You think I’m crazy. I’m sitting here watching (listening) to podcasts and playing a game and now I’m thinking about my Dreams post of a little earlier.

Looking at it from another perspective (maybe your’s) I’m sure you all think I’ve lost it. How in the world can a simple decision to sleep on a different side of the bed lead a person to see it as a life changing experience?

Here is the thing. Sometimes life changing has nothing to do with the size of the decision. Sometimes the decisions we wrestle with the most are inconsequential. In fact many of the ideas we hold on to with a death grip mean very little in the grand scheme of things.

The major shake up comes from the fact we made the change at all.

I had my little routine going on. The placement of all things important to me. Clock, hand lotion, tissues, position of the light switch. My dresser with drawers full of things belonging to me. Orientation to the room.

As I’m trying to find words to describe all of this in a sensible fashion an unwelcome but true thought is barging it’s way in.

I’ve always explained my reluctance away as a move that would deprive me of the conveniences I’ve enjoyed where I was.

Further thought has me realizing that it is about so much more than that and I haven’t been allowing the thought to materialize, never mind be honest about it.

I don’t need all the drawer space that comes with the furniture and from the beginning I’ve set the room up as a him and hers. This parts mine, this parts yours. I did make use of the space, mostly for craft supplies and such. Things that could be moved elsewhere if there ever was a “him.”

It all seems a little weird now because I didn’t expect there ever would be a reason to share this space. Although, there may be a subconscious part of me that wishes otherwise. Who knows.

Moving from my side to “his” side feels a little like moving into enemy territory.

The decision to change sides seemed to come from a different place this time.

A week or so ago there was a pivotal moment where I was able to let go and break free of the hold my childhood abuser had over me. It was a major break through. It looks like that event has affected me in ways I have yet to discover.

It seems I’m not (emotionally) sharing this house with anyone anymore. Finally I have accepted full ownership and view the house as all mine.

Reality is, it has always been mine. No one else has ever lived here, or has a history with the furniture or anything else. Something broken inside me couldn’t believe it.

The decision to change to the other side of the room seemed easy and inconsequential this time and yet there was a deep sense of excitement over possible life change and adventure. Having the conversation steer into this sober emotional place is unexpected. I’m not celebrating but I’m quietly happy about this new information.

So, back to the original intent of the post.

Sometimes it’s not the weight of the decision that’s important, it’s the fact that we made it at all.

In the end my decision seems simple but carries far more significance than I could have guessed.

Have you changed your crazy assessment of me yet?!?