the sign in the yard and white dudes in suits

Yesterday our house was listed. It was really hard.

I went to therapy and as I told her about the house I burst into tears. And I cried and I cried.

My therapist said that it's a loss, and it's normal to feel grief over a loss. And it is. I thought I was done. That I had gotten to where I was supposed to be. That this house was my home. That H and I would build a life there together. And that it would be beautiful and welcoming.

So now, it's an object for sale. There is a sign in our yard. There are flyers in an information box on our yard. And that our house is being judged. I feel like I'm naked.

Part of me wants to tell our realtor that we've changed our minds. That we don't want to do this. And we don't. Neither of us does.

I don't know, y'all. My therapist reminded me that I'm going through a loss, and loss makes you look at what you're losing. And you think of all the good things and not the bad. She said that this is the part of the process where people get back together: anything is better than the pain, you think. And then you're back in the same situation with all the same problems that you had managed to overlook in the middle of grief. I'm trying not to do that. I know what was wrong with our relationship. I know those problems are still there, and I don't want to go back.

But it hurts. And it's sad.

H and I talked last night about all this. He doesn't want to go back to the way things were either. The difference between us, though, is that he can't visualize the future. I can. I know I can be single, I know I can create a home for myself and my kitties, I know I have friends (if they're still around after I get through all this -- I have been a wee bit self-absorbed lately), I know I can be happy. I can't quite visualize another relationship, though, which is fine. I think I have much time before I can have a relationship. (Meaningless sex, maybe.) That's the mystery part of all this, not to mention that I have no idea where to even meet a man. Point is, getting to the next step will be hard, but I can see the next step. H can't. And I feel sad for him. And guilty, which is ridiculous. But I do.

There are some good things. I'm proud of even getting where we are. The work to get the house ready seemed HUGE, but we did it, so yay. I've started the process of being financially independent, which feels great. And it's almost cool that the next big decisions are out of our hands. We wait: the house might sell fast, it might take six months. That's kind of daunting, and usually I don't like decisions being taken out of my hands but just for now it's fine. It's breathing room.

And I have cleaning to do, but none of it's huge because it can't be. The house has to stay show-ready. So I'm actually thinking that I might be able to have a weekend. You know, do stuff? Awesome.

For now, though, I have to call middle-aged white guys in suits to plan my AR shoots. They won't call me back. and I have a frantic photographer who needs, oh, actual dates of shoots -- which I have to figure out if I ever get to talk to the white dudes in suits, that is.