When I first started blogging I promised myself that I would be honest and candid, and that I would expose myself and my experiences, but this one feels like a doozy to me. Here goes.

I haven’t slept in a bed since I’ve been divorced. Yep, not once. I sleep on the couch, and have for the last 8 years.

I know how fucked up that sounds. It seems seriously screwed up, right?! And I KNOW I probably need to log some time on the couch having this one analyzed.

But truthfully, I just love the couch.

Here’s the backstory. When I was getting divorced, we had to sell the house. I just couldn’t afford it on my own. No big deal, we hadn’t been in that house long. But it sold in 3 days, and the buyer wanted to close in three weeks. I had to divide a house, pack the house and find a place to live in a very tight timeline.

So I got strategic. I had the movers hold onto everything, took three months worth of belongings, and rented a furnished apartment while I looked for a new home. The apartment we rented had two bedrooms, which should have worked out fine because the kids could share a room and I could be in the other. But they were horrible together. After about a week or so of non-sleep, I put L in one room and G in the other. And I hit the couch. And we were in that apartment for almost a year.

I never looked back.

When we moved into our new home, all of the bedrooms were upstairs. Yet I gravitated to the couch on the first floor. It just felt safer to me. The couch makes me feel like there is someone at my back, which I like. I haven’t even bothered to see if I would like sleeping in my bed. I am laughing as I read this because, well, I mean seriously. My kids think it’s weird. I have a perfectly lovely bedroom with a comfy Queen-sized bed that essentially goes unused.

Maybe I’ll go back to a bed when I have someone to share it with. Until then, couch city, baby.

And this mama couldn’t be comfier.