Homes are hard work. If you don’t look after them, and nurture them with love and care, they won’t look after you. The solution? Take a deep breath, and fall back in love with the home that once made you happy.
Yelling “I’m miserable” down the phone just wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Something had to change, and it had to be me.
After the landslide, the resulting clean-up and what felt like a barrel of calamities, I was worn out by the time November rolled around.
I do have a flair for the dramatic, but the daily interruptions and running-around-behind-people-to-get-things-done took it out of me, and left me feeling miserable. And then, of course, the leak happened.
The leak, you say? Oh yes, that one. The one that ran above the kitchen and threatened our electricity supply. That brought with it three weeks of surprise renovations, as our family bathroom was ripped up, holes clanged into the exterior walls and, of course, fixing the leaks, repainting and repairs.
If there is one, sure-fire and solid-gold way to move me towards misery, it is this: interrupt me constantly while working. Add in a dash of having to keep the dogs locked up with me, and a good round of having to cancel meetings so that I can play a supervisory role and, honestly, I’m still surprised that I didn’t move out. I did threaten to.
I had fallen entirely out of love with our home, and it was making me impossible to live with (sorry, family, but at least I was open about it!). It no longer felt like home to me, and it showed.
Over December, however, I knew I had to fall back in love with our home. As with all good things, the external needs to match the internal, so I had to find ways to turn intentions into acts.
It began with an idea about our living room. We swapped our living and dining rooms around, creating an airy and bright TV lounge. It’s become our favourite space in the house. We started enjoying dinner outside, rather than sitting in a stuffy room on a humid Durban evening.
I cleaned out and rearranged the kitchen and felt in control of it again. I bought the expensive mint green bread bin I’ve had my eye on for ages. I re-committed to my morning walk routine. I hauled out my recipe books and started thinking of new meals to cook in the kitchen I fell in love with on the day we walked in the door.
These seem superficial, but they mean something to me. Regaining control of the space we live in, matched my longing to love living here again. I knew I had to, because we’re committed to a life here, but moving myself from misery to marvellous took meaningful action.
Just this morning, as I hit that ‘snooze’ button for the fifth time, rolled over and squeezed into a spot next to my snoring dog, the sun was rising over that ocean I look out to every day. Finally, it felt like home again.
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