“Energy flows where attention goes.”
For the better part of two years now, my husband and I have been consumed by building our house. First, eager to find land, then happily researching various house styles, designing the house and coming to a mutual agreement on (almost) everything. Next, phase two began – finding an architect, then onto interviewing local builders, and visiting numerous job sites in order to inspect the quality of each builder’s homes. Initially it consumed us in the most beautiful way. It was fun, inspiring and lovely: like watching an artist’s rendering come to life before our eyes. Then all of a sudden, as if it had risen from the ugly depths of the mud pit surrounding our house site – inconsistencies and uncertainties arose from every direction. We’d no sooner plucked one out and five more would appear; like dandelions on untreated grass. Before we knew it, life had become a bed of unwieldy weeds.
Lately our attention has gone solely to fixing problems that shouldn’t have been problems. And our energy has gone to expecting even more problems. As a result, our brains have been in full out combat, crisis mode for longer than I care to remember.
This house building project of ours has been a heart-breaking and soul-building adventure.
It’s felt much like climbing an invisible mountain with no vantage point, horizon or ending: as obstacles have been thrown in our path one after another nonstop, leaving us emotionally and physically exhausted.
Just recently I was venting to a dear friend about the atrocities of our building ordeal. Her kind ears listened with the skill of a good friend’s heart as I gave one minute detail after another, not believing it either. My frustrated words flowed until I heard myself say, I feel as if I haven’t unpacked my life here yet. Obviously, I wouldn’t make for a good contestant on Survivor!
During my rant I realized that I hadn’t, yet, left my imprint on this place we now called home. It had gotten lost on the road to nowhere marked with detours and dead ends.
Our current surroundings (and by current I mean two years), full of cardboard boxes and half unpacked this and thats weren’t just aesthetic. They’d become literal in every sense, as our so called delivery date was pushed back over and over again. Like a false labor gone mad.
Giving silly things such as mismatched furniture, no decorations, scattered samples and cardboard boxes, an importance they didn’t deserve. Silently taunting me as if they were in cahoots with all that was wrong. They’d become symbolic of the uneasiness we were experiencing. Leaving this slightly (completely) OCD girl feeling out of sync with the universe and myself.
I knew instinctively that in order to figure things out, we needed to stop and take a breath. To be still and pause. Unfortunately our house nightmare left us in crisis mode “24-7.” All systems on lockdown, in preparedness mode for what was lurking around the corner. My heart has been racing in my chest for so long now: (telling me I’m on high alert), that I’ve forgotten what normal feels like. And while I’ve never been a fan of normal (spelled backwards it secretly reads-boring), I would settle for just a wee bit of it right now. I hadn’t been able to read or write for almost a month. I found myself feeling that dreaded familiar uneasiness: the one I felt many times when our son was ill. Always anticipating another something bad.
Isn’t that the very worst feeling – when we begin to expect another bad thing? YES. It is. It’s heart wrenching to be disappointed in human kind. To almost lose hope.
Often the most difficult journey, the journey inward, to our place of truth and centeredness: is scattered with odds and ends so mismatched we see no way of making our truth fit into our life. So it remains vague and mysterious, like that of mist rising off water, until we allow the light to filter through.
These are the lessons hidden in the mist. The ones you learn to wait for. Until the light reveals a truth.
I once wrote that the truest love lies in the messy parts. Coerced and configured by life’s demands…this house has had a lot of messy parts attached to it. Our bizarre experiences since we’ve been here have involved too many messy parts. Way too many. Still, our love remains true. Our vision intact.
One truth I know for sure: love and hope can only be found in the places you see with your whole heart, messy parts and all. Our hope was diminished briefly, but ultimately love is our reality and our absolute truth. Our constant. Greed, lies and deceit are fleeting in their so called victories.
Love is stronger. Always.
Truth will not remain in the darkness, it unveils itself in time.
Hindsight has wisely pointed out the countless warning signs that arose along the way. The ones we failed to heed…hoping for the best. Thinking we could make it better. Hindsight – that wonderful sage. If only we could pickle it, put it in a jar and pull it out when we need it most. But how then would we develop the brilliant, complex layers know as character.
For each and every destiny there is a broken road that leads us to where we are meant to be. This broken road we’ve been on for the past two years has bent and twisted us to the point of (almost) snapping. ALMOST!
Not so fast universe! Stay with us as we continue to bend our thoughts toward the sunlight once again.
It seems somewhat foreboding that one of my recent posts was titled – A House is just a House. We almost stepped away from the house, deciding to put it on the market: deeming it just a house, wanting nothing more than to be released from all the negativity that seemed to encircle it. But dammit, we’ve literally and figuratively put our blood, sweat and tears into this HOUSE OF OURS! So for now, WE will occupy it (when it’s completed?!?!), WE will take a respite from all crisis scenarios that have been representative of life as we know it for the past two years, and WE will finally begin to experience a phenomenon know as FUN, again:
As for what happened…some things are better left unsaid.
One last truth I know for sure: coming home, whether it be a rental or a home you own, whether your order is truly orderly or whether your order is chaotic. It is yours. For two years – not having unpacked a life, has felt like a song without a melody plodding clumsily along with no direction or cadence.
To have a home, unpacked and open to receive…is the peaceful easy feeling at the beginning and ending of every day that’s been missing in our world.
There is a door that beckons us to cross over to the threshold of our dreams. Behind it lies a feeling essential to the human soul…a sense of home.
When we recover from our PTSD, brought on by witnessing atrocious acts of the building kind, we’ll decide (eventually), when and if we’ll move and whether or not we will build our dream home again.
But for now (and by for now I mean an undetermined amount of time after we move in), we’re going to give our road-weary bodies and minds a break…
I’m thinking sandy beaches and rum punch for starters! Who’s with me?!
“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.” Martin Luther King