The Day Our House Sold

Did I somehow get life backwards? I mean, most people yearn for the opportunity to purchase their first home. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t feel the same way when we purchased our home 4 years ago. We were just as excited, thought we were doing something positive and better for our family. Those feelings that come along, you know, feeling proud that you finally own something. It is your porch, your kitchen, your backyard etc. Your child has their own bedroom and lots of space to run around. Not to mention, it was also in a relatively safe neighborhood with a descent school district. Yet, it is as if we despised that home the entire time we owned it. See, the way my mind works, is I am constantly doing things for others, even if it is not shared with those that I am doing the favor for. I had visions of family dinners, parties and making friends with other couples with their kids in the area. I thought people would be excited to be part of our lives now that we “owned a home.” The complete opposite actually happened. The funny part, as I look back, we slowly gave up. Our first 6 months in that house were filled with ideas, hope, furniture and a plan with home projects to make this place a home. We soon realized, unfortunately, that no one cared to even visit, even after multiple attempts. To this day, I have no clue if our home wasn’t good enough because it wasn’t modern, despite that it was cleaned regularly. Was it the cats? Did people really not like me or us? I have no idea. When we had our parties, I tried to invite people who I knew lightly to try and establish a relationship, and they never came. I reached out to have play dates with others, and they couldn’t be bothered. Heck, I even invited people to my husband’s work events as our plus ones for free kid entertainment, but even that seemed to not be enough. I am rambling, obviously, but I always smile on the inside when people have recently asked me the same question..”Why did you move?” That list is rather long, but to be honest there are a few that pain me when I think about it. I moved because we felt the area was old and dying. Opportunity was few, far and inbetween for Abigail...not to mention, pricey. We moved because I went through the hardest time of my life in that home, and no one existed. Days where I thought life wasn’t worth living because I must have somehow been a burden to everyone, since no one wanted to be around me. And I am a psycho, maybe, but I have plenty of saved screenshots of unanswered texts, shots showing me always being the first to reach out to others. Family and “friends” included, and it just got old and contributed hard core to my depressive state. It’s a hard pill to swallow when your visions don’t quite come to life. I so wanted to fill that long table we once had with people enjoying a home cooked meal. It happened one time, and it wasn’t even wanted by all who were there. So, what was the point in keeping anything in our home if there was no one to use it all? Some seem to think this was some easy task. Like we just got our affairs in order and checked out. Quite the opposite. For once, we just decided to choose us. There was an opportunity, and we took it and ran with it. Despite the comments, the questions and the few that were not happy. We did it. There was no job lined up, no apartment ready or location picked out and heck, our home wasn’t even officially sold yet. We sold/donated 75% of our stuff and packed a small SUV to the top with our belongings, 2 cats and us. Nut cases, right? Not to mention, I am still not fully comfortable with choosing us over others. This doesn’t even touch on the emotional aspect. The tears cried, the anger and disappointment as we were about to depart on our new journey, knowing we were not coming back. With the car packed, and Abigail content, we did one was check around this house to make sure everything was okay, and we looked at eachother and both lost it. It felt like a major loss, failure and mistake all wrapped into one. As we’re both clearly an emotional mess, we just hugged, remembering as much as we could about the moments that were ours there. I know Abigail’s room was the hardest for Toby to let go. He spent every night since we were there rocking her to sleep, singing lullabies, and reading books. I tend to put those things out of my mind because I can’t deal with them. I was more hurt for him than I was for myself. I was more upset at the failure I felt me and the house were. Disappointed in the life I “built” and it was nowhere near what I wanted. So here I am, July 20th 2018, and our house is gone. I’ve never referred to it as home, because it never was and never will be. I couldn’t hold back from crying today though because it is a loss, like anything in life. But in the end, that house robbed more from us then it gave us. The biggest was time that we can’t get that back.