The last of my new appliances were delivered today. Who knew the purchasing of new appliances would bring such an onslaught of feelings.
I recounted the last time I had new appliances delivered to my coworker.
I remembered that my ex knew they needed to be replaced — as in subfloor rotting out underneath the old fridge and the rusty stove only having three of five working burners, kind of replaced. That I had told him the refrigerator HE wanted was a few inches larger than our old one and that some of the counter would need to be trimmed to accommodate. I’d just do it myself now, but I digress. I remember them shoving it in anyway, and how it left a huge crease all the way across the width of it. And afterward my ex showing me how the fridge would get dented — because I picked out the wrong size — by opening it way too far and, you guessed it, denting it — right in the center of the door. It was not inside our home 10 minutes.
At first, when I had to stop at the four way just down from my new home because I was sobbing so hard I could no longer drive, none of this occurred to me. I like to think I’ve moved on. That somehow, I’m mostly done with the grieving and trauma that only occasionally haunt me. But alas, there it was, right at the edge.
My ex-husband got to know as much as he possibly could about me. But not to help me. Not to know and understand me better. Not so that he could be a better partner to me. No, he studied me like a cold-blooded predator so that he could poke at every flaw, and stick a salted finger in every wound. He pounced on every insecurity trying to ensure I was too weak to leave him and too ashamed to think I could do anything else.
He purposely ignored my requests to shave off the three freaking quarters of an inch of counter in order for “my” new appliance to fit where it needed to go. He purposely opened that door. He knew what he was doing.
I felt so deflated that night. Like it wasn’t even worth the hassle. Like I just should have let the old fridge fall into the basement. That night, was a nightmare. He was mad and it was my fault.
What had I done? I’d asked for nothing extravagant, nothing any family doesn’t NEED for the kitchen.
I understand now where the anxiety came from when my new appliances were delivered.
But they are EXACTLY what I wanted. I did not have to explain why I needed them. I did not have to justify how they would save money. I didn’t have to compromise on a color (although I think compromise is a good thing).
I suppose something or someone could dent them, but I can guarantee it’ll be because of cooking up a storm, or laughing so hard something dropped out of our hands. Or a dog accidently scratching it because we were goofing around doing things we “shouldn’t have been doing” in the house!
Much love, grace and peace,
Danene
Danene K. Shumaker 