The Game Changer: Part 6 of a 6 part series

  “Renaissance”

I watched as clutter stole a summer from me and my family.  It stole from me during the years it lived here, it stole from me as I did away with it this month and it is stealing from me as I type these blog entries.   Thank goodness it’s been great fun to write about.  But at least this batch of clutter will steal from me for the last time.  

I have found that a home is your partner.  It is not just a place to keep your stuff.  It can make or break you. 

I see how a cluttered house causes a cluttered mind, and a cluttered mind causes a cluttered house.  See how beautifully they work in tandem to destroy each other?  It really is the perfect storm.

I have found that ‘house’ and ‘body’ are really one and the same.  I need to be happy with the body and home I’m in, but still fight like a dog to streamline it.  It was hard to maintain weight loss when surrounded by an excess of house items and outdated ways of doing things.  Conversely, it was hard to improve my home because I was busy feeling bad about my weight.  I see how my home and body were busy sabotaging each other.  

This month has been intense, painful, full of tears, poorly timed and yet perfectly timed.  This summer did not start out about weight loss, and yet it will completely lead to weight loss.  I’ve been forced to rethink my whole life.  I have discovered some interesting benefits of devoting this year to my health, because all of these other evolutions are happening as an unexpected side benefit. 

I’ve heard that at seven year intervals, we go through intense mental and physical rebirth. I’m 49.  Did you see that?  49 is the seventh group of seven year cycles.  It’s the Golden One.  The Big One.  It makes sense that I am going through the Mother of all upheavals. 

As for all the things that broke or malfunctioned in our house, I had to read my horoscope just for shits and giggles.  Apparently, two planets are in retrograde, which is famous for causing issues with technology.  ‘Retrogrades always push us toward the past, and they’re important times for revising, editing, perfecting and fixing design flaws.  Having the rug pulled out is really a secret opportunity.’

I don’t really go for Astrology much, but I thought it was interesting that even the AstroTwins totally nailed what we were going through.

I feel that rebirth already.  I have 80% decluttered our house.  I have gotten rid of what I don't need, what makes me unhappy,  what I would NOT take to a new house, or what would embarrass me if I died suddenly.  My life is losing old clutter and I have room to take on new and better things.  As my house loses weight, I know I will follow. 

I’ve learned lessons in contentment, about being happy with your home (body) while striving for better.  That the energy spent in longing, should be used for action instead.  

Like I said, I had no idea my weight loss journey would suddenly take a left turn and become a decluttering phase for a few months.  Thankfully, I surrendered to it. And thank YOU for reading about it and for all your emails and feedback. 

Oh, and Primrose Lane, I have a message for you.  Thank you for crashing into my life.  I’m sorry it has taken four times for me to finally get clarity.  Thank you for teaching me about never, ever, ever giving up.  About heading full throttle into any dream, no matter how trite, and stopping only when I had exhausted every option. I know I didn’t end up with you, but if I had given up too early in the game, I would not have gained the lessons of July during my desperate quest to have you.

This is the most peace I have felt in decades.  If we ever meet again, I’m taking you out for a beer.   

Next time: back to normal posts again.  I've got more stories.

The Game Changer: Part 5 of a 6 part series

If you're just joining us, here are the links to the first four parts:

http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-1-of-6-part-series.html

http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-2-of-6-part-series.html 
http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-3-of-6-part-series.html 

http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-4-of-6-part-series.html

“On A Roll”

Hmm, my bag of discards....it sort of looks like a human heart. 

It only took one morning’s work before I started to taste victory.  I got into a rhythm once I had done all the setup you saw in Part 4.  This surprised me because I thought I’d be distracted and overwhelmed.  But my husband said I had ‘that look’ in my eyes, and he knew enough to avoid being a boulder in my steaming river of progress.  A shower or a quick snack or a killer song on the iPod was all I needed to recharge and keep climbing out of the valley.  My husband was the perfect team mate as he’d do the detailed things (sorting, loading the car, looking up stuff on eBay, etc.)  

I looked at each thing, and asked it those four questions. 

I tried to picture it in my future.  If not, I sincerely thanked it for its past.

Those items went to the pile of Goodwill bags in my garage.  Some things were harder to send off, (things that had memories attached) and I found it easier if I took an extra moment to say goodbye to what it meant to me.

Need I say more? Martha Slept Here.

I knew I was digging deep when I delved into some treasured stuff from my kids.   And then the sacred pile of Martha Stewart magazines, 1997-2006.  Nicely organized, in matching black magazine holders, orderly on the shelves.  This was my prized cache of the encyclopedias of home keeping, symbolizing a goal that I’ve never achieved.   But I managed to cull 96 copies down to a precious 30.  Why did I keep ANY?  Because a pumpkin hasn’t changed much in 15 years, and the stuff you do to it is pretty much the same.  Plus, I have a dream that at least once, I can have a kick-ass holiday.

