LIFE ADJUSTMENTS
When my marriage ended, I was in the thick of it. This was not where I envisioned myself to be at my age, this was not part of the grand plan, this was not meant to be happening. But it was.
Not long after we agreed to separate, I decided to purchase an apartment in the city. A new build was taking shape just a block away so it was already on my radar. Leaving the marital home was a huge deal for me. I loved our house. Loved it. But after doing my sums, I knew that there was no way I could afford to stay there on my own, never mind have the physical capabilities to look after a 140-year-old cottage and all that entails. I’d never considered living in an apartment as we have a dog but after the real-estate agent said they’d made allowances for small dogs, the idea seemed somewhat plausible. It was going to be tight, just 58 square metres, but I thought it would be big enough for me and my girl, there were hefty incentives to buy off-the-plan and if I got in early I could make some design decisions and that really appealed to me.
They told me 12-18 months for the build so I negotiated to stay in the cottage with my husband – albeit in a room of my own – during the construction. I reasoned that this would give me a chance to save and strengthen my financial position, it would give me time to plan what I would need for the move, but also time to accept I was going to be moving out.
In retrospect, staying in the same house together was quite possibly the most stupid thing I could have ever done. I guess I was scared of accepting the situation and moving on with my life. While we were in the same house, there was still a connection between us – albeit an unhealthy and fractured one. Just when I felt like I
