It’s My House, I Live Here

When I’m upset and at my wit’s end, I want to make drastic changes. Feeling trapped because you made bad choices and stayed where you weren’t wanted? Let’s fix it by fleeing to another state. The only way to heal is by putting several hundred miles in-between. Sounds great. Let’s apply to jobs and find new construction to dream about. Luckily, the lone practical inner voice reached out for advice. Major change should derive from desire, not fear. I stayed put and started to search for my healing house.

I didn’t want a house for equity, tax benefits, to fulfill a dream, or for the adulting BINGO card. I needed a place to start over. There wasn’t an apartment better than what I had and on my mother’s advice I considered buying something. I knew nothing about that process and that’s a big commitment. You can’t break a mortgage like a lease. With disappointing rental options, I decided to give the housing market a try.

I found my realtor via my therapist; fellow Aggie alumna have held me down. Picked a lender and perused the MLS. My heart was set on a new construction community, where I would have a garage and the front door didn’t open into the main living room. But the price and earnest money kept changing. Then they decided that bathtubs were no longer an option, every unit would have showers only in the master suite. I’m not buying a house and can’t even soak my feet!

One Friday evening I was casually scrolling the MLS and there was a new listing. Inside: two living spaces on the first floor, a garage, and three bedrooms. It checked every box. I was in shock, it seemed to have fallen out of the sky and into my lap. By Sunday morning my offer was accepted. I knew it was mine as soon as I saw it. I wasn’t sure what I had done to deserve that level of favor but I was immensely grateful.

Anxieties set in quickly. Would expenses swallow all my money leaving nothing for travel or pole? Would I later realize I made a huge mistake? What if the perfect job popped up and I’m stuck? I had to repeatedly tell myself to not give in to negativity and everything would work out because it always does. I set up pillars for my new home: beauty, comfort, and vivid living. I had a space that was mine and mine alone, that could fully reflect me. I struggled with the idea of being proud of myself, I could appreciate that I did a big thing. This was a new, uncharted part of my life.

A week after moving in, I decided that my new place was my healing house. Not just from my relationship but from how unkind I had been to myself over the years. I was so sad and shattered when I moved in. I’ve faced my darkness and discontent in this house. I’ve laid in the floor and cried when I’m overwhelmed by various types of grief. Learned what triggers my anger and procrastination. The majority of my therapy sessions take place at my kitchen counter. I’ve consoled myself when my pole performances were subpar. I’ve slowly gotten rid of things that remind me of a past I won’t return to. I know I’m off when my space feels crowded. Start cleaning up and I feel the fog lift.

I made my first ever Thanksgiving dinner here. I’ve hosted my family for Christmas. My friends have stayed for homecoming. I love having my own space, making all the rules. I’ve planted flowers that return each year full and vibrant. I’ve painted, sewn, and made this my retreat. I love how much I’ve grown. In this place I’ve rebuilt my confidence. Defined who I am. This is the safest space I have. I take care to protect it, physically and spiritually. Everything is intentional. Each room has a PowerPoint slide for the feel-good items they hold. 

Ease enters my body as soon as I get home. I love the way the sun fills the living room. Warmly gleaming off the floors. I have the perfect amount of space for me. A room for hobbies and a room for family and friends to rest in. Being the sole occupant is beautiful but also exhausting. Cleaning up this place is a multiday project. When something goes awry, it’s on me to take care of it. I’ve learned what I can handle and what sets me off. My grandmother’s portraits hang in the front room with Chadwick Boseman (Bisa Butler’s Forever 2020) on the opposite wall. Watching over me and keeping me on my path.

I’ve challenged my thought patterns in this house. It represents my ability to start over, to be alone, and reclaim myself. The person who lives here now is not the one who signed the deed and moved in. This is home to a stronger, more stable, confident person. Power is bubbling up in my veins. It’s fascinating, new, and terrifying much like buying a home. I look forward to wielding this new, intoxicating energy. My healing house came to me as other things were falling through. I’m supposed to live here. It’s perfect for me. I love this place and will never fully leave; it will always be my safest place.