David and I got an entire new office set now that we have a place that is actually meant for an office. He got a big hutch, office desk and return. It's huge and suits him well. I, on the other hand, just got a desk with some drawers. I don't use my desk all too often and when I do, I don't need one that is very big. It's the first desk I've owned since I was in high school that wasn't bought from a garage sale or handed down from a friend who didn't need it anymore.
Over the past few years, David has worked from home. He has therefore made the office a place suited for him: files things wherever he files them, pays bills in his own special way, keeps notes on 9 different notepads all over the office. The office has been his room. And subsequently, all of my files have been mixed in with his. My bills became filed collectively with his. So when I realized that the bottom drawer of my new desk doubled as a small filing cabinet, I felt a huge sense of excitement bubble up from within me. I immediately began sifting through the files in "our" filing cabinet and pulling out things that just belonged to me. My bills, my doctors' records, my birth certificate. It occurred to me that these little things were something that I had always taken care of and slowly, over the course of 5 years, they became less mine. Now, do I mind that David takes care of paying all the bills on time? Not at all. But having these files in my desk suddenly makes me feel a little more independent, a little more important, a little stronger. And after a move across the country to a city you've never lived in with no real friends and with in-laws expecting you to feel at home and get a job, every little bit of "stronger" helps.