We have a contract from someone that wants to buy the house. It’s a company that flips houses but at least it’s a contract. Wednesday is the day that she (who I’ve been talking to) will come out to take a look at the house and I am so afraid of this. I don’t like being judged and I never bring anyone home or ask them over to my home because of the way that it looks. It’s clean but worn and some people just don’t understand that.
I remember being a child and my elementary school was just down the street so I would walk to school while my mother stood in the road watching me in the morning and again in the afternoon when I walked home. One time, I don’t remember what grade, we had a field trip down to the local park, the class was walking and not taking a bus or anything. This walk meant it would go right by my house and I thought I would die. I remember playing sick that day so that I didn’t have to walk and tell everyone where I lived. But I did peak out the window as they walked by and some of them did point over. I was so embarrassed that anyone knew where I lived. That sounds horrible I know but you have to understand that I went through some horrible bullying in school and back then, there wasn’t such a thing as being bullied. Today bully is a bad word, back then they shrugged it off and said to let the parents deal with it. But my mother had so much already on her shoulders that I would never have put more on her.
So I can honestly say that I can count on one hand just how many people have come to my house for me, knowing me, and that doesn’t even fill up the one hand. Maybe this will let you know a bit of why my anxiety level is exploding with the thought of a stranger coming in to tell me just how much it is or isn’t worth. I know how much it’s worth to me, but that’s because I know what it’s been through and how it’s protected us. I know the love that has been held within these walls and the pain that it’s comforted. This house, though falling apart in some areas, is a house of love and strength and family. I’m so afraid of someone saying that it’s junk or something like that.
They’re going to refurbish it when they take it over and I know that. I don’t think I would ever come back to look at it though because I wouldn’t be able to come inside and feel home again. Maybe that’s what’s bothering me, I’m losing home. Will the next place have as much love and strength? How can I do that without what my mother built? I feel her here and I think sometimes that is what gets me through. Will that feeling go with me? I’m afraid.
I truly wish that someone was here that would tell me the right thing to do and just hold my hand through the entire process. But even though I have a sister that is truly there to help me, I don’t think she can get me through what I’m feeling.