Trading a house for a home

If you're not familiar with my adventures in restoration, read my love story post first. Actually, even if you ARE familiar... go re-read that post. It's good context! (I'll wait...)

If you're the kind of person who moves into a house and never changes the paint colors, this post won't resonate with you.  But for the rest of you, you know how it feels to put a little bit of your style into a house. Maybe you've stripped wallpaper or pulled back the carpet to find hardwood floors hidden underneath. A few hours worth of work and you've fixed, cleaned or replaced something. You've made it better.

I bought my last house when I was a young, optimistic, single woman. Over the next four years, I would repair or replace every single wall, ceiling, floor, door, light fixture, electrical outlet and piece of trim. That's no exaggeration.  I gutted all 4 bathrooms and rebuilt them from the floor up.  I gutted and rebuilt the kitchen. I put in all new lighting, floors and major systems (HVAC, roof, electrical panel). I took down walls, fixed beams, and sistered joists. I had help from friends, family, and a few contractors. All told, I spent 208 weekends working on that house.

I saved the place.   And then, not long after I finished, I decided to sell it.

I think a decaying house is like a bad marriage. It takes years of neglect to create the problems, but with hard work, you can almost always fix it. And I believe in fixing what can be fixed. Saving what other people deem "a lost cause."  But, imagine spending 4 years in couples counseling.  After 4 years of hard work, you wake up one morning, look at your partner and realize you have the exact marriage you've always wanted. It's perfect and you're content.  And then you ask for a divorce.

That's exactly what I did.  I sold my house in January of 2014. I just went back for the first time a few weeks ago. Driving up to the house, I felt so many emotions.  The new owners painted the exterior, replacing the sunny yellow with a shade of grayish blue. I'd like to tell you the color is all wrong, but in fact, it looks lovely.  Other than that, it's exactly the same as the day I left.  But, what was once the "love of my life" was now, just a house.

That's the lesson, I think.  A house is just a house. It's 4 walls and a roof.  It keeps you warm and safe and dry. I realize now that after 4 years of restoring that house, I loved it, but it still wasn't a home.  A house becomes a home when it's filled with love, family, memories, laughter, tears, fights, make-ups, dreams and hopes. A home holds all the beauty and love and heart that you bring to it.

After I sold my house, I traveled Europe for 3.5 months. Read about my European meltdown here. And then moved back to Michigan.  I fell madly in love and my life changed forever.   We moved to Chicago and we've created a home filled with laughter, the pitter-patter of little feet, with squeals of joy, family dinners, fights, make-ups, forts, bedtime stories and long discussions about our future.

Rich and I will buy a house soon enough, a place for our family to put down roots. But now I know...anywhere I go with these boys, I'm home.

Please, pass the tissues.

If you're not familiar with my adventures in restoration, read the post HERE before you continue. 
See the finished product...my fully renovated house HERE.

One week from today, I'll sit at a closing table and sign my dream home over to complete strangers.

On the horizon is adventure beyond my wildest dreams.  For the next 3 months, I'll be living in Italy, traveling through Europe and finishing with 2 weeks in France. I am over-the-moon excited for this trip. When I return, I'm moving back to my home state of Michigan! After 14 years away, it'll be amazing to live near my family and friends again. Lunch with my sister! Antiquing with my mom! Activities with my nieces and nephews! I cannot wait.

I am very excited for the next chapter of my life to begin.
And I am also so sad, I can barely breathe.
                               
The sadness crept in this week as I started packing up my house. This is the end of a really big chapter in my life. I left Michigan at the age of 21, spent 3 years in Los Angeles and the last 11 years here in Atlanta. This will be my 3rd cross-country move and let me tell you...it's always hard.

In a lot of ways, I grew up in Atlanta. It's the place I've spent the majority of my adult life, where my friendships have developed, where my career has grown and where I've had 1,000 amazing experiences.

It's where I learned improv and did my first Zip!Zap!Zop!  It's where I first sang on stage, performed spoken word poetry, ran my first mile and completed my first triathlon.  It's where I have tried new things, failed, succeeded, grown and learned. It's also where I purchased, renovated and sold my first two homes, which has turned into a passion for me.  I love my life in Atlanta. This house, this neighborhood, this city feels more like home to me than any place on Earth.

I've told a few friends how I feel and the replies have been "But Michigan will be so great!" or "Just think about your trip to Italy! It's a grand adventure."  It's almost as if the wonderful events on the horizon mean I can't also be sad that this chapter of my life is coming to a close.