As for memorabilia from the kids, it seemed silly to keep things packed away, never to be seen again.  I found a way to bring some out during holidays (I have packed them with the holiday decorations,) and now have one shelf of ‘crap art’ that I just display in all its preciousness.  It was painful to toss many pieces of art, but for every ten items, I kept the best three.  I’d ‘kiss’ things as I tossed, saying, “Thanks, but you’re now getting in the way of my time with my kids.”  

See the 'art shelf' at the bottom?  It completely took away my stress to have things on display instead of in boxes under the house.

“Closet Day!”  Going through clothes was easy.  I did my hair and makeup (it had been a few weeks as you can imagine, and I needed to see Lady Sheri again.)  I had a mirror ready too, with bad lighting just like Victoria's Secret.  If a blouse was borderline, I tried it on with pants, shoes and a necklace as if I really was going out.  If I couldn’t make it work, it was gone. Many of my shirts had mysterious little holes near the pant zipper.  I had been good at tucking them in, but now, I was tossing anything with holes.  I deserve clothes that don’t have holes. 

Lonely plastic hangers.  Emptied of their deadbeat clothes that I should have tossed sooner.

I found something interesting.   I had every color, mood and weather covered with my clothes and jewelry.  It had taken years to achieve this. And then, much like the life cycle of an appliance, the first ones I bought were looking worn and tarnished.  I thought I was following the rules by taking care of my things so they’d last.  Well, it only extends their life to the point where they look really haggard.  So, I guess I shouldn’t be trying to get a decade out of clothes…maybe just 5 years or less. The only things worth longevity, are marriage and friendship and relationships with my kids.

These clothes are leaving the house in the bags they came in.

My closet feels so good and I can hear it breathe, but not in a creepy way. If you had told me you had shopped for me and bought four huge bags of clothes to put back in my closet, I’d throw up.  I’d panic, not knowing how to squeeze them in there.  And yet somehow, that much WAS there just twelve hours earlier. 

Listen...you really can hear it breathe.

My laundry room deserves to be a part of the house and not treated like the stray cat.  It’s where we care for our clothes, and honor the time spent earning money for them, shopping for them and the work we do IN them.  Our time washing them should be done in a noble room for this worthy task.  It doesn’t have to be a pretty place: just a little cave that is like a work cubicle--functional, time-saving and one that doesn’t suck us dry or make us hate being in there.  Mine is in the garage with unfinished drywall and spiderwebs way up high, but at least the floor is clean and things are in straight lines, which appeals to my German-ness.

It's not much, but it's MY scullery.

My husband looked at our house after 15 solid days of this. 

It looked the worst it ever has, with its dirt and piles and Progress.  I was starting to look pretty used up too.  Some days, I can’t even remember if I showered. 

He said, “If you had told me this is what I’d be doing for most of my summer, I would have enjoyed the first part of it a lot more.”  

Well said.

The house became even dirtier.  We had to get used to it and it sucked.  Company came over often.  First time visitors somehow picked this month to get to know us.  I couldn’t even count the number of times I recited my own quote: “Hi…nice to meet you.  Pardon the mess. We’re decluttering.”  We grew to accept ‘camping dirt status’ in our house.  Every few days, I’d straighten the piles and vacuum around them because they were here to stay for a few weeks.  I had to lower my standards and treat the mounds like temporary guests.   You know, if they’re going to visit for a spell, might as well make it look real purty because company will keep showing up.  Cue the banjos.

Filling up the van to take to the Goodwill.  

I can’t believe it, but here are 55 bags and boxes in that van.  Most of it was really good stuff that would have made a killer garage sale. I looked at our Great Room and started to see order.  There was a bit more space, and things were now comfortably nested.  If you had bought 55 bags of things from Target and said, “Here!  Make this all fit in this room again!” it would be impossible, and yet, 55 bags of stuff came out of it.

I went through my historical clippings, which my husband calls my Tragedy Shelf.  It has books, newspapers and magazines about Princess Diana’s accident, The Titanic, Sept. 11^th and JFK Jr.’s life and untimely death.  Without stopping to ask the appropriate question: do we need to explore why I even have this stuff?  I compromised by keeping only the things that measured TEN on the Poignancy Scale. 

We took over 200 books to the library.  I caught a glance at one bag of my books and saw it full of these hefty titles: Time Management; How To Declutter; Making Time For Important Things; Simplify Your Life.  Oh, the sour irony as I tossed them on the bulging donation cart.  It dragged and sparked as we pushed it up the ramp. 

