Change is hard

 I've continued on with the house renovations even tho 2 of my 3 adult kids are unhappy.

Severely unhappy. Snarky. Combative. Rude. Verging on assholery.

We bought this house in 1994. Moved in lock, stock and barrel. 

Unpacked our boxes and started living here. No renovations, no new paint, nothing.

Moving is expensive. Three preteen kids can also be expensive. So can regular every day living.

So for 28 years we lived with the old carpet and the old wood paneling, plaster and lath walls, sketchy electrical switches and outlets, and the plumbing....don't get me started about the plumbing issues.

Back then I worked 40 + hours a week at the doctors office. He was a full-time firefighter/medic.

All three kids had school, friends, after school extracurricular activities, sports etc.

We were busy living our lives so the repairs to this old house took a back seat.

After he got injured while on that paramedic call, his back was never the same and surgeries and pain control took over our lives.

So the repairs again took a back seat to lifes problems.

Sometimes he'd start a project but would never finish it.

We showered for an entire year with plastic sheeting lining the walls of our shower because he took the tub surround out and couldn't find another one to fit the space.

He was worried about the electrical wiring in this 120 year old house so 25 years ago he took out the light in the stairwell leading to the kids bedrooms upstairs... never did fix it. He cut the wires and disconnected everything so it was safe but the children went up and down those stairs in the pitch dark for the next 20 years.

So what was he doing instead of fixing the house?

He bought boats, motorcycles, camping equipment, rifles, trucks, cars and two RV's.

We all enjoyed those toys and the kids still talk about how great their childhood was.

Camping trips, days spent on the lake boating, tubing and swimming, and vacations to Florida.

We, all of us, enjoyed each other and ourselves on those boating, fishing, and camping vacations.

But this old house paid the price by being neglected.

In March 2019 when Covid hit,  him and I redid the sitting room. New paint for the walls and ceiling, new furniture and a new ceiling fan. It turned out beautiful but the rest of the house was ignored.

In 2021 he got sick with pancreatic cancer and was too ill to work on the house or at his job as fire inspector.   He retired in October 2021 and died in January of 2022.

***********

Six months later I got drunk one night in June and texted a friend, an Interior Designer.

Told her I was sick of living in this undecorated house and could she help me fix it up?

She told me that she believed God had something to do with me asking her for her help.

(Uh, more like Chardonnay was my first thought.)

Come to find out she and her mother in law do this sort of thing for a living.

They enter a house, talk to the owner(s) and get a feel for their lives and their life story.

They talked to me and asked me how I met Art and about our lives and our relationship.

Then they walked through the rooms of my house asking questions about each room, what it had been used for and any ideas I had for future use.

I showed her a few pics from my Pinterest Dream House board, told her about a few ideas I liked.

She said it was all doable, no problem, that she'd be happy to help me, so I asked her for a contract.

"How much is this gonna cost me?" I asked. Pay for the materials and the contractor was her answer.

To say I was stunned speechless is an understatement. Total cost to me would only be $4,000.00.

In return I would get:

A new ceiling upstairs in the kids tandem bedrooms, painted walls and closets, old carpet tore up and thrown out and the rough walls sanded down (the former owner used something on the walls that made them sharp like needles. We used to call them "Damnit" walls, cuz when you got too close you ended up bleeding. We've all got scars from those damn walls.)

Also, new drywall for the living room walls, new floors installed in the sitting room, living room and kitchen.

They even did the first floor bedroom where Art spent his last days on this earth. In fact that's the first room they did. Those wonderful angelic, mystic women changed that room from a cancer patients room to a toy room for the grandkids and it completely changed the feeling of that room.

I wish the kids were all onboard with me and these changes.

It feels life changing to me in the best way possible, like I can breathe again.

Life has been so hard for the last 2 years and this feels like the change that I needed.

We all handle grief differently and I guess that they are just not ready for change like I am.

My sister says that I  deserve this, that it's ok to need to change, to want to change.