I'm sad. And that doesn't mean I'm making the wrong choice. It just means I'm sad. Change is hard. Leaving people you love is difficult. Moving cross country is stressful.  Selling the home you imagined spending your life in...is heartbreaking.

The last few days have consisted of mostly packing and crying. Last night, I found myself on my kitchen floor sobbing amidst boxes and bubble wrap.  Thank God for my best friend, Erin, or I might still be there on the floor.

So, for now, please don't tell me how great Michigan is (it is!). Please don't remind me that Italy will be amazing (it will!) or that I should be excited for the adventures that lay ahead of me (I am!).

Just hold my hand and try to understand.
This was an exceptional chapter in my life.
And please, pass me the tissues.

Happiness by swiping a card

I'm not happy, dear readers.

I'm in a holding pattern, waiting for things to fall into place.  I've decided to move back to Michigan after 14 years away, but first, I need to sell my house. So, I'm waiting for my house to sell. And I'm waiting to quit my job. And I'm waiting to find a new house in Michigan. I'm just...waiting.

Last week, I met a few old friends at a local pub. Over our autumnal beers, we started talking about happiness.  One of them told me the story of a woman I'll call Mary. Mary was a powerful, driven consultant in Manhattan pulling in $200,000+ per year.  She was great at her job, successful, full of ambition.

One day, Mary decided she wasn't happy and decided to quit her job as a consultant. Instead, she went to a local health club and got a job at the front desk swiping access cards & saying "Welcome to XYZ gym." After years of ambition, achievement and responsibility, Mary dropped out of the rat race and found what she'd been missing...happiness.

I'm excited to move to Michigan and spend time with family and friends. But as I think about my future, I'm not sure that I want to simply move to Detroit, get a job, buy a house, renovate houses, or do any of the things I've done before. I'm not sure I want the same life anymore.

I've made my career the focus of my life for 14 years and I've been very successful. Like Mary, my career has been a huge part of my identity, a defining characteristic of who I am. So what does it mean if I don't want to do it anymore...?

Sitting in that pub last week, my friends encouraged me to do what Mary did - to take a break. To do something that makes me happy, no matter how mindless or ridiculous it may seem to others. To find my own equivalent of swiping health club membership cards.  In the process, we all deduced, I just might find happiness again.

So that's what I'm going to do. I'd planned to take a short break anyway, but now it'll be a break with purpose.  I'm going to pursue happiness in all it's forms.

I've started making a list of things I want to do, but haven't had the time:

• take dance classes
• blog more
• write a book
• write another book
• finally attempt Julia Child's beef bourguignon recipe (it takes all day)
• run more
• meditate daily
• volunteer
• take more photos
• organize my photos
• do craft projects
• scrapbook
• learn to sew
• read more books
• learn a foreign language

...and the list goes on and on. 

But first, I'm going to get lost for a while. Maybe I'll spend a month in Italy. Or France. Or Greece.

I want to be somewhere I've never been, with no agenda, no "to-do" list, no responsibilities.

Life is short.
It's time to get happy.

Let me 'splain...

Wow... my last blog was 3 months ago. May and June were two of the busiest months of my life. I have been putting off updating the blog because I want to tell these long stories for each item.  So, 3 months has gone by.

Let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. 
Buttercup is marry Hum... wait, that's not right.

Oh, here we go...

I started a new job in late April.  I enjoy the work and really like some of the people I work with.  I miss my old location, my friends, my gym buddies, but I'm meeting great people here, too.  Change is good, right?

I finished my master suite "refresh" (since I didn't knock down any walls, I can hardly call it a renovation.)  It's amazing and everyday, I love walking into my little sanctuary.  I'll post pictures of the finished product soon. 

I also finished the renovation of the upstairs master bedroom and bathroom gut renovation.  I laid new flooring, new vanity, toilet, mirror, plus new closet organizer systems in both closets, new paint, trim, and a new ceiling fan (with remote!).

My new tenant, Amanda, moved in successfully.

In early June, I reached a massive goal... I became a triathlete!  I 'll post a full race report with photos soon.  But, I will say that I'm very proud of myself and I'm training for my second triathlon which is in September!

All in all, life is good. I made it through a busy two months without pulling my hair out.

I'll post more soon, dear readers.   How about you...how has your summer been so far?