Take II

For the last few months, there has been one question on my mind:“Why will this time be different?”

How will moving in with this person be different than when I moved in with the last person? The answer is easy, right? I’m moving in with a different person! But what if I was the perpetrator? What if it’s not about the other person but about me? I’m packing the same baggage so the questions still stands, “Why will this time be different?”

I considered seeing a therapist. We will get to the bottom of this. We will dig through the history and find the answers. But I kind of wanted to DIY it. So I just thought. And thought. And kept peeling off the skin on my thumbs, the worst nervous habit EVER. And thought.

Let’s back up. In 2006 when I moved in with and married my ex-husband, I had expectations. They were high- like going from Kansas to Oz high. Things weren’t bad but I thought when I moved into his place, they would be infinitely better. I would feel like I belonged better. Like we loved each other better. Like rainbows and puppies in my heart better.

But they weren’t better. They were the same. And the same felt like a failure. We were confined to a 700 square-foot home. No space. And no rainbows or puppies.

I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. I thought I would feel more accomplished. More validated. Wasn’t this relationship what I had been “working toward” for the whole dating portion of my life, between the ages of 16-30? Instead of complete, I felt cramped. And lost. And oddly alone in this disillusionment.

This time, I know better. We’re starting fresh and getting a new place together. Both moving. Both knee deep in boxes and bubble wrap. This time, I know who I am and I’m not looking for change. I’m looking for the same, just more of it. More cooking at home. More parties. More falling asleep drooling on the couch. More music. More inventions. More bacon. More bits. More us.

And this time, I’m bringing the rainbows and puppies with me.