I popped the cover on the can of primer and began painting the hallway of our apartment today. He didn’t want me to paint, I knew it. But I’ve been on Pinterest a little too much lately and was determined to give our home a facelift.
“Ugh, I hate painting.”
Which he totally does and I’ve accepted. Almost 4 years ago I decided that I wanted to paint the entire apartment. And by entire – I do mean every.single.room. And by I, I do mean we – he caved and helped me paint – though he hated every second. But I was facing some time off from work and I had deemed this my summer project.
So he (kind of) graciously obliged.
” *sigh* I really don’t like that color.”
He doesn’t like change much.
To say he’s a creature of habit would be a gross understatement. But I don’t complain because I’ve grown to love routine and habit as well. The only difference is I have an obsession with home decor and am always looking for ways to get my vision to come to life. He on the other hand is incredibly picky. Nothing traditional; nothing too bold; nothing too modern; nothing rustic; nothing that looks ‘old’ – and the list goes on. Oddly enough, the first time we painted – he actually liked every color, but the purple I chose for our bedroom – which he now doesn’t mind.
” *sigh* I’m really going to miss the green.”
And just like that I was transported.
See, I’m a bold color kinda girl. I have always loved painting rooms in rich dark/bold colors. Possibly because my entire life prior to living on my own, consisted of my mother painting everything in pastels. But given that he doesn’t do really bold colors, I hedged my bets on this particular shade of green. Now I’m not normally a green fan, but there was something about this shade that caught my attention and it was my happy medium between bold and anything-but-pastels.
And he loved it.
But let’s back step a little. His comment about missing the green hit me with a ginormous wave of nostalgia.
Since my big apartment makeover 4 years ago, so much has happened. So much has changed.
I was broken.
I mean physically and emotionally – broken.
During my apartment makeover in the summer of 2013, I found out that I would be heading in for surgery on my neck. A benign lump that was discovered in 2011 had grown to the point it was beginning to press on my windpipe and needed to be removed. Given the impending surgery, we began to speed up the painting process – finishing the last room a mere day or two before I was to be admitted.
Because 3 weeks later I was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer. No warning. No chance to prepare. Nothing.
Our lives were shaken and quite literally turned upside down.
Here in this apartment I recovered from two almost back to back surgeries. I was dealt news that the cancer may have spread to my lungs – two weeks before that Christmas. I recovered here. I began university that January (2014), driving lessons, and a full time job – all before getting clearance from the surgeons and doctors. I juggled those things, along with pursuing photography while attempting to adjust to life without a thyroid gland – what a silly concept that was! I failed to realize I wasn’t superwoman. Fast forward – between then and now – I got engaged to my best friend; had a massive fall out with my family; was in a car accident with Vic which took us off work indefinitely (financial nightmare) while trying to recover from injuries they tell us will never truly go away; and was diagnosed with depression – that’s the 10 second version.
And through it all – I recovered here.
Here in this green living room.
I slept on the couch as I recovered from surgeries. I cried myself dry on the came couch when I thought I was facing lung cancer at the age of 28. I wrote a letter to Vic as I struggled through the worst stages of my depression – right here surrounded by these green walls.
I begged for my old life back every day of the last 3 and a half years.
Looking at these green walls.
The green walls I began painting over today.
I choked back the tears and contemplated repainting it green.
Because as silly as it sounds – these green walls and this apartment – we’ve been through a lot. The best and worst days of my life happened here. And although it’s only a paint color – I sit here with my laptop looking at the untouched walls wondering if I made a mistake. Wondering if I can once again find comfort in my soft green walls instead of feasting on the need to make them go away.
The photographer in me cringes because it truly is a nightmare to photograph with a green reflector surrounding me – but the woman in me finds comfort in this sweet haven we have created here. I find comfort in our little bubble. When so much of my life has already changed so drastically, I wonder if this is something that really needs to change too.
Here’s to seeing what tomorrow morning brings . . .