A chapter of my life is coming to an end...

It was Christmas day, 2002, when I announced to my parents with gusto that I was going to buy my own place the following year. 23 days later and I was signing the contract for my very own property, a two-bedroom unit in the leafy Melbourne suburb of Bentleigh. I didn’t waste any time!

Five years later and the walls of that unit had seen some great (and not so great) times. It had been the location for many girlie get-togethers over wine and chocolate, the cool escape from the devastating “Black Saturday”, and the safe haven during lonely times when it seemed I would never find the right man for me.

Fast-forward two and a half years and much has changed. Married with a beautiful boy and living in a different state, we have now decided it is time to sell.

My battle has been that I am fiercely independent. Give me a toolbox and a drill and I’m a very happy lady. Got a leaky tap? I’ll change the washer for you. Need a door re-hinged? Pass me the screwdriver. Without a man to help me with these things, I’ve had to rely on myself and no one else. This is why I am so proud of what I have accomplished. Owning my very own place before I was 30! It was mine! All mine!

I guess I’m struggling with the shift in my identity after I sell my unit. I was a successful career woman with her own home, and now I’m a stay at home mum. What am I contributing? Dinner on the table? Clothes washed and ironed? Nappy-change service? Like I said in one of my earlier posts, You Are Not Your Job, I know I’m so much more than those things, but it’s still a constant battle in my mind.

As my husband says, if we want to pay off our mortgage in 8 -10 years (rather than the average 25-30), then selling my place has to happen. There you go then! I’m responsible for taking 17 years off the ball and chain that’s strapped around our bank balance!

THAT’S what I’m contributing!

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