The reconstruction is almost complete; only a few small bits to finish up in the kitchen. My broken woodpile is a home again! It feels like the sun has come up for the first time in months and the stress has moved out.
Everything has an energy, even inanimate things. Before I bought this house, it was renovated, supposedly. In hindsight, it wasn’t completely renovated; it was the equivalent of putting a band-aid on a severed limb. The neglect was painted over and made to look better, but the damage within the bones was ignored. This house was NOT happy.
In all fairness, if I’d been neglected for years and not taken care of, I’d be pretty pissed too. There are certain things that need to be serviced and replaced periodically in houses; it’s all part of the ‘joy’ of home-ownership; you get to take care of these things. Or in the case of the previous sets of owners, NOT take care of them. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that it will eventually give out and break. Which is what it did. Instead of having a small wound, this place had a full-on breakdown. I’ve decided to view it as the inanimate-equivalent of a full blown tantrum.
Instead of viewing the chaos as a home in need of care and repair, I hated it and funneled my anger into it for all the disappointment it had caused me and for all the ways it had let me down. Obviously, I thought I’d signed on for something different; a renovated home, not a money pit. About a week ago I decided that this house and I need to get onto the same page. So I did the only crazy thing I know; I had a frank discussion with this house, in the same way you’d have a chat to a friend. Out loud. Yes, I know, they probably make pills for this.
After getting the apologies out of the way, for all the anger I’d brought to the party since the snafu in January, I acknowledged all the ways this house has been neglected. Looking at some of the scars left, this house was in pretty bad disrepair before it was ‘renovated.’ Then the renovation just glossed it up and dumped it on the first person to fall for it. Whether the previous sets of owners just didn’t give a shit, or whether they financially couldn’t handle it, this house was left to break and there was never a level of love and care put into it to make it whole again. It’s a bit like breaking up with your partner because they got sick; they just walked away and left it.
This place was built to be someone’s home and there are no visible signs that it ever was. The people I bought it from, never lived here. They owned it for 2 years and it stood empty while they renovated it. It’s been a long time since any kind of love lived within these walls, then I moved in and my anger moved in 5 weeks later.
It’s time this place was a home. My home. There are still things to be fixed, and I will fix them one at a time. I’ve promised to take care of the things that need fixing, in exchange for my house showing me what those things are. If there’s a leak, show me where it is gently; don’t collapse the ceiling around me to get my attention. I can only fix them slowly, so if this house collapses around my ears, I can’t fix that. But I can turn this home into the Belle of the Block, one project at a time.
Acknowledging the neglect has really shifted the energy. This isn’t a fight anymore. We are 2 things in need of care and pampering; my house and me.
Thanks to the amazing crew at Chicago Water and Fire, my house feels like a home. I have floors again. The broken kitchen is functional and better than it was before. There’s extra storage, the paint is fresh, the walls are no longer gaping holes oozing insulation, the floors are gorgeous and smooth underfoot. Everything is back in its place and the energy has changed completely. It’s gone from feeling angry and negative to a sanctuary; even my body feels lighter.
By recognizing how deep the neglect has run into the core of this house, something has shifted mentally. Restoration is going to take time and it needs to go right down to the bones. You can only fix something if you’re willing to admit that it’s broken and I am broken. So after 20 years of having it on every single list of things I want to do with my life, I took myself to yoga. By myself. Restorative yoga isn’t what was on the list, but it’s what is necessary right now. I cannot restore this house down to the bones, if I’m too chicken-shit to do the same thing for myself.
To Henley, for taking me a restorative class in Canada 3 years ago; to Kara for constantly nudging me to try it; to Tia for researching the studio to make sure it would be the right place for me and for encouraging me to go, THANK YOU! Love you ladies to the moon and back.
You are both going to be Belles of the Block ! To infinity and beyond………