I've lived in my house for almost 11 months. It's taken a long time for me to feel like it's really mine, to feel comfortable here. That is because my mom was diagnosed 4 days after I closed, so I never got that "honeymoon" period with the house. In fact, I was pretty resentful for a long time that I was "stuck" here, and didn't have the freedom to leave Richmond.
This house reminds me of Mom being sick, of our last family Christmas party where she had started to lose her hair and her voice.
It reminds me of coming back after she had died, to get clothes for the funeral, and sitting on the couch with the lights off, feeling desperately alone.
It reminds me of everything I won't have a chance to tell her, or ask her, or share with her.
While she was sick, and for a long time after she died, I went home (to my family's house) every chance I could, every day off from work. The last couple months I've actually started really spending time here. About a week ago, for the first time in forever it seems, it hit me that this is MY house, and it's a great house, and I was excited about it being my place.
I'm taking some vacation from work this week, and I decided that instead of going to the beach or whatever, I was going to stay HOME. In Richmond. And feel at home here. I'm actually in the process of painting my bedroom, which was supposed to happen within the first week I lived here. I'm taking ownership of my home, and making it mine.
So anyway, here are the before pictures!
As you can see, the color is awful. I'm surprised it hasn't driven me crazy yet, but I guess I've been distracted by bigger issues. Also, one day I will have real furniture. The bedside tables are the only furniture in the room that weren't free! Also, the curtains don't match and desperately need to be hemmed. At least I hung them in the first place! Those and the blinds are really all I've done to this room since I've moved in.