I had a realization yesterday that shook me to my core: I’m actually starting to believe that I’m going to live in the farmhouse.
As I told my partner, up until this point, it was a fun thought experiment, but in the back of my mind, I fully expected Something to Go Wrong. Because it always has before. I have learned to not trust a course of events that included any sort of planning and effort until it was happening, because I’ve been disappointed so many times.
But yesterday, he undid a lot of old wiring, rewired the living room lights, got a huge start on the bedroom lights, and after a miswired switch, he actually fixed it right then and there, and…
…I started to believe. A little light came shining through my wall o’ trust issues. And I cried.
I hadn’t even realized that I didn’t believe it yet, and moreover, I hadn’t realized that my wall o’ trust issues extended this far. I was crying for the girl I used to be, that could easily believe something planned would happen as planned. I am heartbroken for her, and guilty because I didn’t protect her better. I let “this is the way it is” overrule all sense for too long.
But y’all. I’m going to live in the farmhouse. I’m going to live in the farmhouse. I’m going to live in the farmhouse. It’s real. And it’s happening. I’m healing. And I’m thrilled.