Not really even sure if I should be posting it.
Let's start with this. We all know that I'm a pretty laid-back person with a positive disposition, sense of humor and a great outlook on life. Right? Right. I think that's what makes it hard for me to go back to a time in my life where I was in a pretty bad place. Raw, emotional, angry. On the other hand, I'm very sentimental and love looking at pictures of my past, remembering what if felt like to be "me" then.
I am so completely in love with my life now. Husband, house, fur-children, job, family, friends. Everything. I've moved on from the bad parts of my past and cherish the happy parts but this one caught me completely off guard.
Yesterday, while purusing a St. Louis real estate site (something I do semi-regularly, being the voyeur that I am) I came across a listing that looked all too familiar.
That, folks, is my first home. The home I was so proud to purchase at the ripe age of 23. The home I spent hour upon hour painting, remodeling, decorating, pouring love into. Unfortunately, it's also the home I shared with he-who-shall-remain-unnamed. He who caused me so much heartache. He who pushed me away, into the arms of the greatest thing to ever happen to me. For that, I am grateful.
Thus, the conflict of emotions.
I get attached to certain things in my life. The homes I have lived in rank high on that list. I will never tire of driving past the homes I grew up in and reminiscing. The same goes for this home, regardless of who I shared it with. Although, to give myself credit, I have not driven past it once since I left. (High five, willpower, high five.) Nor have I looked at pictures.
So seeing this listing yesterday was a bit troublesome. It's hard to describe how it makes me feel. I can tell you, however, that one emotion to immediately surface was anger. Not anger for what transpired in that house, I'm past that. But anger that woman I sold it to let this happen. She took my darling little house and let it fall into the bank's hands, into foreclosure.
Don't hate. If this wasn't a house that I paid substantially more for than it's currently listed, if I didn't have a small remaining emotional attachment to it, I would be more readily accepting of the situation. Being in real estate, I see this all the time. And I feel for the people it happens to. Sometimes you can't help the circumstances in your life that lead to this.
But my house? Seeing it from this perspective pisses me off, to put it bluntly. When I left, I was so ready to just get the hell out that I graciously left items that wouldn't ordinarily be left with the sale of a home. And since the current (past?) owner foreclosed, she took EVERYTHING that wasn't nailed down. My things.
Sigh.
My apologies for the negativity today. But seeing as this has replaced the journals I religiously poured my emotions into for a decade (that's a entirely other post) I had to share.
Give me an hour and I'll be over it.
And PS, if anyone's for looking for a fabulous deal on a pretty great little house in North St. Louis County, look this one up. Just don't tell me about it.
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And for Husband, when you read this, thank you for being you and for understanding that every once in awhile, little annoying things like this creep up out of my past. Like we've said, most of the time we both forget that I was ever married before. I like that. You are my husband, the one and only, the true love of my life. xoxo
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