Some See Insanity

I get it.   From the outside looking in, the move to my north phoenix house looks like a wrong turn, a mistake or a rushed decision (I’ve heard it all…many times over).     

But from where I sit, none of those are true.

I lived in a 68 year old house for almost 2 decades and often wondered what it’d be like to be the first one to use the shower, walk barefoot on the floor and use the stove.  This past year I got to experience all of it.  Except the stove part.   

When I purchased this house, I never had any intention of moving. My realtor warned me at the Design Center about my abundant collection of upgrades. I exuberantly responded, “This is my forever home…I’m getting all the things!”

But, it wasn’t my forever home.  It actually hasn’t felt like home since the day I moved in.  When I explain that, people say “your house is beautiful” as if I'm not seeing it.  I see it.  It is a beautiful house.  It’s just not right.

I thought I could love North Phx but it turns out, I don’t.  I thought living in a subdivision where the houses are close together would be okay.  It’s not.  I thought I’d get used to living away from the vibe and energy of Central Phoenix.  I haven’t.  I thought I’d frequently use the community center amenities.  I don’t.    

Well, looks like you should have just bought a used house then…

Pfft.

After what happened in the bedroom of my old house, I was horrified of the unknown of every preowned house in the valley.  I was in survival mode and needed absolute assurance that my new environment would be sterile.  Yes, the odds of something awful having happened in the very house I might have chosen are slim to none.

That’s not the point.  

I had zero breathing room to leave that to chance.  I needed a 100% guarantee that I was entering a clean slate.  Just take my word on that part.

I don’t view this purchase as anything but another step along the journey.  It was a project to keep me busy while I worked through anger, depression and the feeling of being so unsettled that I felt like I was on a guest pass in my own house; like a visitor in my own life.  

All that junk has been worked through.  Last year hasn't been easy. The last blog of 2017 was the “I Stand Accused” entry written just days before I closed on my new house.  I haven’t published any entries since because none were suitable for viewing.  I try writing from a place that inspires hope and perseverance and having spent the last year feeling forced to have moved into a house I never planned on buying didn’t conjure up positivity.

But one constant has remained.  From day one I have pushed forward, putting one foot in front of the other.  Some people see too many decisions.  I see getting closer to what brings me joy.  Some feel this next move is financially irresponsible.  I feel blessed to have managed my finances so successfully that I can easily make this move.

Some call it insanity.  I call it progress. 

The Beanie Hat House is the final stop.   

And, most importantly, that move gets to be my choice.  

I get to decide for all the reasons I’ve stated (and some that I'm choosing not to publish) that I’m done here.   And, that freedom of choice feels amazing.

Not one box is packed yet but already I feel like I’m going home.