ONE YEAR LATER
A year ago last month, Henry and I officially bought our first house together. We’d already packed our entire lives up and left NYC, quit our jobs, had many fights, were really at our wits’ end. It wasn’t pleasant, leaving NYC. Honestly, it was awful. It had been my home, my lifeline, even, for over ten years. Henry was a born and bred New Yorker. If my heart was hurting, I still can’t fathom how his felt (and feels), leaving all of that behind. In the moment, it felt like a mistake. It felt like a jump into a void, having absolutely no idea which way was up or down, where we’d end up, how we’d end up… it was very messy.
You see, Henry and I had been functioning in crisis mode for the last four years of our marriage. The fights never stopped, there was rarely a moment of happiness or joy between us, just a lotttttttttt of stress and bullshit. When we got married, we both looked into each other’s eyes, held hands, and made very serious promises to each other. I promised him, and he me, to never walk away, no matter how difficult things were. Folks. Things were difficult. Most people in today’s society think that relationships should fall together naturally and don’t understand (maybe even aren’t willing to understand) that you have to WORK when you choose to join in a relationship with another person. I’m thankful that Henry is willing to put in the work, even when he and I truly loathe each other. We are both highly motivated individuals, and are also stubborn as hell. Thank the Lord for that, otherwise there would have been a divorce a long time ago, maybe Maxine and Imogen wouldn’t even exist.
Moving to Cincinnati felt like a huge mistake. It felt like I was leaving behind all of the community I had created to hold me up and support me when I couldn’t depend on my husband. Moving to Cincinnati felt really scary, because I was leaving behind my own personal business, knowing I would have to build a clientele from nothing, which is hard enough at a regular season of life, but even harder when I now had three littles four and under, who wholly depend on me for everything. Moving to Cincinnati felt like the most isolating thing I could do, freshly postpartum, struggling to feed Imogen, having no real physical health or outlets to get back to ‘me’ in the gym. But when Henry and I decided we would leave NYC, it was so that we would NOT separate, so that we would continue to be together as a family, so that we could learn how to thrive instead of drown.
In the last year, I have discovered a way to love Henry more thoroughly, prioritizing clear cut communication, doing my best to eliminate assumptions and the emotions that come alongside them. I’ve been forced to work extremely hard on loving myself, when I had absolutely no desire to do so. I had to wake up and not only choose me, but choose to let my husband support me. It was brutal. I did not want to trust him or let him in. Trusting him after years of being forgotten by him was one of the hardest choices I could have ever made. But man, God is good and I have been rewarded. Henry and I are not perfect. We are still making mistakes daily, but the difference in those mistakes is that we now approach them with grace and empathy instead of resentment and judgement.
Over the last year, Henry and I managed to come close to financial ruin, only to be looked on by an angel and graciously given a second chance. We learned that mushrooms growing in your basement isn’t a cool perk, it’s a sign that mold is alive and well in your home (love it, so happy about this lesson, ugh). We also figured out that having your basement flood is a great way to BE REALLY FRICKIN MAD ALL DAY LONG. We learned that giving the girls a backyard over concrete sidewalks was salvation for them. We discovered how to work together to take care of our yard and gardens (yes, Henry accidentally weedwhacked all of my spring plants, and also yes, I made permanent holes in our yard from too many stone to shoulder in the same spot). The girls learned that exercise equipment can be dangerous, air ducts make really fun spots to drop all of mom’s knitting notions, and that stairs are great until you fall down them (yikes). Stag has discovered his inner murdering side, and kills multiple wild animals a day, while Delilah sits inside, turning into a chonk. We all miss walking to all of our favorite restaurants and coffee shops, we miss the neighborhood friendly faces, we miss our family. But we are, for once, all happy. And while I’m shocked that I get to type that sentence, I’m also aware that I’m extremely blessed. And thankful, so thankful.
Okay, Cincy. Let’s keep this train rolling.