I woke up this morning early, feeling eager. I thought about the house and some things I can do. I suddenly realized that I absolutely hate this house. It has been neglected for 40+ years and has so many problems. It is so cluttered that I can't clean, and getting rid of things is like declaring war. I understand why I hate this house. It is like a dreary, worn dungeon that creates nothing but stress. It is left in the will to me, but I've decided I don't want it. My mother has been holding it over my head, telling me I need to fix this and that on it. This is not a little thing. It is a daily stress she adds by coming up with some problem for me to fix. I have gotten where I shut down anytime she mentions the house, but I didn't understand why until this morning. I hate this house, and I can't wait to get out of it and leave it to the bulldozers.
My husband and I fought his cancer together in our home. He died four years ago..... and as I grieved there was great comfort for me within these four walls. I adored my wonderful husband and I'm not done grieving - won't ever be.
But it feels like our lovely home has been desecrated. It is crammed with nursing home stuff.....everywhere. A lot of our (his & mine) stuff is crammed away to make room for MIL and her stuff.
I know it's a selfish thought but I can't wait to lose the nursing home décor. (Sorry, I sound so awful...........just venting from the trenches).
get out of that house jesse. buy something small and effecient to heat and cool , and incidently, " yours " ..
But I do understand that your personal space, your tastes, your comfort items, can be a casualty of caregiving. I really feel for those of you who are no longer in "your" homes at all.
when my mom passes, I am calling in some antique appraisers and I'm gonna cash it all out. where I go from there, not a clue. but it will be cleaned out. it is nice stuff but does not mean a thing to me.
Once my dad went into the NH and I had to move I found an apartment (they call it a 'condo' because it has a vaulted ceiling) and I love it. It's almost the same size as that hovel in which I used to live but it's MINE. MY taste. MY décor. MY space. And so much less expensive since we moved farther out of the county.
I know exactly how you feel, Jessie. I was so ambivalent to the house I shared with my dad. It didn't feel like "home". It was a pit-stop. When I moved I never looked back.