A new front door....and a new life?

I have made some changes in the house. Once I decided not to move and uproot us, I decided I needed to make the house "mine" rather than "ours". ie, it needed to be changed.  The dining room and hallway needed redecorating anyway, so I've started there, and yesterday my new front door was installed. Not only has it met my aim of making the house feel more secure, I am really hoping it will also help to stop the flash backs of the police standing at my old front door as I pull onto the drive. Time will tell on that, but I am hopeful.   Like everything in this new life I feel very mixed emotions. I am enjoying the freedom to make these decisions for me, without having to consider someone else's taste or opinion.  And each decision I make it gets easier to make the next one.  I am enjoying the boost to my self esteem as I prove to myself that I can make choices, and good ones at that. It is certainly helping my mental health.   However the flip side of the coin is that I feel tinges of guilt with every bill I pay.  It feels weird and wrong to be spending a lot of money on luxuries like decor.   That was never a priority for Mark, hence a lot of things really did need doing.  I realise now whilst I never felt coerced or controlled, I did submit to his preferences a lot of the time.  I was always the one to compromise.  If he didn't think spending money from the household budget on decorating was worthwhile, we didn't do it.  Or, I would save individually to pay for it myself out of my personal "treat" money.   So, it feels very strange to be spending a lot on this stuff.  Even though the household money and my money are now the same thing. When you've lived a certain way for many years, it's odd to change.

But change I am.   I am gradually letting go of the old life we shared and learning to embrace the new life he has left me with.   I'm at a crossroads. One road was the one Mark and I were travelling together, the other a new, different path which could lead me somewhere entirely different.  I think I want to walk the latter.  In fact, I know I do. 

I went to work on Tuesday as planned. I'm proud of myself for doing it, it was a big step and another hurdle vaulted over. It wasn't easy, and I wasn't at all glad to be there.  What it did is clarify for me that I don't want to return to that job.  I've lost all passion for it.  As I sat in my team meeting, listening to my line manager talk through the latest load of issues and mentally rolling my eyes because we just keep going round in circles and hitting the same problems, it dawned on me that I just don't care.  I'm not longer invested in the department, it's progress, the direction we are heading in.....the NHS?  I wouldn't go that far, but I just felt I've got bigger fish to fry.  I've got enough going on in my own life, I don't need or want to return to the stress of my previous role.  Just sitting there listening I had to focus on my breathing to avoid the anxiety lurking just beneath the mask spilling out and making itself known to the team. 

So I came home, and ordered the OU prospectus on psychology and counselling.  I want to retrain in counselling.  I've been toying with it since the week Mark died, put it to bed whilst I focussed on my own wellbeing and it has resurfaced the last couple of weeks. I've thought and prayed a lot about it and going to work confirmed for me that this is what I want.  A new path.  I have the means and the opportunity to retrain, so why the hell not?   It will take 4 years part time, starting in September, so 4 1/2 years from now I'd be qualified.  Good timing as then Oliver will be approaching the end of primary school, and be less dependent on me.  I am going to do it, that much is now certain.  So next decision is whether to return to my old job meanwhile, or quit altogether now and locum whilst I study.  I think the rational and sensible thing is to go back, at least for a while. I do feel I owe them that and really I can't base a decision to quit on one 2 hour visit 4 months into grief.  But, I've always been rational, sensible and "done the right thing" by others.  Maybe it's time to put myself first.  I am certainy rethinking my plan of starting my phased return next month.  I'm back to thinking wait 'til after the inquest.  But, on the flip side will it really be any easier then? Everybody is different and nobody can decide that for me.  I keep being told "do what is right for you".  With regards to returning to work....or not....I just don't know what that is.