Freedom—in taupe leather

If any of you know me or have seen my status lately, you know I’ve recently purchased a couch for my apartment. I’ve spent a year with only chairs in my living room, so I’ve been very excited about getting this couch. For some of you, that may seem silly. Others of you understand that it’s more to me than just a piece of furniture to sit on.

While I was married, we never had any nice furniture. We both brought used furniture into the relationship, and even though it was old and dirty and worn and stinky (I’m told), it was never replaced. When we did have money, I had very little say in how it was spent. I spent most of my paycheck on bills and groceries. My husband, on the other hand, seemed to view bills as secondary. We never had the things I wanted, but we had plenty of things that he wanted. He and my son took up shooting as a hobby, and while I don’t resent the fact that they had something to do together, I did come to resent the fact that every available dime was spent on that hobby.

I rarely got nice gifts on special occasions. I rarely got any gifts at all. I was lucky to get a card and maybe a flower on birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Day, etc. I didn’t say flowers—just a flower. My husband would often apologize that he couldn’t afford more, yet he has several expensive guns. He has a truck “to fix up for fun” in addition to the car he drives and the car he bought for my son. True, he got good deals on them. But when did he ever look for a good deal on something for me? Except maybe for tires. To me, it seemed that it was a matter of priorities, and I wasn’t one.

I am expecting the initial divorce petition from my lawyer tomorrow, and as I sit here on my new couch, the thought runs through my head: “It might not have been absolutely necessary, but at least it’s not a gun!”

For the first time since I married, I decided what I needed, and what I wanted, and I went out and found it and I bought it. I didn’t feel obligated to ask anyone’s permission or opinion. I found my own good deal. And I love it, because it’s what I wanted. I deserve to have nice things, and to come first occasionally. Of course, my son comes first most of the time—as he should; but it is so good to be able to have my wants, and needs, and desires count for something.

I will never again allow myself to be dismissed, or ignored, or treated as if my feelings and my wants don’t matter.

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