Getting Sentimental…

Saturday is upon us and several more showings are on the schedule. I need to leave the house spotless, immaculate, unlived in yet welcoming, inviting to a buyer who will hopefully see themselves in this garden we are leaving for them in this kitchen they will inherit, in this home I have made over the past 12 years.

And whenever I go outside and put my hands in the soil or trim a rose or pull up some rhubarb or hear our ducks quacking at me impatiently to bring them some chard from the raised beds, I am reminded of this being my home…the only thing I’ve ever known that has truly been mine. Mine to paint or dig up or renovate or turn up the music as loud as I want. My home.

While most of the therapy sessions I do are for me, occasionally my husband and I go in together and this past week, we decided to have a “prep for this massive life change” session, and it was so great to just talk about our evolution over the past 4-ish years since he left his home country to move here, and the past 12+ years I’ve lived in this house, and what it truly means to be buying a home together. And I finally blurted out, “even though we’ve been married 4 years, this is like we are REALLY getting married now!” Anyone know what I mean? Those who have been divorced might see where I’m coming from more, &/or those women who have been the primary breadwinner. When you’ve been a truly independent woman for this long, buying a home with someone is fucking huge. And scary.  I will say, those who have only done the old fashioned “get married, buy a house together (and get pregnant)” route may sympathize, but not truly be able to empathize because if you’ve bought a house on your own, you realize how GIGANTIC that is. Hell, I remember when I bought this house how many people had the nerve to say “why would you buy a house ALL BY YOURSELF?”, as if somehow as a single/divorced female I shouldn’t dare try to own property. It’s something men will never, ever comprehend (nor have asked of them), and something someone with a secondary income source (or a family member who helped you with the down payment) will also not truly understand. I did this, with no help, with nothing but the credit rating I’d worked my ass off to establish and the money I’d saved and the help of a good real estate agent and mortgage broker who made sure I was represented ethically and with genuine care about my best interests. No backup plan, just me and this house and the willingness to do whatever – and I mean whatever (multiple renters in the basement, living car-free for 8 years, selling prized possessions, etc.) – to keep this place. And it paid off.

So I’m sentimental. And sappy. So, so sappy. And with that I will continue to write about this journey and share with you what Home has meant to me here in the City of Roses…and what it will evolve to as we head to this lovely new piece of land near the coast…

PS – Know anyone who wants to buy a cute-ass house in PDX?

 

  One thought on “Getting Sentimental…

  1. June 11, 2018 at 8:14 am

    Dude. So much this. Like, Sunshine and I are REALLY stuck with each other now that we’ve done this house. Its fucking major, and frightening, and beyond my comprehension at the moment. So I totally get you. It ties me down to this place, with him, in a way that I have never felt tied down before. And I’m feeling some kind of way about it.

    So, you go right ahead and be sappy, and emotional; and you keep on writing about it. Because as I read your words, I feel you are speaking for me, and for any other woman who has gone from “independent single lady who don’t need a man for shit” to “we’re in this together and I’m not sure how that even happened”. And know that I am sending you all the virtual (((hugs)))

    Liked by 1 person

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