The dress. The Airstream. The lie I lived.

My divorce left me with two relics: a wedding dress and an Airstream. As well as an avalanche of emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to touch.

Two symbols of a life I thought I wanted.

Two anchors holding down emotions I hadn’t let myself feel.

The Airstream was a dream I had a few years after the wedding. I imagined traveling, working remotely, living wildly. After several thousands of dollars, sweat, tears, and a second child later, the Airstream was ready. But getting a “real job” took precedent over the nomadic lifestyle, so we moved into a house in the suburbs. Because that’s “what you’re supposed to do.”

After the divorce, I put both the dress and the Airstream in storage. I told myself I was keeping them for practical reasons. That someday I’d sell them. That maybe they’d be worth something.

But really? I was unconsciously trying to make it all seem worth it.

When I got divorced, I unknowingly put armor on my heart. To be able to make it through the process of that decision; to protect me from grief, confusion, immense indignation, and from showing anyone that I was feeling anything other than absolute certainty. To not show my hand during deliberations. Because that’s “what you’re supposed to do.”

I’ve made attempts to sell both of these tokens of a life I’d once dreamed of, but they continue to sit in storage, collecting dust...

I posted on RV Dealers, put paper ads up, posted on Facebook Marketplace, and even did a full moon ritual around selling the Airstream for a dollar amount that would feel worth what all I’d put into it.

I began to question “What is really getting in the way of releasing this Airstream?”

I wondered if there was some sort of energetic (emotional) block to this. As spiritual girlies do, I asked the new moon to bring me messages of clarity.

Oh. My. God.

It dawned on me. It wasn’t just clutter. It was grief in the form of fabric and metal. A silky symbol of every time I’d abandoned myself to be agreeable and to make someone else comfortable.

One phrase kept echoing in my mind:

"It was worth it… right?"

Part of me needed it to be. But deep down I knew it wasn’t.

And when I finally stopped trying to justify the past, a shocking thought came in like lightning.

A thought I never expected to have. A thought that would change everything.