Tuesday, September 27, 2011

It's MY house.

I've been debating if I want to write about this.

But this blog is about me, my life, what makes me happy and what makes me sad.  And what really bugs me.

And I promise I won't start another sentence with the word "but".

My mom bought her house when she was in her early 20's.  It's a cool house.  It might be full of asbestos and lead paint, but it's still cool.  I grew up in that house (when I wasn't living with my dad on the farm).

Growing up, the house was a duplex (upper/lower).  We lived on the bottom and mom rented out the 2nd floor.  I met some great people because of that.  Not that I keep in touch with any of them anymore, but hey, they were great when I was there.

When I got to high school, mom decided to convert the house to a one-family.

Looking back, this probably wasn't the best idea. 

It was great for me though-I had the entire 2nd floor to myself!  I may have had a party or two up there.   I faintly remember putting a crapload of ice in the claw-foot bathtub to use as a "cooler" for some beverages my friends and I weren't old enough to drink.  Okay, not faintly.  I remember the crap out of that.  I was cool back then.

I remember hanging out with friends, drinking Mad Dog 20/20 out of a straw.

Don't do it.

Anyway, I got older, went to college, moved out, got married and started a family.  Then, it was only my mom and step-dad in the 4-bedroom house.

Then my mom had a stroke.

She never went back to the house.

I have to give my step-dad a little credit.  He did what he could with what he had.  Okay, maybe he didn't really do a good job of it.  Money management is not his thing.

He failed.  Foreclosed.  The house is being auctioned off on November 1st.

I am struggling with this BIG TIME.  I want so much to buy that house, but I can't live in it-it's not conducive to my life now.  I also don't have a boatload of money just sitting there (and it would be a boatload of money-not to purchase the house, but to make it what it should be).   I don't want someone else buying it, changing it, tearing it down.  I couldn't deal with that.  That was MY house.  I have baby pictures of me laying on the shag carpet in the living room.  There's a grape juice stain on the hardwood floor because of me.  Santa came down that chimney and delivered MY presents.

It's only a house, right?  What matters are the memories, right?

Right.

Will I get over this? Sure. Will it be hard. Uh, yup.

6 comments:

  1. Ugh. That's tough and i'm sorry you are having a hard time with this. It does get better with time, but it will always suck. Big hugs to you, my friend!!

    I remember when we had to move out of our home just months after my dad passed away. I hated it. That was OUR home where lots of memories were made with my dad. I didn't want to let it go, but we had to. It was hard watching the new people move in. To this day I still drive by that house and look for a "for rent" or "for sale" sign. "those people" are still there...after 11 years they are still there. I always think to myself "that should be my family in that house". But, what can you do.

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  2. Damn... I hated when we left our house too. I still go buy there and see it whenever I get back up North.. It definitely does suck.. {{HUGS!}}

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  3. That is sooo hard...I'm sorry.

    You are right about this though...the memories will always be yours. No one can take them from you.

    And just because I know you need a smile, my verification word below is UNDIES. Very nice. :)

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  4. That is tough. Who knew you could get really attached to a house?

    When my parents moved out of my childhood home (lived there from when I was 4 until I went to college), it was weird. Their new house that they now live in is not the same. A while back, I was browsing real estate in our old town, and saw our old house was on the market. I looked at the pics and it was crazy to see all the changes that had been made since we moved out 15 years ago. I was almost angry that someone had torn apart "my" house and changed it. It felt like a violation of sorts. "Hey, that was MY room you painted that hideous color! That was where I got ready for prom and graduation! That was my living room where we had Christmas!" etc. etc.

    I totally get it, and feel for you! It sucks. Big ((hugs))

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  5. Oh, Jess. I am so sorry about this. I totally get it. I wouldn't be handling this half as well as you seem to be. I mean, really, it is so sad. Because it wasn't your house..it was your home. And not only are all your childhood memories there, but all your memories of your mom as a healthy person are there. I think you can mourn this however you need to mourn it and don't feel bad about it for a second.

    I could also beat the piss out of R** for you if that would be helpful. ;)

    XOXOXO

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  6. Oh boy hon, do I feel you on this one. I could talk to you for hours about it and how much it sucks.

    I have to remind myself at least once a week that my parents house is just a house, that I have my memories of it and my times there with them and try to separate myself from what is happening there now. It's hard. VERY hard and I don't always succeed. I hope some day when I can move and have some distance it'll get easier, but since I haven't been there I can't tell you it will, other than everything does get easier as time goes on.

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