Here I go, again....moving forward

I should know better. What can go wrong, will.
Monday I had a refuse company drop off one of those roll-off things  I have it for a week.
In my head I had the plan all laid out.  Monday after work I would go through closets and get rid of the abundance of "stuff" collected and shoved away. Mainly it is Kyle's stuff. That ever active brain of his and all his concoctions.

Anyway, that was my plan for Monday and Tuesday...after work would be for cleaning out closets and rooms.  Don't ever say I am not optimistic because that plan had all the hallmarks of positive thinking. It was a sinus headache, the swollen RA joints, and the lovely symptom known as fatigue, I didn't plan on. I should know better.

So, here it is Wednesday and I am running way behind schedule. So, needless to say the plan to start cleaning out the garage on Wednesday, fell short.

I did manage to get one room semi-done and I am still scratching my head on the amount of stuff I pulled out of one closet, a closet in a room that we once used as a family room - it then turned into Kyle's music room -

I found clothing I haven't seen in years. Evidently, that is where my eldest, Justin,  shoved laundry rather than putting them up. Nice, Justin, nice. Good thing you and Kyle are 10 hours away.

I am trying to get this all done before Friday. I have a deadline. You see, it is time for me to downsize. I have to admit to myself this house and property is just too much for me to care for by myself, especially working more than full-time and when I am not working I am babying my autoimmune disorders. Keeping up with the lawn is more than I am able to do - allergies and swollen hands get in the way.  So, yes it is time.

Time to sell this place. When we moved here we had so many plans on how to fix up this old house. Unfortunately, life happened and none of those plans came to fruition. On a positive note, this house allowed me to provide some stability to the boys during a very unstable and unnerving time in our lives. Unfortunately, due to being that survivor raising children on one low-income, I wasn't able to keep up with all the things a property owner should.

So, yes, I am selling and, yes, it is a fixer upper - as is. Friday is probably the day I make it officially for sale.

Why I am doing this all by myself with a body that is not cooperating, well, I'm German - 'nuff said.

Ten years ago, this would have been easy. It was before my body decided to have a war within, attacking itself. It would have been when this house was spotless - eat off the floor squeaky clean. When my then husband started drinking again after all those years of sobriety, I became OCD with keeping the house clean. It was the only thing in my life, at that time, I had control over.  However, ten years of struggling, working too much, and then trying to take care of myself during flares- ended those OCD ways. I was out of energy.

So here I am. Roll-off in my driveway. Garage untouched and just one room done - tomorrow is the day everything must happen as I need it all done by Friday afternoon. Those damn stubborn ways of mine.

As for the house -

Since the boys have been gone I no longer have their chaos as my distraction. A distraction that kept me from remembering that this house does still hold so many triggers for me. Ones I've had glimpses of in the past but with the boys here, I was quickly able to divert my attention to something else.  It was like beginning to read an old journal entry and just as I would get to a flashback memory, a doorbell would ring - I could walk away and return- forgetting where I left off. Yes, that is exactly what it was like when the boys were here - bells ringing all over the place and me running in all directions to answer them. Now, the bells do not ring. Now I must pay attention to what I was running from - triggers.

I was warned a long time ago that I should sell the house - get away from the walls that contained too many unpleasant memories. Back then the thought of moving was not in the works. Living under that poverty line saw to that- the house was the one thing I had that was stable, even if rocky at times. Plus, Kyle, my youngest found a home - a perfect fit - in the charter school he attended, iLead Charter in Mauston. There was no way I could rip him away from there - not after all the other losses his childhood sustained. We stayed and my life was filled with many distractions, namely -my children.

PTSD, can be hell to live with. Even after all these years, years where the boys and I created new and positive memories, those old clips still play- especially now that there are no distractions. Those warnings I didn't heed back when they were first issued are catching up to me now.

There's not a room in this house that something did not happen. Domestic Violence seeped into each one.

The den/family room - that was the room where one night he took my wrist and twisted it while bending back my arm - he took my cell phone, threw it across the room-breaking it, and then all the money in my purse so he could go back to the bar. That was the room we were in and that was the first time I ever called the police on him. Sure there had been previous incidents, ones with more harm caused, but that night was just a few months after my mother died. The day she died I made a promise with myself, that I would never allow someone to abuse me again.

The kitchen -I can remember standing in front of the drawer holding the kitchen knives, guarding it every time he was drunk and tensions were rising. It was also the room where my boys would run under the table to hide. When I saw that happen, I knew I had to break cycles.

The living room - Just before my mother died, he had come home drunk from work - had my cornered against a wall. I was sitting and covering my head as I didn't know what to expect - he was telling me how he would kill me if I ever left him. That was the night I realized he was turning into someone else, that he had made a turn and rather than just a few times a year incidents of violence, it would be now constant. After my mother died I would come to find out that was the night she called a few of my friends to tell them that if I ever disappeared or was killed, my husband would have been guilty.

Yes, the list can go on and on and it does - especially when there are no distractions. I suppose the experts were right.  Now, don't get me wrong, I am not falling apart, breaking into sobs - it is just I am remembering clearly, with undivided attention.

Yes, healing is a process. It will take a long time and you will find moments where you slip back.  It is like when you break a bone, it heals, but every so often something happens with the weather and you can feel that ache again - you know you're fine, it is just a reminder of what you've been through.

I know when it happens I can write out my emotions and experiences, purging them all for the world to see and somehow I will feel better. Perhaps it is a form of validation for me. Maybe it is my way of connecting with others who understand and then there's that part of me that wants those who have never dealt with domestic violence to know just how deep those cuts are.

I do know I can make a choice to change my surroundings. With the boys now gone there really is no reason to remain in this house- it is too much for me to take care of, especially now dealing with autoimmune issues. It is too big for just one person, even with the dogs - And, it is time for a change. Fresh air.

It needs the TLC I've been unable to give it for the last decade. And, I need to give myself some TLC in being in new surroundings.

If dreams come true then I hope one day this home can provide a loving environment for someone in need. Their new start. While I may still have those not so great memories, I do know this house has been filled with love more than not.  It is where my children and I emerged as survivors, refusing to live like a victim.  Cycles were broken here. There's power in that type of energy, which will remain long after we are gone from here.

Now, if I can just summon up the energy to get this placed organized.

Any house flippers out there? Hit me up :)


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