The Girl and I have just celebrated living in our house for a year.
One. Whole. Year.
I can’t believe how quickly 12 months have gone and I’m even more surprised at just how far I’ve come in that time.
I mean, my last post on here was July 2013 and reading it back makes me sad and if I’m being a truthful – a little mad.
Mad at myself for not seeing what I had right in front of me and for allowing how miserable I felt to consume what should have been a wonderful occasion for The Girl – she was so excited to have a new house, a new room, 2 new kittens and a garden – something she’d never had before and I let my overriding negativity tarnish that a little for her.
Moving here was a fresh start for the both of us and in hindsight I wished I’d allowed myself to see that moment in all it’s beauty.
But, hindsight is a wonderful thing.
I think about then and now and ask myself “am I still lonely?” and truthfully, yes, sometimes I am, but do I allow that feeling of being single and on my own define who I am, no I do not.
Do I still cry when The Girl goes to bed? No. I don’t. In fact, I couldn’t tell you the last time I cried until my eyes stung and I never thought I’d get there.
I look at how different things are for me now and I give myself a tiny high five for achieving it. I mean, I have my own home, my own mortgage, my own car and my own money and do you know what, I’m doing alright.
But more than that, I have The Girl.
I have a daughter who is growing up to be exactly the person I’d hoped – she’s beautiful, she’s polite, she’s kind and well behaved.
She makes me smile and laugh every single day and she makes me feel happy right to my very core.
She’s my wing woman and for as long as we’ve got each other, I think we’ll do just fine.