Remodelling … what a wicked web we weave….

Woops ms moment….excuse me….hands playing catch with the keyboard for visually impaired- not sure what is available for crazy hands. ANyway…..
Back on topic:

YEs…we joked about it ALOT today…but the tension was palpable. The laughter flowed into tears a number of times for me. HA But this is not unusual for me. Part of the effect emotional reaction affected…bulbar nonsense. At any rate when you have this old house which grew in stages over more than a century and a half (1863 being the beginning) well, things are found in the unfolding. It’s like peeling back layers of an onion and can smell a lot worse…all those years of living- and dying in such buildings leave their tell tale signs. This house is no exception. A simple wildlife removal proved too much for the inexperienced or those just being bad at their job…so bring in the contractor instead…for we think a simple tear out of a drop ceiling. Instead this project became rather involved and also led to the tearing out of the fiberglass tub and part of bathroom wall. This the beginning of the bathroom “remodel” (Can’t wait to see what that holds.) Now of course not to be outdone the basement must have new posts- ah…complete with floor jacking both there and on main floor and on the supports of the second floor. Of course it is an intricate weave, this ongoing project…and not to be left out the living room ceiling will join the ranks and I cannot wait to see the complications that await.

Every single comment, complaint, fear made by either of my daughters about something regarding the house over the years they lived here with us now come flying back. Sure -have no idea what if any meds I took this morning or whether I got through to the pharmacy to call in my refills on 3 meds this week…but all of a sudden , the look of sincere fear dances in my memory, the whispers of voices telling me of something heard…or thought to be seen. This leaves me angry as I had no logical answers. This leaves me angry because I let them down- and they were telling the truth. It was all very real. I want to sob but the day of too much cleaning – all to no avail as the dirt, the dust just keeps alighting down to this first floor and scatters throughout in places that defy explanation how it gets there. Too exhausted to cry. Too frustrated and angry.

My poor husband is sore, achy, exhausted from work that should have been done by a younger man, work that has passed his body by decades ago. He pushed through. I think he truly thinks with each thing he does to this house I will feel differently and change any thoughts or hopes for my future. I loved this house once. When we moved here I loved this house. It held the dreams of seeing my girls assimilate into a small town high school and the dating , proms, athletic activities. I dreamt of us going to church together on Sunday mornings and eventually, having them walk right down Main St with the wedding parties tp be married in that beautiful church one block away. The girls went to their church in the town we moved from and work interrupted the church attending here for me. Then illness hit- swooped me right off of my feet. This was to be our fresh start- same year we married- after about a decade of on and off again relationship….well mostly on until circumstances throttled us. shattering all we had built together. Upon reuniting and eventually marrying, we sought to leave the pain brought by memories and faces that no good had come from or would come from.

Now other memories have flooded this house. While other homes in this town have endured waters in a raging river, ours was weathering its age. This would be where some of the frustration and anger comes in. Once I could no longer drive this home began to feel like my prison as well. I no longer had a profession. I no longer had a means of transportation. I was stuck. Everyone else had their lives, school, activities, a social life, their work, their relationships.. I didn’t fit in…anywhere. It didn’t matter as I couldn’t get anywhere. As things happen, Our mortgage was taken on based on both of our incomes. We hadn’t expected having the income flow to be so drastically disrupted. It was though. Houses don’t respect that. The disrepair that existed once worsens. Disrepair unknown becomes evident, and those parts of homes that fail over time do so with no regard to income or the vanished savings ate up in no time once the income had ended and the medical bills began to pile up. In time the condition of the house became a concern as improvements could make it more efficient, cost-effective. We discussed this and once the opportunity presented itself, I made a settlement with the disability company which gave us the money to make the repairs and was to also leave an amount in savings but this was not what happened. This I think is where a portions of my anger is from. This house ate what was to be there to care for me. Instead it is gone. Issues remain- even issues the money was used to resolve- but hadn’t. I become less physically able… along with a house that does as well.

My husband thinks I am ridiculous to think of wanting to be by family, by people who would be nearer. He doesn’t understand being alone. He feels if they really wanted to be with me then they would come here. Yet I could count on one hand the number of times he took me there to see my family in the last 2 years- or longer even. I can understand and think maybe there are other reasons, so I mentioned other places over the years. He finds them ridiculous. This is the same man who not too many years ago believed in following his dreams even if others said it was not practical. He used to believe in not finding excuses to not do something but find ways to make things happen. Now that seems dead. I suppose I am angry with that too. How am I to be engaged in a life that my husband feels is all but done? Sure he can change jobs, if he wishes. He walks out the door at will. But to build a life together , a restart seems to scare him into paralysis. I guess this makes me really upset. Just staying in the same house together isn’t living out our lives together. not even close.

The thing is that life throws curves. Some see it as being burdens to survive, endure. Some see hurdles to overcome. Some see them as battles to be fought. It is all one thing for sure. It is life to be lived. There are adjustments to be made. But to fold up and say here’s where we stay in this space is like drawing the line in the sand. That has always struck me as ridiculous- given that of all things, sand shifts., What then does that say of the line drawn in the sand but that it means compromise and adjustment? Are there not paths to be traveled even when the road you are on is blown up ahead? Are there no more drinks to be had after one is spilled? We are getting older. I get that. I get that I have long lost the attraction he once felt. I am physically the nightmare of my youth in more ways than I can say. I have had to accept the loss of embraces together on the couch, of dancing together, or holding each other before sleeping , of cuddling in bed, of looking deeply into each other’s eyes, or making love. All losses I had to accept to be here. I have learned that being asked my opinion on what he wants to do or to buy are merely his way of saying. “this is what I am going to do.” Hmmm…maybe I am the one not getting it, huh?

I just think of people so much braver and wiser than I who have faced so much more and yet found ways to be engaged in life, to take part in the grand adventure. I get that my ideas may seem far reaching. I get that he doesn’t want to drive further to work or change jobs- or God forbid to change counties or countries. hahahaha Yep I dream big once I get started. Maybe this was a problem I always had. I could see probabilities in possibilities. I threw caution to the wind. God knows I hit the floor face first (HA Long before ms affected my balance or muscle strength.). But I got back up and I moved forward. Of course I was heart broken at times. I was despondent at times. And sometimes I had been unable to get my footing upon rising. Sometimes the silver lining was lost to me. Admittedly this seems to be one such time.

Tonight two friends, the ones who owned the house before we bought it paid us a visit. We talked, and laughed. We discussed… and while I excel at hiding my tears in laughter, I am pretty sure I wasn’t that good at it tonight. I am sorry to feel so much when it comes to this house. Tonight I can say I am sorry to feel so much.
Tonight I thought that houses are like onions once you start peeling them back, finding such layers underneath. I guess marriages are as well. I heard that the in love part of marriage, the this is new and wonderful lasts 6 months to a year. After that it’s said mostly to be a matter of ….making the best of it. with that in mind…why do we buy houses/ if that is the presumption with people, then how long can we be in love with a building? hahahaha Right now 9 years is a long time in this house. It is a sad noght….not one of the best- but very honest.


2 thoughts on “Remodelling … what a wicked web we weave….

  1. Amazing post. Your writing style allowed me to be right there with you, as though we were together, in person. The symbolism strong between you and the house, and the needs of both. Thank you for sharing, and allowing me a partial view into your world.


    • Thank you very much for stopping by! I hope d it may feel very much like a conversation- as I write from the heart- which can be sticky wicket!!

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