But it's hard to be the only one changing at the moment. They are not on the same page I am.

I want to apologize to them but I don't really know what I am apologizing for.

I am learning that it is ok to need to do something for ME for the first time in a long time.

But it still hurts all the same.

Love, Lolly

Friday Night and a bottle of wine

 On Friday nights in the Summer we used to jump on the Harley after he got home from work and head to Wisconsin.

We'd stop in Hebron, a tiny town on the border of Illinois and Wisconsin and eat at Crandall's an All You Can Eat Broasted Chicken place. 

Other times we'd go to Mad Dan's in Twin Lakes Wisconsin to eat our fill of breaded Perch. 

Once we'd eaten we would head home in the pitch dark. I'd  twine my hands around his waist and rest my chin on his  shoulder and let the cool breeze hit me in the face as he drove us home.  I was never afraid riding behind him on our Harley.  

 Our first motorcycle was a Honda Goldwing. Once while coming up to a stop sign at a four way he miscalculated the turn and dumped us over. I rode that bike right down to the ground sitting behind him. We landed sideways in the grass. 

"Next time don't take the corner so sharp" I told him. We never crashed again after that.

If he got home from work too late we'd go to our local Culver's and get burgers and ice cream sundaes.

We always ate the ice cream sundaes first. He'd get strawberries on his ice cream, and I got hot fudge.  

It was one of our favorite dates.

We were going to take that Harley with us in our RV and ride off in to the sunset after he retired.

I'm so sorry we never got to experience that. It makes me cry when I think about it.

Feels like life wasn't fair to us ever.  

So many times over the years him and I fought against each other and our circumstances and lost.

We lost our daughter, ourselves, jobs, our home, our fathers, our dreams and our way.

Just when things felt like they were turning around he got cancer.

He was set to retire in May but got sick the proceeding June.

He never made it to retirement in May nor his 59th birthday in July.

Lord but I miss that man.

Wine makes me cry. I need to stop drinking it.

Forgive me, I'm sorry. I miss him and I'm sad.

Love, Lolly

Moving on

 I'm ok. Sad but ok.

Sometimes with grief you gotta take a few steps backward in order to go forward.

We'll be all right. Healing takes time.

Part of me thinks it was their grief that was erupting, uncontrolled.

Maybe the sixth month mark was too soon for them to go through their childhood things.

I'm real sorry about that prom dress but there isn't anything I can do about it.

I've apologized. I've cried. I've felt tremendous guilt. Now I need to let it go.

In two weeks the contractor comes to fix the ceiling in the bedroom and closet.

Then we rip up the carpet (keep your fingers crossed that hardwood flooring is under that carpet).

After that comes the new furniture and then we will be putting some of their boxes back into one of the closets for storage. Did I tell you that there are 3 closets up there? I'm ok with storing some of their stuff,  just not the crap that needs to be thrown out.

Kate and Debbie, my Hoarder Helpers and I all agree that so much of that stuff in boxes is a fire hazard and is dangerous to keep in this 120 year old house.

So. Many. Papers. And textbooks...my god the books!!! All stored in cardboard boxes.

This old house of mine has Balloon Construction. Essentially it means that my outer walls are hollow and if a fire starts those hollow walls will act like a chimney and the fire will travel up those walls in a flash. Art and I found one hollow outer wall full of sawdust when we remodeled the bathroom. So some of these walls are filled with sawdust which will act as an accelerant. (I miss my Firefighter/Inspector. He was full of knowledge and so damn smart)

It already smells fresher in here. And I've found that clutter is heavy to the spirit.

I am looking forward to my project being finished. I hope the kids soon realize that I meant no harm.

It's just time, my time, to start moving on.

Love, Lolly

Just in case Part 2

The depth of their fury surprised me.

Their tears and the anger and harsh words was quite literally shocking.

They felt betrayed they said...BETRAYED!!

How could you?! they asked. We told you NOT TO she yelled.

That is our personal private stuff and you let them go through it!

You gave no thought to our feelings and you did it anyway!!!

