When The Fella moved in to Le Petite Maison, people thought we were crazy. I mean, it's about 300 square feet (that might be an exaggeration. It might actually be more like 250) and we are two people, sometimes two people and a Wee One. And a cat.
"You need to MOVE," was the refrain I kept hearing.
And I kept saying, "No, no I don't."
There were a bunch of reasons for me not to want to move, if by "reasons" I mean "excuses." I could rattle them off very quickly.
"This apartment is so affordable!"
"I have a waterfall outside and I love it!"
"We never fight! It doesn't bother us!"
"Moving is such a drag!"
The biggest reason -- the real reason, the one that wasn't an excuse?
I was scared.
Before I was homeless, I gave up my apartment and moved in with some people I had trusted, who bailed after two weeks. In addition to causing me to be without an address, this also caused me to question my judgment about many, many things. When I settled into this apartment, I was determined to stay put, possibly forever.
But if life also hands you tests, it also hands you gifts. I had to go through there to get here, and here? Is filled with amazing things. I love it here.
I love it here, but I was still scared. What if I gave up my sanctuary, the one I could afford all on my own, and it all ends? What will I do? Where would I go?
So we stayed put.
And we stayed put.
Two weeks ago, our hot water tank went and our house was filled with water. It was not a huge disaster, but it was a mess and it took two days to get everything dried out and put back together. Our tiny house was a cluttered, crazy, smelly wet mess and its smallness was, for the first time, really bothersome.
The maintenance guys said, "You know, the unit down the hall is empty and open, if you need hot water. You can go down there if you need to."
So at some point, The Fella and I went down the hall and opened the door into what might literally be the apartment of my dreams.
In two weeks, we're moving into the new apartment.
You might be wondering why I let go of my fear. The truth is, I still kind of have it. I might always have it.
But I also know this: the most beautiful things can be born of horrible things. I got to this place in my life, the place where I am the happiest I have ever been, because I went through some awful things.
I found an apartment I love because my water tank created a major mess in my house.
And every time something bad happens? I survive and find that I'm better for it. As a result, living in fear is stupid. I trust The Fella. I always have.
So now, instead of MY space? We're going to create OUR space.
Don't worry, I'll share pictures.