Depending on where you are at in the divorce process, you’ve likely noticed how difficult it is to move along to your new life. Letting go of old, stagnant ideas and making room for new, beautiful ones is a good place to start.
A New Year’s Eve tradition in southern Italy speaks of letting go to make room for something new. Custom dictates that individuals part with an item, usually a possession. These old items are tossed out the window, and the last day of the year is one of decluttering and releasing. Ergo, the first day of the New Year becomes the day with some freed-up space for that new end table, bookcase, or trinket.
Certainly, it must feel good to get rid of old, unwanted things. It sounds easy in terms of possessions, but in terms of releasing crippling memories and bad moods that have taken root, this is an entirely different story.
During my divorce, I had to say goodbye to my house and a few other possessions. The sound of my bread maker often sent me spiraling downward. For that was the sound of family, daily breakfasts, and the smells of home. My house had memories both good and bad that caused regression.
It was time to clean house and welcome in the New Year.
How I Said Goodbye
I wrote a letter to my house, requesting that it set me free and to serve as a reminder of the work I had ahead of me. Your letter of release will most likely look different from mine.
Dear Lovely White House on 18th Street, please do not speak to me anymore. Don’t look at me. Don’t call out to me. Tell your lovely landscaping, from the lilac bush on the corner, to the prairie grasses I planted two years ago, to avert their eyes, and turn away. I don’t belong to you anymore.
Tell your new owners to water the maple tree, and cut down the hostas, but keep the seeds, to plant in the spring. The bisque fridge should be replaced. Twenty years old, it is rather unfashionable.
The little boys are at the door, tripping on feet, running to the park. He and I are there too. Seated in the screened-in-porch, espresso in hand. I feel the presence of my former self, in the house we built. He and I, there again.
Fighting. Pleading. I’m asking him to stay. To be different. To love only me. He left.
And so must I leave the lovely, lovely white house on 18th Street, Good-bye to you. You served me well, but now, I must be free.
Finding Freedom
Entanglements come in all shapes and sizes: unhealthy thinking patterns, bread makers, bedroom furniture, Christmas tree ornaments, screened-in porches, and lovely white houses on 18th Street.
We do well to clean house and rid ourselves of unnecessary weight. Entanglements and entrapments belong in the dump!
Along the Mediterranean, in southern Italy, on New Year’s Eve, a grandmother, a son, a mother, teaches us how to do just this: toss your baggage right out the window. Let it go.
Let 2019 be a year of living lighter, replacing stagnant thoughts and bad memories with new and beautiful ones.
Paula Nilsen is an author, blogger and freelance writer. Her book Hello New Life encourages readers to move along and to find healing. She is a certified life coach, equipping people to deal with loss and to overcome adversity. When she isn’t writing, reading or studying, Paula is traveling. She especially enjoys returning to Scandinavia, where she grew up. Her two grown sons and daughter-in-love are her ballasts and the loves of her life. Learn more about her book at paulanilsen.com.
… How can a person move on if they’re writing such a deep “letter” to their former place of living? … How can someone move on if they keep addressing this?
All respect given to this writer because she had to go through a bad divorce, like we all have here or are going through it currently, but that is not sound advice in my opinion. This brought on bad feelings for me, Divorcemag, thinking about my former house and family life. Not going to help most people going through this.
– DB
Hi Doris.
Everyone grieves differently. For me, writing is cathartic — it allows me to feel my pain and then move throughs those feelings to the other side. Like the previous commenter (Luisa) suggested, after writing the letters, I have often burned them. This may sound a bit simple, but I have found it to be true: what you feel, you can heal.” Every time I have stuffed down grief or anger, the feelings and memories attached to the feelings keeps coming back until the emotions are finished with me. So you can shorten your grieving process by allowing yourself permission to really feel — in an appropriate place, like in the privacy of your own home — to sob, to yell, to wail, and then let go of the feelings in the quiet after the storm of emotions.
But like I said, everyone grieves differently, and this may not work for you. But please find something (or someone) that does help, because everyone deserves to heal and lead a good life after divorce.
A difficult road to follow In my personal thinking, writing a letter is only good if I then bury it, or burn it. Some way of getting it off my chest then never to be seen or thought of again. Otherwise I would have a diary of painful memories to walk through over and over again.
Hi Luisa.
I think burning the letter is a great idea — I have used this in the past to help me let go of painful emotions and memories. I find putting all the anger, pain, grief, and even hatred down on paper, sobbing or even wailing aloud (in my own home, NOT my workplace!), and then burning the letter when I feel calm again very helpful to letting go and moving on. Everyone’s grief process is different, however, so this may or may not work for someone.