I had never lived alone. I was one in a family of six growing up where arguing over the TV and the car were daily occurrences. Disagreements over bathrooms and phone use continued throughout my college dorm life. Following graduation, I returned to living in my parents’ house with their rules and regulations. After finding that elusive first job, I moved in with my future (ex) husband and the rest, as they say, is history. For my entire life, I had lived where everything was either a negotiation or a battle. I was suddenly faced with living by myself and I was both excited and terrified.

My own place! WOW! Everything that I wanted, no arguing about the neighborhood, the floor plan, the color on the walls. This home would be mine, all mine! I knew what I wanted: a minimum of 2000 square feet; large yard with pool; open floor plan with top-of-the-line kitchen; a private community in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. My Mom gently tried to suggest that I didn’t really need all of these things. I politely ignored her as my ego screamed, “I will not settle! I will have what I want!”  I met with my realtor, Andrew, who was a friend and also divorced. He showed me several properties that met my wants. Nothing quite seemed right. As I walked into each house, I felt oddly uneasy. The houses felt cold, the neighborhoods looked artificial, and the pools suddenly seemed like burdens. On the second day, Andrew stated matter-of-factly, “I know what you are going through, but you don’t want to be a divorcee in a big house with no kids in a neighborhood filled with families. Your lifestyle is going to change, you are divorced now.” Suddenly, everything I had always thought I wanted seemed foreign and strange.

“Your lifestyle is going to change…” I knew in my mind that things would change but I didn’t “know” it in my heart. I really thought I would just get on with my life as usual, albeit with my maiden name and new living arrangements. I took a leap of faith and decided to trust Andrew. He began showing me townhouses in smaller neighborhoods with a mix of older retired folks, divorced professionals, young married couples with kids and a few snowbirds. Unfortunately, it was a seller’s market and things got ugly fast. Week after week, I toured and re-toured properties, dragging my sister Trish along for moral support. Houses came under contract as I was looking at them and I got into bidding wars with other buyers, only to lose out to those offering more than the list price. Andrew was a saint – he kept me from going insane as each offer crumbled and he saved me more than once from making a horrible financial decision just so I could end the pain. “Something will come along”, he promised. Andrew called me at work one day, there was a new listing in a nice neighborhood but he didn’t think it would last long. The owner, he explained was a widower who had recently died. His children didn’t want the townhouse, as they already had their own vacation condos on the beach. The property was just sitting, empty and they wanted to get rid of it. I took an early lunch and we looked at the property. I wish I could say it was love at first sight, but it was not. The kitchen and bathrooms were dated and in need of new appliances. The walls and floors were clean but too neutral and needed some color. There was a small, screened in patio overlooking an overgrown fenced in yard. As I stood in this small space, it felt oddly familiar. The large houses with gourmet kitchens and manicured lawns in the exclusive double-gated communities were part of my old life. This townhouse was my new life. This was a house no one wanted, but it was well-built, in good condition and with a little tender loving care, it would shine…

I loaded all my belongings into a rented van, packed up my cats in my car and didn’t look back. I started unpacking as my cats cautiously explored the new surroundings, their heads bobbing with curiosity. Strangely, they settled in quickly, as if they had always lived there. That night as I lay in bed listening to the rain and thunder and the purring of sleeping cats, a gentle peacefulness fell over me. I was home.

If you are in the moving stage of your divorce, I offer these insights:

1. Your life is changing in many ways. Don’t be afraid to step outside the box.
2. A house is a building, a home is where your heart is.
3. Take time to make your new home your personal sanctuary. Fill it with inspiring and positive things.
4. And remember, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you find, you get what you need.”–The Rolling Stones.

Hugs & Hope,

Mary