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When “ours” becomes “mine”


Over this last weekend I had a family member helping at the flat. Getting things ready for the move and referencing mine instead of ours caught me mega of gard. We were talking about the Christmas tree that is boxed up and whether it was coming with me or not.
A bloody Christmas tree reduced me to tears. People say it can be the simplest of things that may set off emotions. Well they were right.
There hasn’t been anyone at my place for months helping with the move so having someone there and referring to everything as mine set off all sorts of emotions that took the rest of the weekend to sort themselves out. And I’m under no illusion that they will surface there ugly heads again, and want to fight me for every ounce of inner strength that I have.
It wasn’t a problem getting rid of the “junk” that the hubby had kept in the flat. Me and his family had a right laugh at some of the stuff. But now to refer to it as my stuff, mine is a whole other way of thinking. For as much as my head has got round the fact that I am now a widow and longer a couple. Referring to it to other people makes me want him back more and more. We should be making the decisions about moving together. I shouldn’t be deciding what stays and what goes.

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