Photo credit: BigStockPhoto/ilixe48
Houses
by Wendy G.Turner, PhD, MSW
Last year, I decided to leave my abusive house. You read that correctly: house, not spouse. I was in a very unhealthy relationship with my house. Our relationship to “home” is an under-recognized aspect of self-care.
A Dream House Becomes a Nightmare
I fell in love with her five years ago, when I was going through a divorce. She was a grand old Queen Anne, built in 1889 with five bedrooms, five bathrooms, a carriage house, and enough projects to keep me occupied and distracted from grieving the end of my marriage. In divorcing, I was leaving a large home where I could entertain faculty and students, as well as friends and family. This house would still provide that gathering space for others to enjoy. Since childhood, I’d dreamed of owning a big, beautiful Victorian home like this one. So, I purchased her.
It was lots of fun at first, which was a honeymoon period. Simple, cosmetic changes and a good cleaning brought life back to this dream home. I relished my independence and was proud of my DIY skills. However, over time, the repairs became more expensive and less fun. I was spending thousands of dollars on electrical repairs, HVAC updates, and plumbing issues...lots of plumbing issues. These items brought no real joy.
Leaving a Toxic Relationship
With those items depleting my bank account, the fun projects had to wait. However, they didn’t wait patiently. Every room spoke in a nagging voice. Unfinished projects demanded immediate attention. Every step on the stairs shouted, “Sand me!” Every drafty window moaned, “Replace me!” Even cleaning the house took days. I could no longer relax at home because of the countless hours and constant reminders of a mounting, relentless To-Do list.
I realized: I didn’t own my home. The house owned me. Increasingly, it controlled my time, money, energy—much like other abusive relationships had done to me previously.
The house was also located in a neighborhood that had more than its fair share of social problems. I’d made countless calls to 911 for domestic violence, drug overdoses, and gunfire. I spent my days working as a social worker and my evenings addressing social crises on my block.
My home wasn’t a refuge. I felt trapped and overwhelmed, drowning in toxicity. Beautiful woodwork, high ceilings, or even childhood dreams weren’t enough to balance the economic and emotional costs of staying in this house. After a health crisis, and with my daughter moving away for graduate school, I decided to leave this toxic house relationship.
Discovering Home as Sanctuary
Initially, I was sad. I was giving up a dream and felt this leaving was another failure. All the plans I’d envisioned for the house were crushed, just like my marriage had crumbled five years earlier. Not one to give up easily, it was difficult to admit the house had defeated me. It helped to realize the money I’d save in a smaller, more energy efficient home could be used to help my daughter with the costs of graduate school. So, I listed the house for sale and began searching for my new home.
This time, I wasn’t looking for a home to replace a lost relationship or to fulfill a childhood dream. I wasn’t seeking a place that others would enjoy visiting. This time, I was looking for a sanctuary that would support me and provide a refuge from the world’s stressors.
I wanted a home that embodied my desire for self-care, and for the first time I allowed myself to realize self-care is not selfish. It’s self-filling. I found a home that fills me up, rather than beats me down. I found a home with everything I needed and wanted, without regard to what others might want or expect. I love living in this new home. Cozy and warm, it wraps around me like a soft blanket, providing comfort and support.
Best of all, it doesn’t own me. I own it. And, we’re living in harmony. Sometimes self-care requires leaving an abusive house to find yourself a nurturing home.
Wendy G. Turner, PhD, MSW, is a professor of social work and BSW Program Director at the University of Southern Indiana. She is also an assemblage artist who creates pieces that address issues of social, racial, environmental, and economic injustice.