My daughter was visibly shaking with rage.

"I didn't do it to be mean" I said. I explained my Mountain analogy to her.

You had no right, It's my house, I can't trust you anymore,  were phrases tossed about.

Both of the kids were accusatory and hurt beyond fixing.

She was unable to talk to me for days and she didn't quite agree with me on the mountain thing. 

My son was just as mad going so far as to threaten me "Don't touch our closets" or there will be repercussions. I lied to him and told him that his closet had already been done.

The next week I had them clean out his closet.

When he found out I lied he wanted to know the reason why, saying I must have had a very profound reason for lying to him.

I didn't have a profound reason. I didn't even have a really good reason; only that I wanted the closets cleaned out, that I wanted to keep moving forward, that the heaviness was being removed from the house and I knew if we stopped it would never get finished.

In my own defense these women are not throwing anything out. They are simply organizing it into piles so the piles are easier to sort through, to know what to keep, what to throw out, donate, etc.

"How can you want to have all of these piles of boxes in the sitting room?" they asked.

That's the sorting room I told them. I think it will be fun to sort through these boxes together, you know? Kind of like reliving your childhood years and reminiscing.

"Why would I want to do that?" she replied.  I was speechless.

She and her husband took as many boxes as they could fit in to their car and left, both of them angry.

My son got angry that his papers had been gone through and that I had cleaned out his closet when he had expressly told me not to. 

Nothing was thrown away, only sorted I said again. And they didn't go through your papers.

Again he threatened me..."Don't touch Maddie's closet or dad's gun safe. You are gonna cause damage that can't be repaired."

The following week my daughter came and emptied her own closets. When I asked her if there was anything left she told me only prom dresses that she didn't want.

And here is the next story...

The ladies came back to finish up cleaning her room the next day.

Part of the ceiling had also collapsed in her closet and the prom dresses and my wedding dress were covered in dirt, When the ladies asked me to go through and see if there was anything I wanted to save before they finished, I saved 3 items.

A small pair of Lederhosen, a toddler sized traditional German dress and a purple dress that my other daughter had seen and wanted.

The rest could go, including the old prom dresses and my wedding dress.

My son was surprised that I would get rid of my wedding dress.

"Really Ma?! Your wedding dress?"

I'm never going to wear it again, nor would it fit me. His sisters are already married so they don't need it. It wasn't put away correctly 40 years ago, it was dirty and probably damaged beyond repair.

So off to the local donation store it all went. I had no second thoughts. I was relieved.

Until my other daughter saw the empty closet and asked where the peach prom dress was.

Gone I told her.   "BUT I wanted that one" she said.

Well shit.

I've been to that donation store every day for the last 3 days and the dress is not there. They were given a description of the dress and the day and time that it was dropped off but still no sighting.

I feel heart sick. Somehow I have ended up hurting all 3 of my grown children.

I wish I had never started this whole project.

All 3 of the kids are upset, heartbroken, betrayed.

Something irreparable has been damaged and I caused it.

I feel guilty. I'm sorry. And I am sorry that I ever touched their things.

*********************

I got a text from my son yesterday. 

He will be coming over next week Sunday to take his boxes and his dad's gun safe so "I no longer have to worry about those things."

*********************

I wish that they could understand that I never meant it to be painful. I never meant for it to feel like a betrayal.

I saw a huge mountain of stuff that needed to be moved. I felt that mountain resting heavily on my shoulders, and the weight was causing me more grief. 

I only wanted to move the mountain. I was worried about the size of that mountain while my kids were worried about what that mountain was made of and who saw it.

I am not sure where to go from here. I feel a tenseness from them all.  Like a door has been opened that shouldn't have been opened and now cannot be closed.

****************

The ladies wanted to start on my kitchen cabinets today and I told them not to come. I told them I needed some time. Plus the sorting room is still full of boxes that my kids have not gone through in the 4 weeks since this all started.  Sorta feels like a punishment if I'm honest.  You're ok with these boxes being left in this room? Fine. We will let them sit there then. They didn't say that but that is how it now feels. 

