Five years later

It kinda freaks me out that it’s the fifth anniversary of my marriage ending.

It feels like a lifetime ago … and yesterday … both at the same time.

Five years.


Every week, the distance between us grows that little bit wider. We’re still in frequent contact due to the demands of parenthood, but we’re also slowly becoming strangers.

To be honest, that process started before the marriage ended. We were just two people who shared a house and two children. We’d forgotten how to communicate and we’d lost the will to try.

My ex left virtually everything behind when he walked away, both people and possessions.

All he took were some kitchen utensils, towels, sheets and his clothes.

I sometimes wonder how it felt to suddenly have a new extended family, a new child at the dinner table, new friends, a new home, a new partner beside him in a new bed.

The difference wasn’t so extreme for me. I stayed in contact with his family and most of our mutual friends. I’m still surrounded by familiar furnishings and accoutrements.

Well, I am pondering whether to get rid of the art deco lounge suite that we bought together during the early years of our co-habitation, from a antique store on Parramatta Road at Camperdown.

It was a perfect fit for the first home I bought, in Petersham (above).

The suite was brown velvet and smelled of dog. We could only get the smell out by completely restuffing and recovering it. It’s actually been recovered twice over the years. We hung onto it because it was so solid and comfortable.

“They don’t make lounges like they used to,” we’d often agree.

The lounge suite sits in my back room now. The fur babies are the only ones who snuggle on it, so it probably smells of dog again. The youngest never goes out there because she’s allergic to either the dogs or the lounge or both. The eldest mainly mooches in their bedroom. Most of my leisure time is spent in the kitchen/family room.

I’m thinking about clearing out the dust, the dogs and the lounge suite from the back room – the youngest wants to turn it into her light-filled bedroom instead of the tiny space she currently occupies off the garage.

Hence my pondering about the lounge’s fate and my exploration of the sentimentality towards it. Part of me thinks its wasteful to throw away a perfectly good couch just because it no longer fits in.

It has also been mine for longer than my husband was.

Does that matter? Lately, I find myself assessing so many things in my life and trying to decide if they still have a place.

I’ve never seen the infamous Japanese organisation guru Marie Kondo in action, but I’ve heard about her philosophy: that you should ask yourself if your possessions “spark joy” and if they don’t, you should chuck them.

I’m feeling like it shouldn’t just be worldly goods. There’s a yearning to free myself from aspects of my past – and present – that still weigh me down.

There aren’t sparking joy, just guilt and anxiety and sadness.

Perhaps it’s time to spring clean my life?

Song of the day: M People “Moving on up”

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