Here I Go Again

Posted on by stilllearning2b

photo-288

I guess sometimes the third try is the charm (just, please not for marriages…two is plenty!). After putting in three offers on three different houses, we are finally under contract and set to close just before Labor Day. I’m excited. I’m nervous. I’m so ready to be settled. But I’m also scared of settling in.

This will be my fifth move in four years. I’ve been pretty nomadic since the divorce. I knew that each move had a expiration date, so I have not taken the time or energy to fully nest in a place. It’s freeing in a way, but I’ve also missed that sense of home. That feeling of being in a place that I’ve personalized to my needs and tastes.

I’ve also been living in other people’s spaces. My first home was a spare bedroom in my friend’s house. Since I left everything behind, I used everything from her furniture to her linens. I had no personal stamp at all. My next home was an apartment by myself for a year. I furnished the entire place for $2000 and the help from IKEA (perfect for college students and the recently divorced alike!). Even though it was my space, I still held back since I knew that is was also a temporary resting spot. My next perch was in Brock’s townhome. This time, I brought furniture and other belongings with me, but I was still moving into someone else’s space. The current rental has been an improvement, as we both entered at the same time, but I still have resisted injecting my taste into the temporary home. Even on the house hunting, I have been somewhat distant from the houses, refusing to get emotionally attached (hmmm…kinda like I was when I first started dating).

This is different now.

This is a Home. This is a place where we intend to spend the next 15-20 years. This is a place where I can personalize. This is a place where I can grow roots. This is a place where I can move in without having to set aside the boxes for the inevitable move out. This is a place where the paint that goes on the walls won’t be from the leftovers in the garage. This is a place where things can be fixed instead of endured. This is a place where I can garden again. This is a place where I can grow.

I don’t know why, but the purchase of a house symbolizes more about commitment and moving on than the marriage does. I don’t know why, bu the purchase of a house makes me more nervous than the upcoming nuptials. It’s liked I’m scared to root again because of the fear of the pain of being uprooted.

Stupid fear. Ultimately, it’s just a house. Four walls and a screened in porch. I should not let it symbolize more than it is. After all, I can love and be happy with or without a Home. It’s time to let go of the fear of losing again. It’s time to relax and settle in. Hopefully soon on my new porch:)

Perfection in a Chipped Plate

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Image from growingyoungereachday

In my old house, I strove for perfection.  My ex and I were constantly laying tile, painting walls, building furniture, and then repainting walls. We looked for furniture, dishware, and accessories that would give a Pottery Barn look on a Target budget. I once spent over 30 hours looking for just the right throw pillows for the couch after we repainted the living room. We both had a similar level of neatness, so the carefully selected objects in the carefully crafted house were not obscured by clutter. Perfection always seemed attainable, although slightly out of reach.

In my new home, perfection is laughable. My boyfriend’s talents do not extend to homemaking; in fact, as far as the house is concerned, I feel like I live with a scattered 16 year old boy. Our furnishings are a compilation of his twenty years of bachelorhood and my on-a-very-tight-budget IKEA run to furnish the apartment I was in for year 2 of my new life. The cupboards are filled with an odd assortment of dishes and glasses, many of them chipped from being carelessly loaded into the dishwasher. The couch, a remnant of bachelorhood, is stained from spilled drinks and muddy paws. It is topped with throw pillows that don’t match much of anything. Even the house itself is a rental, so we have done the bare minimum to improve its aesthetics.

Sometimes, when I visit other people’s homes and I see their perfect serving dishes and their matched accessories, I feel inadequate. I think about hitting the stores and upgrading some of our things. But then I realize that I don’t want to travel that road again. I don’t want to feel the pressure to create a perfect home. In my old life, I took pride in my surroundings, yet I was also a slave to them. I like living in a home where I do not have to be worried about a spill on the rug or a chip in the wood. I like not being owned by my home.

So, if you ever make it over for dinner, I can promise you a mean Mexican lasagna on a chipped IKEA plate, plenty of wine (although it may not be served in a wine glass), and lots of laughter and good company (oh, and pit bull kisses too). That’s my idea of perfection.