Well. This was unexpected. I’ve had a pretty major emotional reaction that I am trying to get my head around. I’m grieving and reflecting.
Backstory: My apartment is up for sale. This means I have had to get to to photo-ready cleanliness for the advertising, and then presentation-level cleanliness for the Open Homes. I keep my home tidy for the most part, so it’s not really a huge stretch.
However it’s the first time I have had Open Homes forced upon me. Previous Open Homes in my life have been at my behest and I was a beneficiary of said Open Homes.
Today was the first one. Hopefully, not the first of an endless stream of highly irritating inconveniences, but that depends entirely on the saleability of this place.
One thing that has bothered me is that I have had strangers through my home. Uninvited strangers.
I’ve been here for over 4 1/2 years. In that time my parents have visited twice. My older sister, once. My younger sister, once. People generally don’t visit. This is my sanctuary. It has become this for a number of reasons.
It is my first ‘me’ place. A place that I made my own. A place that reflects my style and needs (rather than having to say ‘yes dear, you can do that style of decorating in that room’). This is a place that I have created to be safe and fun for my kids (when they come to stay). In this place I have healed, I have grown. In this place I have rediscovered ‘me’.
People tell me that change leads to a better place. This is of course quite possible. However I suspect that change that I am not managing or in control of leads to upheaval and disruption.
All this may be unnecessary and preemptive but one can’t control when grief hits. This place is way more than walls and a roof.
There is a good chance that it’s purchased by an investor who likes the idea of me being here, in which case life goes on.
Nonetheless, I have not been happy today.