I Never Knew Selling Your House Was Such an Invasive Process...

Good evening, Wonderers.  As I mentioned in my last post, I'm trying to use blogging as a means of therapy (since I don't currently have time to take advantage of the free therapy sessions my mother's former therapist has offered to me), and since yesterday was a pretty awful day many ways around, I thought it would be a good excuse to write.

I'm not going to talk about driving out of my way to go to the Auto Club and deliver my request for a duplicate title to my car, only to find out that I only have to have my buyer fill out the reverse side of the request form because the form acts as the title.  And my registration is overdue.

I'm not going to talk about driving to two separate stores to find a hair catch for the shower drain, and how neither store had what I was looking for.  To be fair, one store had it, but they were out of stock.

I'm not going to talk about having to go to class on no sleep, filled with anxiety and frustration from 4-10pm.  Or how some of the girls in my cohort make me frustrated and jealous because they decided to take leaves of absence from work (or any number of other decisions to take responsibility and burden off their plates), whilst I'm watching my life fall apart around me.

What I'm going to talk about is the truly invasive, rapey process of selling a house.

Now, I'm not gonna say that I'm not extra emotional given the other circumstances of my life.  Doing pretty much anything is more difficult while simultaneously grieving the loss of my mother.  But I feel like I've been moving for the past three months and we are FINALLY down to the last week in my childhood home.

The thing that has affected me the most throughout this whole ordeal is the number of times I have been asked to LEAVE MY HOUSE.  I understand that it is easier to sell a house when the occupants are not there, but when all I want to do is curl into a ball and cry about everything that is happening in my life, being told to be anywhere but home is very upsetting.  Thankfully, the house was only on the market for four days before it was sold.  But since it has been sold, I have still been asked on multiple occasions to vacate the premises.  The buyers want to come by and look at the house again.  The buyers want to come make decisions about how they are going to "flip" it and sell it for a higher price.  As we are coming to the end of our move, my dad and I have been decidedly more emotional about leaving.  Yesterday was the straw that broke the camel's back.  Make no mistake, I didn't have an emotional outburst or throw a tantrum, or point a shotgun a la Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino.  But it certainly didn't make my terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day any better.

Yesterday, I called my dad on my way home from work to let him know that I would be returning to the house for a few hours before class.  I wanted to get more things done.  He told me that the buyers were there with their crew, taking measurements and making decisions, and that he was not thrilled about their presence in the house.  After my aforementioned adventures in frustration, I returned to my home to find the buyer and their contractors still at the house.  They were there for an additional hour before leaving for the day.

Am I wrong, or is it kind of inconsiderate and horrible that these people couldn't wait another SEVEN days for us to be gone?  It is also particularly difficult to pack up your stuff when there are people wandering around your house from room to room, and making you all the more painfully aware that your house is not your home anymore.  It also feels a lot like being forcibly removed from the building by a corrupt security guard.  As if to say, "you may leave at our earliest convenience."  I have been sexually assaulted and felt less raped than that.

So my internal response to these people is this:  You want me to get out?  I have news for you, this is still my house for a few more days.  YOU get out.  Get the FUCK out of my house!

Moving sucks.  Grieving sucks.  Bad days suck.

Rant over.