Provider

Posted on by stilllearning2b

We received news yesterday that our bid on the house was not accepted. I was disappointed, but not surprised. I suppose in a way, I was even relieved since I have some anxiety about the financial implications and obligations associated with buying a house.

(On a side note, I realized this past weekend, while sharing my story, that the financial aspect is the only area from which I have not healed. I’m not sure if I can move past that part while I’m still paying for his lies. It’s better than it was, but money issues can still be a major trigger. Grrr.)

Almost immediately upon hearing the news, I let go of the house. We had already discussed that if our bid was not accepted, we would go back to casually keeping an eye on homes and continue to save. After all, we still have 5 months until the planned move date.

Brock didn’t take it quite so well. He was restless. Discontent. He started searching the data base of houses for sale in the area. He sent listings to me and called me in to look over his shoulder. Verbally, he agreed that it made sense to pause and that we had plenty of time, but his actions spoke to a deeper need.

We even drove to look at a house (it was really amazing yet had a 100+ foot drop off in the back going down to a river and needed too much work for its price). I sensed that he needed to feel like there was forward momentum. I get it. I am usually guilty of the same anxiety-driven restless energy.

I awoke this morning to a note by the coffeepot:

“I promise I will get you a house you can be proud of.”

Wow. This explained his energy the day before. He sees himself as the provider. He knows that our current home is a bit of a dump (what’s funny though is that I’ve adapted and even learned to appreciate not having a “nice” home). He is feeling responsible for making sure that I am in a place where I can be happy.

He is taking house hunting literally. I’m surprised he hasn’t armed himself with a spear yet:)

My response to him?

“I have a husband I am proud of. That’s what matters.”

It’s been interesting for me to learn how important the “provider” role is to him. I didn’t get it at first, especially because he was insistent that women that he dated had their own career/income (he fully supported an ex for awhile and hated that). On my side, I’ve never wanted a man to “take care of me.” I was very uncomfortable with one man that I dated who had this approach. I saw the responsibility as equal.

It is true that Brock carries the majority of the financial burden. I’m a teacher. He’s not. What I now understand, however, is that he carries all of the financial burden in his mind. He feels responsible for the material well-being of our family.

I am grateful that Brock can articulate this need. My ex couldn’t and I think it was the initial domino in his fall. From what I can gather, it seems as though my ex faced professional decline. He lost a job and couldn’t find one to replace the responsibility and income level that he had before. He opened his own business, yet I do not think it was successful. My gut tells me that the spending and stealing started to try to cover for the lack of income he was receiving from his company. I think he was ashamed that he could not be a provider. He felt diminished and depleted. Embarrassed, even. He hid these feelings from me just as he hid the financial concerns. As a child, he was taught to keep shame buried deep and to not ask for help. He learned that lesson well.

I have come to understand that the way Brock feels about his role has a greater impact than how I see it or how it actually is. His self-image is based on being able to protect and provide. My role is to help him feel supported and appreciated in those realms, regardless of the external circumstances.

(I know that I also have areas upon which I base my self-image, but for the life of me, I can’t pinpoint them. Hmmm…got me some thinking to do!)

So for now, the boxes will remain broken down on their stack in the basement and the books will remain on their shelves. We will continue to live and laugh and love in our run-down rental. And, when it is time and the right home appears, we will make the move.

Until then, we live. And look at copious quantities of real estate porn.

I Have a Crush

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I first caught a glimpse of him online last night. The description was brief, but the pictures drew me in instantly.

I was hooked.

I dreamed of him last night, imaging the future we could have together. Picturing our lives intertwined. When I awoke this morning, he was still on my mind, even though I was trying to suppress the thoughts. Giving in, I finally decided we needed to meet in person. Immediately.

I made the short drive to his residence. I gasped when I pulled into the driveway. He was even better looking in person that he was in pictures. I was smitten.

photo-259
My crush in “person” 🙂 He obviously needs a haircut!

That’s right. I have a crush on a house.

Like any crush, my mind is awash in romantic notions. Spinning possibilities out of mere suggestions. I am obsessed, overtaken with passions of paint colors and potential plantings.

Like any crush, my dreams will likely be dashed since there is scant anchor in reality.

Brock and have been rational in our quest for a home. We have registered with hatch My House so that our wedding gifts can build our down payment. We plan to move this fall after the wedding and when our lease has expired. With the assistance of a friend in the real estate business, we started casually perusing homes in the area we live and love. We frequently email postings back and forth and engage in dialog about the potential perks and liabilities of each property. We’ve known that these homes are only hypotheticals; they will be long gone by the time we are prepared to buy. And that’s been okay.

And then we saw this one.

On digital paper, it’s perfect. A foreclosure, priced to sell. Ugly on the inside, but just needing some TLC to make it beautiful. It has the spaces we need and the amenities we want. It’s difficult not to fall and fall hard.

I visited today, exploring the yard and peering in the windows. I could so easily see us in that space. I was already arranging furniture and repainting walls. I could almost hear the clacks of the sticks from the spot where Brock would teach his private martial arts lessons. I stood in the spot where I would put a hammock and gazed out at the yard that I so desperately want. I felt the ache of my nomadic existence the past four years fade as I let the home’s energy wash over me.

Damn.

I know better than to do this. I know I’m getting excited just to have my heart broken. I know it’s just a house and should not be an emotional investment. I know that it makes sense to wait until we have more money to put down and our lease is officially over.

But damn. I’m crushing hard.

Tomorrow, we make the formal introductions. Our realtor friend is meeting us there to show us the inside. A part of me hopes that the home has some fatal flaw on the inside. Something that will crush the crush.

But another part of me wants it to remain perfect.

Brock and I have talked strategy. Figured out a possible juggling act that would allow us to purchase earlier than we anticipated. It’s not ideal and it’s a little scary but it just might work. Of course, we may not be the only ones flirting with our intended. There may be competition better looking and more prepared for an immediate relationship.

But still.

It’s hard not to get excited about the thought that our crush might just maybe, possibly like us back.