Making It All Mine

12/06/24

The plasterers are finished on the first phase (downstairs) and I’ve sufficiently recovered from the lung infection to have been able to start really getting on with the house renovations.

While in some ways it’s daunting that absolutely everything is my responsibility, the reality is, it’s not that different from the past. The primary difference is that I’m not going to be disappointed by hoping EH will join in and willingly help, which he inevitably wouldn’t.

Before I met him I’d decorated the house all by myself. Back then I’d fearlessly tackle pretty much any task that didn’t involve gas or electricity. I’m channelling that woman again.

Sod EH and his confidence destroying ways, I’m taking back ownership of more than just my home.

The process is proving to be more enjoyable, more freeing, more cathartic than I could possibly have imagined. What began, back in January, as an unenthusiastic desire to at least get some paint on the walls, has now become a project that fills me with energy, joy and inspiration.

I’m delighting in the process of stripping him away, it’s so emotionally cleansing. Everything he touched, sat on, walked on, looked at, had an opinion about, is, where possible, being removed. Within reason – I’m not going to change every nail, screw and door hinge – there are limits to my madness.

I’m feeling so much pride in the skills I’m learning, and the results I’m achieving.

• I’ve built a fire hearth, and refitted skirting boards, learning new joinery skills along the way.
• I’ve tiled the hall floor, working out the best way to cut those awkward angles.
• I’ve carefully chosen paint colours, checking how things look in different lights before making the final decision. Where I’ve not been able to find exactly what I want, I’ve played around with the ‘nearly’ colours, mixing different ratios, adding grey, or white, or whatever, until I have got the exact colour I want.
• I’ve changed the taps on the bath, persevering through 2.5 hours of being in what was essentially a stress position. I eventually beat the rust, the extremely tight space, and the tool I was advised to purchase but which didn’t work. I learned that even when my mind is telling me I can’t, my body can ignore it and keep on trying.

It makes me proud that I’m no longer telling myself I’ll just have to settle, that ‘it will do’. I know that I totally do deserve to live by the William Morris rule (“Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful“).

I’m coming out from under influences that had me believing that I want too much, that a tap is a tap is a tap (it’s not, some are beautiful, others utilitarian).

Searching out just the right things for finishing touches is time spent in a happy place, no matter how long it takes. When I find ‘it’, my heart sings.

Feeling my home evolve into a true reflection of me – actually living within my own vision of safety and comfort – that literally makes me take deep, chest swelling breaths of happiness. I smile at pictures and pat new door handles.

The process of removal of things has had no discernible pattern or flow. I’ll just find myself holding or looking at something with a little voice in my head firmly telling me, “Nope. That’s got to go.“

This has ranged over all sorts of items – door handles, mugs, cushions, my perfume (I don’t want to smell the same as I did with EH, so I’m currently getting samples so I can discover my new signature scent).

The most recent was the bathroom cabinet. I was standing, cleaning my teeth, looking in the mirror, when the little voice said, “Urgh. He squeezed his spots in this mirror.“

Within 20 minutes it was off the wall, and in the skip pile, a new one on its way.

I have had the odd moment where I question the wisdom of getting rid of a perfectly good item, necessitating expenditure to get a replacement. I mean, on a practical level, my budget is limited. Mentally, I’m still working on shifting the ingrained thinking that says if it functions you should keep it.

It’s easier to brush that aside when I think about how much better I feel each time I have one of these ‘right moments’. You can’t argue with the extra lightness of being, the sense of regaining control, the smile on my face, the swagger in my walk, each time I dump something else into the bin. If I were a cat, I’d be purring.

When I look around at what I’ve done in the house so far, I can feel good things swell inside me. This is all mine, for me. Not a scrap of it is tarnished by horrible memories and negative associations.

My target (possibly over ambitious, but one has to try), is to have the entire place done by the end of the year, at least in terms of major work.

I’m ok with still looking for those finishing touches, but I’ve gotta have carpet down before winter really sets in. I’d really rather not go through another season of frozen feet, layers of clothes and multiple hot water bottles.

Onwards and upwards!

JP