Growing Pains

A few days before I went to Arkansas, James and my house was put on the market.

  (I signed the house over in the divorce- so I no longer have any rights to it.. But our system is so fucking fantastic- that my name remained on the mortgage- meaning that even though I have no rights to it, if James couldn’t pay the mortgage-  I would still be financially responsible for it.) We had agreed that whatever the house sold for we would split 50/50- profit or loss. 

Its funny, I haven’t lived in my house in almost a year, but when James told me that we had an offer on the house from the first (and only) people that looked at it (and that we were going to take it), I had such a crazy mix of emotions. I just wasn’t expecting to have to deal with it so soon. In the moment, I held on to “how much the house is worth” and “How much money we put into it” and the offer just didn’t seem like it covered all of that. After a lot of talking and crying (because I’m a big emotional mess over everything that changes in my life these days) I had to let it go- I have no rights to the house to actually fight anything anyway- and even if I did, what’s the point?

My sister-in-law had a good point, “Even if you got what you think the house is worth, would it make any difference?” 

The answer was an easy one.. 

No, of course not. 

It’s never been about the money for me. 

The truth of the matter is, that is my home. In all honesty, it is my first home. No, I don’t mean the first house I bought.. I mean, it is the FIRST place that has ever been my HOME. (I’m not saying that I didn’t have a nice place to live growing up.. but things in my life were really fucked up- and it was no one’s fault- it’s just how it was, maybe it was just my interpretation.) 

I remember the very first time I walked into that house. With the first step, this amazing feeling washed over me- and I knew in that moment that I needed to live there. It didn’t have the big kitchen that I said was a must, it didn’t have 3 bedrooms, it wasn’t in the town that I wanted to live in, it was a short sale... But it was my house.  All of that other stuff that seemed so important didn’t matter at all. We waited almost 6 months for our offer to be approved by the bank- and almost gave up on it towards the end when it seemed like we would never get an answer. But when we finally did get that approval, everything else went by in a flash... 

We had borrowed a friends’ trailer and started to pack our apartment into it.. and on the day of the closing, (which just so happened to be the absolute last day we could be in our apartment) our friend towed the trailer into our new driveway.  

And just like that.. we were home. 

In the four years that followed, every single decision from the color of the walls, the design of the kitchen, the appliances, the stupid plants and flowers outside... EVERYTHING was so thoughtfully decided. I mean it took me like a fucking month to pick my dishwasher! But it didn’t matter, you know? Because we were going to live there for a long time... if not forever. 

We started our own little traditions.. Pumpkin Carving Parties, Christmas eve with our entire families,  Etc... 

We redid the kitchen which was a complete nightmare... but when it was all done it was absolutely beautiful.. and everything that I could have ever wanted.. It was the first place that we lived where I actually attempted to make it homey.. pictures on the walls, etc.. 

And most of all, it was where our little family lived and loved. It was were Hydro lived his last days- where the blood spatters from his forever busted up tail still stain the walls... 

So when someone walks into my home, and expects and is going to get ALL of that... for the same amount of money that we paid..  Someone who has no fucking idea what those four walls mean to me... it makes me fucking angry.

 Because the last sacred thing that we had together (in my eyes- which is why I didn’t want any other “people” in my house...) is just a possession. It doesn’t mean a fucking thing... does it?

Nothing can replace the memories and feelings that I have tied to it. And even though it makes me incredibly sad right now, I know that I will always have those to hold on to...  and they will bring happy memories in time.. 

So the reality is.. Yes it is about the house.. but its more about a complete loss of everything that I ever held dear.. My best friend and partner, family, people I considered my friends.. I have literally lost almost every.single.thing. that has ever meant anything to me. 

And for those friends/family that have really showed up and have been there for me during all of this.. you really have no idea what you mean to me.. and how grateful I am to have you in my life. 

The closing is April 10... 

I know that in the end it is the best thing for us to do.. to take this offer.. to get the house off of our hands.. But man.. I wish it didn’t hurt so much.. I wish I could let go of all of the things that make me feel so abandoned; so disconnected; so replaced. 

I wish I could stop feeling... I wish I could move on as easily as everyone else has. I just wish I could stop...