A new section sees the day on Gerrit and the City under the name 'Lifestyle'. This will be a platform for me to talk about things that are dear to me other than national and international travel, for instance decoration! Those of you who follow me on Instagram know it already: I've bought my very own apartment in 2017. This blog post will be a digression from what you usually get to read over here, as I'll be sharing the very personal journey that lead me to that big step forward in life.
I was in a relationship for 6 years and in the last year we decided to live together. Those of you who follow me since the beginning surely remember the apartment we lived in as I shared with much enthusiasm the decoration of the different rooms. In May 2017 we went on a big city trip to New York, a city I had been dreaming about for years. After our return, I wrote three blog posts (here, here and here) to share my tips and impressions on the big apple as I always do after my travels. Except a major event happened while we were overseas: he decided to put an end to it.
Looking back I realize I must have been in a state of shock. I understood what happened, I was aware of the consequences but I couldn't deal with all the emotions involved. My brain took full control and I went on with things ignoring my feelings. Panicked at the idea of having no place to live (on top of being suddenly single again), I already started looking for a place while we were still in New York. After our return, I visited a first apartment which was fine but somehow just didn't feel right. A few days later I visited a second one and this time it was love at first sight.
That second apartment I visited just two weeks after my world crumbled down is the one I ended up buying and to this day I still feel immensely lucky for it. Things went so fast, yet they felt right all the way. This place had everything I had ever dreamed of: a distinctive architecture, high ceilings, a marble fire place, wooden floors... In other words, it had 'Gerrit' written all over it! The fact that I was the fortunate one to get it in the end consolidated my intuition that, although this breakup happened at the worst time and place imaginable, it was meant to be, written in the stars.
At the risk of sounding cliché, this life changing experience has thought me that truly good things can come from the bad; that some of the best things happen when you make a wrong turn; that you really grow from hurting like hell. Months have passed and I realize how lucky I am to be in this exact spot in life. My friendships have grown even stronger as I found amazing support and love around me. Although slightly neurotic at times, I have never felt more like myself. And of course I've made that big, adult step of becoming an owner, something I had been aspiring to for a while but didn't feel strong enough for.
In the end, I've come to think that my breakup is a wound. A wound that's healed, but left a scar. A scar that will maybe stay there forever. But that's fine. Scars are a testimony of us trying. Scars make us who we are. And in that sense, they're beautiful.