I feel so sad for your house. You brought it to vivid life. I could almost hear it speaking to you..
I realize that I have never launched a relationship with a dwelling without reminding myself that it is temporary. I have never fully decorated or settled all the way in. I pick a room usually and it becomes the place I call home. Even now, after 20 years in a house I have loved and share with someone I love, there are walls that are still waiting for photos to be put on it. I wonder if I have a commitment problem.
Ah, that's interesting! Sounds like something worth exploring.
What you HAVE decorated, did that come in pieces? Meaning, only you know if you have an issue with commitment but you HAVE been in a relationship and in the same home for 20 years, which sounds pretty stable. Perhaps the blank walls are waiting for something, waiting for the future or whatever it is you are still planning to create or do?
and yeah, I felt really bad for my house too. In the end, I sold her to a single woman with a dog who worked from home and fell in love with it. (all very much like me) I sold it for less than I bought it but I felt like she was the right person to care for her as I had. She even wanted me to leave the mezuzahs that were nailed in doorways from her house blessing, so I think that's a good sign. Still, I can't bear to go back and see her.
Honestly, I think it is a holdover from all the years I lived in apartments, always looking for a cheaper rent. Later, when I could afford the rent my son had left the nest and I was working harder than I ever had. I'm a homebody but I have lived long enough now that a house means something different than it might have when I was younger. I see so many things as temporary now and the weight of things is heavier than ever before. Including the house. The thought of putting up pictures now when the topic of down-sizing comes up regularly feels wrong. I don't know. It's kind of a difficult area these days.
In answer to your question, I have set up my side of the bed, the bathroom, and my office the way I want it. The dogs rule in our house too now so many of the other rooms are "decorated" with them in mind.
I can relate to decorating with dogs! Like kids. It's got to work for them! And yes, down-sizing, I can relate to that as well. Sounds like your home is just fine the way it is. When it needs to change, you'll know.
I've never had that sort of relationship to a house. Perhaps if I had the disposable income to do everything I would want to it, remodel and decorate it exactly the way I would choose, then I would feel that sense of intimacy. I felt the reverse of intimacy, aversion, for my parents house, which was the sight of much trauma and grief when I was growing up. My mom is elderly now and the house is crumbling, which is perhaps a function of age and neglect. But I also can't help but feel like it's like the house is rotting from the inside out, not unlike our family.
I have, however, felt that sense of personification for land before. I grew up for most of the summers of my childhood in middle Virginia-- hiking her trails, canoeing her rivers, climbing her cliffs. The first time I drove south onto I-81 after years of living out West when we crossed over the Virginia state line, my skin almost started to itch, my breath became rapid. I was glued to the window like one of those weird Garfield suction things that people used to put on their car windows. I felt at home in a way I hadn't for nearly two decades. It was overwhelming and beautiful.
Your assessment of your parent's home sounds spot on. As for your not having an intimate relationship with a home, that may actually stem from your childhood as well. I have never had disposable income - I've always decorated my homes with used furniture. I pretty much only shop at thrift stores. Even shopping this way comes with a sense of intimacy for objects - "throw-aways" that others thought were trash and I found and rescued, to me they are treasures. But perhaps we learn to feel for objects when we are young and if our childhood is spent in a place of trauma, where there is no love or treasure, it is a challenge to feel this as an adult.
Ah, but your connection to Virginia!!! How wonderful! Those summer spent hiking and canoeing, and climbing sound care-free and fun. Virginia was the place where you could be a kid, fully alive - not watching your back or aching under the pain in your parents' home. So it makes sense that Virginia is your place. And anything that looks or smells or feels like Virginia will also feel like home to you. This is a gift.
hahahah!! When were you in Venezuela? I was there twice, in 1996 and 1997. The second time was backpacking down to the Brazilian border - most amazing experience of my life. And yes, got to see Angel Falls from a distance.
Tom has that relationship with his house in spades. She is his favored mistress. Me? I’m only the wife. He built her with his bare hands and willed her into existence. He pines for her from 2300 miles away. He spends summers with her and winters with me. I know my place but I’m not jealous. She is rented now with tenants. He is jealous. I cash the rent checks so I am the pimp. LOL. She is quite profitable as it turns out. People from out of town pay a lot of money to sleep with her. Whenever he is sulky and sullen I know he is wanting to be with her and not me. But she likes me too so I guess we’re a thruple.
