It's a strange thing, settling into this new house. It occurred to me this was the first time I've actually chosen where I'd live, the first time I'd had the option to do anything other than take the only place left that fit my criteria. I've had the luxury of picking out new furniture. And though those are both very material sorts of things to celebrate, I'm not celebrating them for strictly material reasons.
I feel like a lot of my old life was fitting into the space that someone else chose for me. That moment in Cinderella, where the stepsisters cut off bits of their feet to stuff them in the glass slippers? That was what I'd been doing, just less bloody and more painful.
So I feel lucky right now. So lucky, that I have the chance to really look at my life, and think about the parts of it I want to keep and the parts of it I can say goodbye to. My skin fits.