Driving back from the apartment yesterday I got hit with Feelings. I was tired and sore and discouraged and suddenly absolutely believed I'd made a horrible disastrous mistake.
This morning I went next door and talked to my step-daughter about all the mixed emotions. We've often talked about the loss of her Dad four years ago, and our shared journey of grief and recovery, supporting each other in our efforts to move on.
I realized that moving out of the home we'd literally built together felt like I was letting go of him taking care of me. I cried, and I felt better. And I also realized that while we were talking, she was smoking and it didn't tempt me at all.
And later today, the open house produced one older couple who loves my house and said it was everything they're looking for.