You’d think the worst part of selling a house would be the actions required. Messing around with estate agents, showing people round who might be disparaging, or not love your house as much as you do, all the things you need to do to prepare it for sale, all you need to do when you’ve sold, finding another house you love, or even like. Negotiating maybe, or handling the legal complexities, the setbacks, hassles and inefficiencies.
But no. All these may be irritating or difficult in their own ways, but they don’t come close to the endless wait, the void, being out of control to the degree you have no idea where you’ll be living in a few months. You can’t plan, can’t act, seem to be floating about in a space which was yours, but isn’t, even though it still is, which you have to keep tidier than normal, so you end up losing things all the time, having forgotten where you put them out of the way.
The wait can seem endless, might even be endless. You’re dealing not only with the incredibly poor laws surrounding house buying and selling, and people who don’t keep you informed, and the vagaries of the housing market, but your own sense of helplessness and frustration, of waiting without much of an option to do anything to change it.
I’ve felt for a little while now that I’m filled with an energy for doing what needs to be done, but I can’t do it. Stress has a purpose, when you can do something productive with it. I have a friend who is going through the same process, is now further on than me, but has also been enduring it for considerably longer. She confirms the fact that once you have somewhere useful to use that energy it all feels fine, as I myself feel, even without being there yet.
Even if you know you have to trust the process, that it will probably work out in the long run, that all things will come together at the right moment (whatever that may mean, you have no idea); you have to let it go over and over and over. Sometimes several times in a day, though you may arrive at a place of acceptance for a while, something will happen, or won’t happen, which knocks you out of that place again. You have to find it repeatedly. But what you’re finding is not the right thing to do, but being prepared to do nothing at all, without nothing being a void of inactivity. It’s quite the oxymoron. An unnatural state which you may have to live for an unpredictable and unknown length of time. I hate it. I remember why I decided I never wanted to do it again last time, and hope beyond hope that I can really make this the last.
Don’t worry. I’m ok. I’ll do what I need to do when I need to do it, and will do nothing at all and try to get on with my life when I don’t. I am now familiar with standing on the starting block with one aspect of my being, while continuing to travel with another. I can do it. But I don’t have to like it.