This is fantastic!!! YES! He built her, he birthed her! Almost like Pygmalion - creating the perfect woman - he created his perfect house. She can't talk back, she can't complain, she can't make demands (like a wife can) - a mistress indeed! Thank you so much for sharing this! It really makes me smile. :)
My other house in Idaho was very haunted. I was single and lived alone. “He” would leave the toilet seats up in the bathroom. He would put my mail in the ice maker, put the garage door up and down and up and down every night at 3am. He would call my clients at 2am from my land line when I wasn’t home. Sometimes he would place his ice cold hand on my arm when I was in bed. I adopted two huge dogs. I had to drag them into the house. There was one room they utterly refused to enter. I finally told him I acknowledge him and that it was his house but that we could both live there. Nothing else ever happened again.
WOW!!! How long did this go on? Did you ever find out anything about him?
Decades ago, a college professor told me the purpose of all art (literature, music, etc) is TO CONNECT. I've never forgotten that. As humans, we just want to know we exist, we matter, that someone notices us, hears us, sees us. You gave that to him. And in the end, that's all he needed - he needed to know that you knew he existed. And that you could live together. Pretty profound.
Gosh this sounds so so similar to the relationship I have with my home . Strangely enough we have been trying to move and the house is not letting us go .it’s strange but I love my home but for practical reasons we have to move and yet it doesn’t work out. I have conversations with my home too , not just this one but my childhood home too .
Wonderful that you are having conversations and feel the connection! I made it sound like my house answered me so easily but it wasn't like that at first. For a long time, the only way I could hear her is if I sat with a pen and paper when I talked to her. I would start the conversation on paper and then speak it. Everything I said, I would write down. Eventually she would respond through my hand. I would write her responses. It's not easy at first but it comes. Maybe she can tell you why she doesn't want you to leave. Maybe it's something more than just practical or obvious.
Love that you have this relationship. It really makes me think of Hillman's statement that personifying is a way of knowing and feeling. Too often we lose this as we age.
I feel so sad for your house. You brought it to vivid life. I could almost hear it speaking to you..
I realize that I have never launched a relationship with a dwelling without reminding myself that it is temporary. I have never fully decorated or settled all the way in. I pick a room usually and it becomes the place I call home. Even now, after 20 years in a house I have loved and share with someone I love, there are walls that are still waiting for photos to be put on it. I wonder if I have a commitment problem.
Ah, that's interesting! Sounds like something worth exploring.
What you HAVE decorated, did that come in pieces? Meaning, only you know if you have an issue with commitment but you HAVE been in a relationship and in the same home for 20 years, which sounds pretty stable. Perhaps the blank walls are waiting for something, waiting for the future or whatever it is you are still planning to create or do?
and yeah, I felt really bad for my house too. In the end, I sold her to a single woman with a dog who worked from home and fell in love with it. (all very much like me) I sold it for less than I bought it but I felt like she was the right person to care for her as I had. She even wanted me to leave the mezuzahs that were nailed in doorways from her house blessing, so I think that's a good sign. Still, I can't bear to go back and see her.
Honestly, I think it is a holdover from all the years I lived in apartments, always looking for a cheaper rent. Later, when I could afford the rent my son had left the nest and I was working harder than I ever had. I'm a homebody but I have lived long enough now that a house means something different than it might have when I was younger. I see so many things as temporary now and the weight of things is heavier than ever before. Including the house. The thought of putting up pictures now when the topic of down-sizing comes up regularly feels wrong. I don't know. It's kind of a difficult area these days.
In answer to your question, I have set up my side of the bed, the bathroom, and my office the way I want it. The dogs rule in our house too now so many of the other rooms are "decorated" with them in mind.
I can relate to decorating with dogs! Like kids. It's got to work for them! And yes, down-sizing, I can relate to that as well. Sounds like your home is just fine the way it is. When it needs to change, you'll know.
I've never had that sort of relationship to a house. Perhaps if I had the disposable income to do everything I would want to it, remodel and decorate it exactly the way I would choose, then I would feel that sense of intimacy. I felt the reverse of intimacy, aversion, for my parents house, which was the sight of much trauma and grief when I was growing up. My mom is elderly now and the house is crumbling, which is perhaps a function of age and neglect. But I also can't help but feel like it's like the house is rotting from the inside out, not unlike our family.
