This house isn't a home.

I feel like I've built a life that I don't fit inside of. I built this life around my dog. I built my entire identity around being her mom. Everything from work and my daily routines to where we lived. She was with me most of my adult life. She's the reason I'm still here.

I don't think it was really my dream to be a homeowner. It was my dream to have a stable home for her, with her own yard. When we lived in our apartment I promised her that I would get her a yard of her own. Now I'm sitting in a house I bought for her. Because of her.
I'm sitting in a house that she won't be a part of, because she died. Now I'm sitting a house I thought was going to be our home, but instead I feel like I'm sitting in a life I don't recognize.

So now I have to figure out who I am while I embark on the next part of this journey without her.