Sometimes, it takes a 20+ year old movie to get me thinking about how I'm living my life right now.
Recently, I challenged an old rule that went something like this:
In violation of that rule, one afternoon, I looked at my front entryway, and decided that although I'd been told that it was "impossible" to have a small lamp and a small table in the entryway because we HAD to keep a really ugly 1930's vanity there, AND there was simply NO WAY that an extension cord could be tacked along a baseboard to an outlet on another wall... too complicated, too impossible... it was time to have that entry the way I wanted.
- one trip to the thrift shop to donate the ugly mirrored vanity,
- one trip to the hardware store for a couple of needed items,
- one trip to TJMaxx for a lamp,
- a little time spent crawling along the baseboard with some cable tacks and double-sided tape... and voila! rule broken. No trips to the emergency room. No martyrdom, and nothing bolted to the wall with 80-lb capacity molly bolts, centered precisely using four kinds of levels... RULE BROKEN
The dream (well, waking it up from it, anyway), my realization that I could indeed "take my half out of the middle" of my king-sized bed, my adventures in decorating, and my heedless foray into the trackless jungles of Windows 8 are all wobbly-kneed moments of realizing over and over, and sometimes with tears, that I am freer than I realize.
And I am definitely wobbly: just like the day after Andre's memorial service when I removed my wedding rings, just like the day I spent with a dear friend, cleaning out Andre's clothes closet and emptying his dresser. I'm free, but I'm unused to being this free, and it's a little scary and a little lonely. There are times when I am holding in one hand the memory of how awful it was to live in the prison that was my marriage, and weighing it against strange comfort of the predictable, if confining and painful security of my previous life. It's in those moments, I feel like that character from another movie, The Shawshank Redemption, the character who simply can't handle freedom after being in prison for so long, and eventually returns. I think there have been some times lately when I've wished for a way to return.
I won't return, though, not to that life, and I know that eventually I will learn to live here on the outside, and learn to revel in my freedom.
For now, I'll start with moving ALL the pillow shams, and turning down the WHOLE edge of the covers, and climbing into the middle of my king-sized bed.
To sleep, perchance to dream... I'm hoping the dreams get better from here.