I have looked at every bead, pencil, pair of dice, playing card, towel, soap, polish, nail, button, etc. in our home.  Did I stop there?  No.  I did blankets, books, buttons, crayons, leaves, pencils and movies.  I relooked at everything down to the studs. I went through more than one hundred areas (drawers, cupboards, shelves, baskets).  If you had told me this at the beginning, that I would have over one hundred areas to look at, I would have set fire to my house.  Ignorance is bliss when you start this process.

I'm salivating.

A jar of buttons. Every house needs one because they're so cool.

I am taking steps to make sure that even things in the dark of my closets and cupboards are as organized as my living spaces.  These behind-the-scenes storage areas deserve order and my goal is to be able to put my hands on anything I need at any time.  

Yes, our tiny linen closet. It has continued to stay this way for several weeks, which tells me we must have witches.  I wanted to paint 'To Elevator' over the closed door, just to freak people out.

My tea drawer.  The straight lines and order of a storage space make my anxiety go away as I reach for the Thunderbolt Turbo-Roast coffee.  Plus, if I can find the caffeine quickly in the morning, everyone wins.   

On a softer note, as I zoomed through all these areas, one of them brought me to my knees in its horrible beauty.  I found a drawer containing sympathy cards from friends who sent words after my first miscarriage a decade ago.  One friend, who so wanted children of her own, found the most perfect thing to say:

"I feel so very much for you and the potential of that being who was blessed to be a part of you…even if it was only for a brief journey.  I will certainly vouch for that----even a brief encounter with you and your family can fill a soul up for eternity."

After reading that one (which I am keeping), I was unable to continue on and so it was a good moment to call it a night.

(click for Part 6 of a 6 part series: http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-6-of-6-part-series.html

The Game Changer: Part 4 of a 6 part series

   (If you are just joining us, here are parts 1-3 to get up to speed)

http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-1-of-6-part-series.html 

http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-2-of-6-part-series.html 

http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-3-of-6-part-series.html

This picture still gives me the willies.  Our house looked like this for all of July.  I present to you: The Work Floor.  

  

“The Brutality Of It All”

The entire month of July was vicious!  Once we made up our minds that we were in Mode d’ Declutter, it meant treating it like a full-time job.  We fired all burners to get it done so that the rest of the years would run better.  People have hired me to help them declutter and now I was taking on the most difficult client:  me.  Good luck with THAT one, I reminded myself. 

The problem with staying in the same house for 21 years, is that you never had the advantages of Moving Day.  So, your clutter becomes attached to your home like a cyst.  This was our one chance to mimic the glory of tossing things as if we were moving to a new place.

I began by blocking out huge chunks of time: no appointments, no social calls, no answering the phone.  I had to arrange play dates for my daughter or find projects for her to help me sort.  When it came time to look through her things, I included her in order to teach her how to part with belongings.  I once tried the time-tested way of stealing her toys and getting rid of them while she was in school.  However, it backfired when she saw one of her things at the Goodwill.  So, we are now into Full Disclosure.

Then, I found an area in my house that could be my sorting area.  This was my kitchen table and part of the floor around it.  We agreed that we’d all be okay at giving up the table for a while.  We'd eat while standing over the sink or maybe even at a real restaurant or outside on the patio.  For the record, we haven’t eaten on the patio even once this summer.  So, you do the math.  If you said the sink, you’d win the gold.

Then, I found every box, laundry basket and empty container I had, put it in a pile, and used them often to sort, store, move around, empty again.  These were very helpful fellas.

Next, and this was the most critical to keep me from running out of steam, was to do it by item, and not by room. Plus, it had to be removed from its area and taken to the sorting area.  For instance, I had “jewelry day” and I would remove all my jewelry from everywhere in the house, and plop it down on the sorting table, and only declutter the jewelry.  And then on “DVD day”, I’d do the same.  I had other days like “book day” “dishes day” “linens day” “toy day” “recipe day.” I’d go and hunt down the items which were stored scientifically in Tetris blocks all over my house, and then bring them all together for a dusty reunion.  I’m sure I was a squirrel in my previous life.  And of course it was during the Great Depression.

Jewelry, jewelry...come out wherever you are.  I had papers to label 'giving away' and 'fix.'  The 'fix' pile will probably become the 'giving away' pile next month.  Note the hi-def mirror. Just like trying on jewelry at Nordstrom.

This is why I group similar items and take them to the sorting table: because an item gets power from its regular location.  If you declutter where it normally rests, you tend to let it stay because it’s the only thing that fits there.  But when you throw it on the table to stand next to its brethren, it shivers as you stare at it.  Many times, its power is lost as it is out-shined by the better stuff and therefore, it must go.  Remove them from their friends and some can barely survive on their own merits.  Like removing a Mean Girl from her clique.

