Endings

The woman who has cleaned my house nearly every week for the past six years is cleaning my house for the last time today. This is a weird milestone and one most people would probably not mark as significant. But to me, it feels like an end of an era. In these past six years, she’s grown into an Auntie, confidante, and friend. She was with me during my first pregnancy and subsequent grief, then pregnancy, birth of my son, loss of my first dog, divorce, pandemic, moving (twice), and so much life in between. She’s been my source of stability and comfort during these tumultuous times. No matter what life threw at me, I knew I’d have a clean home and someone I could count on each week. We became family in a way, and I will be forever grateful. But all things must end, and even though we’ll still check in during birthdays and holidays, it won’t be the same.

I’ve gone through a lot of endings in the past few years. My marriage, friendships, even standards in which I hold for myself and others. Endings are always marked by a period of fear and anxiousness, but I’ve found things to tend to end for a reason… even if that reason is hard to see at the time.

This blog will probably be coming to an end soon, too. Maybe it’ll be replaced with a substack that I keep threatening to start, or maybe my blogging and essay writing days will come to a close completely. I’m not sure yet. Endings without a plan don’t bother me the way they used to. All I know is it takes a lot of bravery to know when a chapter is ending. There’s a marked change in me. The girl with the quiet confidence is back and no longer afraid what people might think, but also self-assured enough to know I don’t need to share every opinion. This is so fucking freeing.

For the first time in a long time, I’m so proud of who I am and the life I’ve been creating, even if I’m not sure where it’s all headed.