I have, however, felt that sense of personification for land before. I grew up for most of the summers of my childhood in middle Virginia-- hiking her trails, canoeing her rivers, climbing her cliffs. The first time I drove south onto I-81 after years of living out West when we crossed over the Virginia state line, my skin almost started to itch, my breath became rapid. I was glued to the window like one of those weird Garfield suction things that people used to put on their car windows. I felt at home in a way I hadn't for nearly two decades. It was overwhelming and beautiful.
Your assessment of your parent's home sounds spot on. As for your not having an intimate relationship with a home, that may actually stem from your childhood as well. I have never had disposable income - I've always decorated my homes with used furniture. I pretty much only shop at thrift stores. Even shopping this way comes with a sense of intimacy for objects - "throw-aways" that others thought were trash and I found and rescued, to me they are treasures. But perhaps we learn to feel for objects when we are young and if our childhood is spent in a place of trauma, where there is no love or treasure, it is a challenge to feel this as an adult.
Ah, but your connection to Virginia!!! How wonderful! Those summer spent hiking and canoeing, and climbing sound care-free and fun. Virginia was the place where you could be a kid, fully alive - not watching your back or aching under the pain in your parents' home. So it makes sense that Virginia is your place. And anything that looks or smells or feels like Virginia will also feel like home to you. This is a gift.
Awe, you’re writing about me again! Venezuela is a beautiful yet hideous place. I shall return. Phil
hahahah!! When were you in Venezuela? I was there twice, in 1996 and 1997. The second time was backpacking down to the Brazilian border - most amazing experience of my life. And yes, got to see Angel Falls from a distance.
Wow, I wanted to see it but weather kept me away. Must say, some of the worlds most beautiful women.
After a bit all of my houses became burdensome, I divorced each, with compassion.
That one sentence says a lot! and I appreciate the experience is one of compassion. - for the house, as well as for yourself.
Tom has that relationship with his house in spades. She is his favored mistress. Me? I’m only the wife. He built her with his bare hands and willed her into existence. He pines for her from 2300 miles away. He spends summers with her and winters with me. I know my place but I’m not jealous. She is rented now with tenants. He is jealous. I cash the rent checks so I am the pimp. LOL. She is quite profitable as it turns out. People from out of town pay a lot of money to sleep with her. Whenever he is sulky and sullen I know he is wanting to be with her and not me. But she likes me too so I guess we’re a thruple.
This is fantastic!!! YES! He built her, he birthed her! Almost like Pygmalion - creating the perfect woman - he created his perfect house. She can't talk back, she can't complain, she can't make demands (like a wife can) - a mistress indeed! Thank you so much for sharing this! It really makes me smile. :)
My other house in Idaho was very haunted. I was single and lived alone. “He” would leave the toilet seats up in the bathroom. He would put my mail in the ice maker, put the garage door up and down and up and down every night at 3am. He would call my clients at 2am from my land line when I wasn’t home. Sometimes he would place his ice cold hand on my arm when I was in bed. I adopted two huge dogs. I had to drag them into the house. There was one room they utterly refused to enter. I finally told him I acknowledge him and that it was his house but that we could both live there. Nothing else ever happened again.
WOW!!! How long did this go on? Did you ever find out anything about him?
Decades ago, a college professor told me the purpose of all art (literature, music, etc) is TO CONNECT. I've never forgotten that. As humans, we just want to know we exist, we matter, that someone notices us, hears us, sees us. You gave that to him. And in the end, that's all he needed - he needed to know that you knew he existed. And that you could live together. Pretty profound.
Gosh this sounds so so similar to the relationship I have with my home . Strangely enough we have been trying to move and the house is not letting us go .it’s strange but I love my home but for practical reasons we have to move and yet it doesn’t work out. I have conversations with my home too , not just this one but my childhood home too .
Wonderful that you are having conversations and feel the connection! I made it sound like my house answered me so easily but it wasn't like that at first. For a long time, the only way I could hear her is if I sat with a pen and paper when I talked to her. I would start the conversation on paper and then speak it. Everything I said, I would write down. Eventually she would respond through my hand. I would write her responses. It's not easy at first but it comes. Maybe she can tell you why she doesn't want you to leave. Maybe it's something more than just practical or obvious.
Love that you have this relationship. It really makes me think of Hillman's statement that personifying is a way of knowing and feeling. Too often we lose this as we age.