ISSUE 981 - AUGUST 2023

I'm selling my house. I've wanted to for about four years, and I'm finally pulling the trigger. With my sons moved out and COVID in the rear view mirror, it's time to live my dream… a life unencumbered. 

I've been rattling around in this old place like a ping-pong ball bouncing off the bumpers. I look around at all this "stuff" and realize I don't need 80% of it! The house is big; the yard is huge. How did I keep up with all of this? It doesn't matter; I don't want to anymore. 

Not only am I selling my house, I'm selling almost everything in it. I'm going to be a nomad! It's simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. I've owned a home since I was 23 years old. Forty years later, my only wish is to be homeless, well, in an Airbnb, glamping kind of way. (I'm not a camper kind of girl). 

Moving is one of the top three most significant stressors humans can endure and part of the reason why I dragged my feet a little. But here I am, moving to--nowhere. That's the first question everyone asks, "Where are you going?" I don't know. Where the wind blows me, I guess. 

How fun is that?!

As a realtor, I've watched my clients in a panic during their real estate transactions. People who are usually highly logical, rational, and sane will, for some reason, lose their minds when you throw a real estate transaction in the mix.

I am being reminded of this right now. And yes, my sanity is in question. I can't keep track of anything. I get triple my 'steps' every day just by backtracking alone. I find myself crying several times a day. Not because I am sad (although that's one of the choices from the emotional grab bag that is my existence currently) but because I'm so overwhelmed. 

Have you ever seen a little kid start crying because they are experiencing sensory overload? That's me, a little toddler, walking around my house crying because I have to sell this and take that to storage. Do I keep this? Do I donate that? Will I miss this? Will I need that? Do I put this in a box? What do I do with the box? You can see why I start to cry. 

In my quest for life unencumbered, I must choose carefully what I want to take with me and what must be left behind. This process is challenging, even though change is exactly what I want.

If you're like me and you have a house that you’ve renovated, you've spent money, time, sweat, and in my case, real blood (not metaphorical blood) because I'm a klutz. This extra layer of skin in the game (literally) makes the process even harder! 

Renovated or not, our home is where we feel safe and comforted. A sanctuary where we can be ourselves, dancing around the living room in our underwear if we want. It's all of those things and so much more. It's a place of love and family and is our harbor from our challenges. 

It's a big deal. 

So why am I trading in all this comfort and unabashed underwear dancing for new adventures? Great question. Other than hearing freedom calling, I got nothing. 

Strangely, not having answers adds to the thrill! Wish me luck.