I miss my husband, I miss my old life, I miss the camaraderie I used to have with my children.

I miss the joy I imagined I would have sitting in my little nook staring out the windows at the trees.

Just in case you needed to know...

Grief is a long, lonely journey.

Make your changes gradually.

Love, Lolly

Just in case Part 1

 

I've hired two women to help me shovel out the Hoarders Nest that I call home.

Art saved SO MUCH SHIT!

Cardboard boxes from small appliances..."Just in case"

Old medicine...again..."Just in case"

Shoes he never wore or hated or that pinched

Miscellaneous keys, screws, hardware bits and bobs

The last two feet of unused vinyl flooring.

Upstairs in the kids rooms was worse.

They have all moved out and moved on but the second level of this house 

has remained their dumping ground and storage facility.

Art was a major contributor to this mess also.

He kept his hunting and camping gear in there along with TVs that no longer worked, old computers, and other things he had no place for in the rest of the house. 

If he didn't know what to do with it, it went upstairs.

Eventually the upstairs became unusable, with both bedrooms packed with crap.

All of the kids college boxes were up there unused and unopened since they came home.

Old college notebooks, textbooks, dorm room stuff, stereos from the 80's.

My wedding dress, the girls old Prom and Homecoming dresses hung in the closet too.

Parts of the ceiling in this 120 year old bedroom had started to come down.

Plaster and Lath and fermiculite rained down on any one who dared open the door and go in.

It was like this before Art got cancer. Before he got ill him and I both wanted to clean out the upstairs and turn one bedroom into a guest room for the grandkids sleepovers.

The second bedroom would become my little nest, my little holy place, my nook...

A place for me to light my candles, to read, to write poetry, to stare out the window at the trees.

To me it was/is/has the best view in the entire house and I've coveted this room for years.

But the thought of actually cleaning it always overwhelmed us too. It was a  mountain of stuff.

We'd close the door and say "We'll do it another day."

*********

I waited six months after Art died before I touched any of it. 

One day I went upstairs, opened the bedroom door and the sight that greeted me was no different than the sight that had greeted me for 10 years or more. Only this time I felt like I had had enough.

I was sick of the mess. I wanted to shovel out these rooms. I was living in a house full of trash.

It felt like I was suffocating under the weight of the stuff left upstairs. 

I couldn't breathe and I wanted this shit gone. 

I was the one living here, by myself, left with the trash, the memories and the grief.

I told the kids that I was going to hire these woman to help clean and sort the mess.

And the kids balked. Don't do it they said. We will do it. We are busy, give us time to do it.

Now before ya'll think I am as cruel as my kids now think I am-

They have been saying that they would "get to it" for years now but it never got done.

They all have lives, kids, jobs, houses of their own. There was never time to do it.

Sumertime it was way too hot upstairs. Spring, Summer and Fall raced by and before we knew it another year had gone by and it never got done.

So.

I called a friend of mine who is an interior designer to come over and give it a looksee. 

That's when she told me that she and her mother-in-law also did hoarders nest cleaning.

It felt like an answer to my problem especially when she told me they would do it for free. 

No charge for their services because I was her friend. I only had to pay for the new bedroom ceiling to be put in and for any knew furniture that I chose.

When my kids found out they were embarrassed that I would show a complete stranger the size of the trash mountain that was housed upstairs.

I told them that it was being done for free and that I trusted these women. I told them that nothing was being thrown away, only sorted into piles or boxes to be gone through at a later date, that it would all be organized and much easier to sort once the mountain was removed from the rooms.

We chose the sitting room on the first level as the sorting room because nobody ever used that room.

It was going along nicely, the boxes were coming downstairs, the trash was being thrown out, I could see progress being made. They worked for 10 hours that first day. And the difference I felt and saw was amazing. It felt like a weight was being lifted off of my shoulders. I was thrilled.

And then the kids found out. And all hell broke loose.