I did something today that I’m proud of. I bought Sophie a bed from Ikea. What’s so significant about this seemingly small thing? A lot, to me.
Let’s put aside the fact that Ikea, with its display mazes and aisles of stuff, gives me major anxiety. But in years past, I never felt like I, alone, could buy furniture for the house. Perhaps it’s because I don’t assemble furniture and always needed help to transport or carry heavy items. I could never just buy a bed, bookshelf or whatnot.
So anytime Bryan and I bought furniture (mainly from Ikea), it was a joint venture. And every trip to that store was a major ordeal. He wanted to browse and I wanted to buy. And if we did buy, when would the assembly happen. There was always a debate about whether it would fit in the car. Or we’d disagree on which item to purchase. I’d eventually relent, and always walked out of that store with a raging headache and feelings of panic.
Fast forward to today. I’ve wanted to buy Sophie a nice bed with storage drawers for years. So I found the perfect bed at Ikea online and drove myself to the store to purchase it. I parked at the pick-up lot, walked through the exit (avoiding the entrance and subsequent Xanax-inducing maze), and went straight to the aisle where the items were located. I paid for my furniture and loaded the boxes into the car all by myself. I left Ikea without hassle, guilt or a headache, and drove home with the smell of wood furniture and cardboard boxes.
I wanted to buy a bed for my daughter. And that’s exactly what I did.