Let me explain ~ there’s a story behind everything wrong within my home.
Prepping my home to be listed was hard work. It felt good to toss this and that into the yard sale pile, those things into the trash and touch the possessions I wish to keep. It felt good to patch the wall where a young boy’s foot accident went through the drywall, fill in the hole from when we moved the thermostat and finish the drywall left undone for at least fifteen years. It’s not perfect, but my home certainly looks and feels better.
Wait. Change those words, Cynthia. This home. I’m selling this home. If I continue to claim this house as mine I will never sell it. Law of attraction, right?
Today a man is coming to
my this home to do inspections per an agreement for purchase. My imagination is determined to envision a man with a magnifying glass evaluating every chore left undone, find dust bunnies roaming under the furniture and point out ALL the flaws. The fear is they will have nothing good to say about the condition of the house and point a finger at me, and say, “You’re an inadequate homeowner.”
But, wait… Life happened here. I am one person. I cannot do it all. I didn’t ask for help. And, the internal dialog of excuses intensifies. Damn it.
The vulnerability of someone picking apart all that I have allowed to fall to the wayside when I was in a space of “learning” is ruthless. Learning – that’s what I am calling the period of time it took me to wander through my darkest days/weeks/years. I uncovered a lot of teaching opportunities as I met my dark shadows of the soul head on.
I’m not lazy ~ I had a toxic job… my son died… Please allow me to give you an excuse I feel you’ll accept as to why it’s not perfect!
The learning experience (during the dark shadows of the soul) stripped away all the false illusions I had absorbed from other people’s description of me. Sparing you from the gory details, I found Me. The beautiful, intelligent, loving Me that makes me Me. It is through life’s experiences that we learn boundaries, self-appreciation, strengthen our bullshit meter, learn who we can trust and who we should gracefully excuse from our precious focus.
I’m certain the gentleman doing the inspection will have a list of things that need improvement. The anxiety has subsided momentarily as I look at the clock and know that I have only a few hours to vacuum, mop, scrub the toilets and put away the dishes. He’s here to look at the roof-line, the foundation and the structure. He’s not here to critique my cleanliness.
Once I acknowledged my uneasy emotions, I was able to see my inner critic snickering and teasing, “Gotcha!”
I am trusting all is well… I know it is time for me to hand the keys to the next owners. Life is an amazing adventure.