 4 at the time) had grown up, I wasn’t happy, I would leave the marriage. For many years I forgot about it and just lived in the moment, it wasn’t as if we were always unhappy because we weren’t”.
“But the memories sat on my shoulder and every now and then something happened or words were spoken that reminded me. And one day soon after my son, now grown up, left for university I realised that the time had come”.
I wrote about the process of decluttering and packing:
I had just got rid of a LOT of CDs that I didn’t want. My ex declined to take any of them.
“It feels as if I am starting with the most difficult things first. Emotionally that is. for practical reasons I am beginning with the things i don’t physically need but tonight realised that this packing lark isn’t as straight forward as I imagined”.
“I have placed our photo albums and packets of photos in a pile. Much of that isn’t online anywhere and we will need to discuss who owns what. The CDs felt like an easy place to start. To some extent it is, he loves Motown, Whitney Houston, Barry White and so on. I have tastes that include The Beautiful South, REM and Robbie Williams. But there is significant overlap and so as I packed CDs I became incrementally indecisive”.
That’s the whole thing isn’t it. Splitting belongings isn’t really about who has this sofa or that table. It’s about the memories you’ve built together. My ex wanted practically none of those, and as someone who can’t throw them away I’m still stuck with boxes of CDs and more boxes of photos. I really should go through them again now and see if I can be a little more objective.
In the midst of the final few days in my house there was time for some fun.
This image and variations of it have featured since. That night we had some naughty fun in the garden in a way that wouldn’t have been possible had I been staying. As I mention in the post, I’d never before walked naked in the garden.
On July 26th I wrote:
“He and I have worn ourselves out this week. The temperatures have been stupidly hot and we have had no time to enjoy the weather. Tuesday went smoothly but at the end we were exhausted and I went back to work on Wednesday.
This weekend we can take stock. Unpack and properly get ourselves sorted. It will be a little while before I am ready to blog properly again. There is much I want to and will say, but not yet. However, we are here and we are here together. Our new life together has begun.“
So we began the process of reconnecting and working out what our relationship should be like now. As I wrote here:
“For him though, I can see this is about something a little more profound. As Master he wants his slave with him 24/7. He wants to be able to care for her and to have her there to use as he wishes. This weekend, I know he feels that his slave has arrived and from now on life can be as he wants it. We are both practical people, and neither of us are living in some kind of romantic dream world. But moments like the ones we had this morning when he was able to reclaim me in the way he wants and likes are important. There was no photo of that time and the one above is about as close as I can give right now.”
I think the emotional aspect of parting with “things” is hard for everyone. My parents have become hoarders because they just plain refuse to get rid of stuff — not because it’s useful or even because they “like” it, but because so-and-so gave it to them or because that’s the china that reminds them of their grandma or whatnot. I know I have a tendency to “collect” things — sometimes accidentally, other times intentionally — and I’m very wary of becoming too fond of my collections, because I already dread the eventual downsizing.