Grouping helped me see the wheat from the chaff so easily.  By removing items from their home and letting them see the light of day on my kitchen table, I saw them more clearly.  They had to deserve to go back to their room.  And once I got rid of the runts, I knew it was okay if things were not in the perfect sized container or closet or even the right room…as long as it was together, I could move it as a pod to the right area when I’ve finished.

If you do this, prepare to stink and get sweaty.  But for gawd’s sake, at least have the decency to floss daily.  Have quick food on hand, and make plenty of room for piles and dirt. I won’t kid you.  It wasn’t pretty and it drove me crazy.  My tiny house is normally hard to clean and I found the areas that hadn’t seen anyone’s dust rag for two presidential terms.

During the decluttering phase, the floor was full, and our appliances continued to break and get fixed by repairmen coming over.  We were trying to actually have life with our kids, because surprise! they were off for the summer.   It wasn’t the perfect time to do this Life Overhaul, but there is no perfect time.  We just hope for short memories and that my kids and friends will forgive me for the Summer of 2012.

However, there, in the Valley of Shambles with its low-lying dust cloud, I caught the faint smell of triumph approaching. 
Part 5 of 6.  With LOTS OF Embarrassing photos.  Here is the link: http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-5-of-6-part-series.html  

The Game Changer: Part 3 of a 6 part series

 “Clarity”

 

 (If you've just joined us, here are parts 1 and 2 to start you off:)  http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-1-of-6-part-series.html

http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-2-of-6-part-series.html 

By Monday, I managed an inner light set to Dimly Lit.  In order to survive this, I had to adjust to the new mindset: We are going to get our house ready to sell.  We will do everything to make it the most absolutely and perfectly clean, decluttered, repaired and well-staged dwelling.  I know that is a pretty tall order, but I embrace excess.  

And then we are going to keep it.

Yes!  You heard me correctly.  Get it ready to sell.  And then don’t sell it.  

Remember my prayer, “Please give me what I need and not what I want.”  Well, it arrived.   

I begrudgingly started to see this was what I needed, but I didn't like it very much.  And just when I thought I had been shown the entire lesson of the summer, the kind Man upstairs reminded me of a second lesson.  It was something I already knew: Your house and your body are actually related. 

I was given two lessons for the price of one.  How did I rate a double scoop?

So, about this 'house equals body' thing.  Kitchens are the heart and certain rooms can be the ‘head.’  The reason there is clutter is because there is a room that is the rear end, plugged up and constipated, stopping the flow and thus, in bad need of an enema.   For us, it is our garage.

I feel like weight loss is harder in a ‘full’ home because of the distractions and clutter and unfinished projects.  Like I said, I like my stuff and it all has a place in my house, but I have come to the conclusion that my family and I have a life that is now bigger than our home can contain. I need more room in my house, just like I need more room in my pants.  If I had more room, I could think and focus on my weight loss and health. My things are spilling out of my house, like my tummy is spilling out of my capris. 

I’m spending my time in all the wrong places; too much back tracking, too much holding on to thoughts and things. 

Is this why my weight loss has stalled out?  Is this why there has been no progress?

And ‘physical items’ were not the only clutter.  The other type of clutter was the outdated way we did things in our home.  It suddenly occurred to me it was time to rethink my phone, our house, how I do coffee, how I interact on email, where we watch movies as a family, where my daughter plays, the way we eat, do homework, where we do our projects, how we do our paperwork, manage our home, interact with the family, where I get dressed, how we prepare dinner, where my to-do lists go and how I will manage the pile of deadlines for my son getting ready for college next year.  Even the rooms where my kids sleep are no longer the right rooms. 

I wasn’t ready for this, but it was coming in loud and clear that we needed to revisit our systems and the way we did things and lived our lives.  They served us well in the past, but they just don’t serve us NOW.  We’ve changed. Our kids are changing, so why are we doing things the same?  Our current setup has not kept up with us. 

 

House, body, mind, clutter, weight.  All connected like the Olympic rings. I knew it in my head, and now I was seeing it with my very own eyes.   I knew it was great that I finally saw how much I needed this lesson, but I was filled with dread, because now it meant I actually had to take some action.

Bring it, I said, taking a deep breath. Let the brutality of July begin.  

(Click for Part 4 of 6:  http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-4-of-6-part-series.html)  

The Game Changer: Part 2 of a 6 part series

 

“Amityville Horror”

(if you've just joined us,  here's part 1 to start you off)... http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-1-of-6-part-series.html

The first step was to look at all the unfinished projects and repairs, and figure out where to start. Like the loose granite tile at the edge of our kitchen counter, being wedged in place with packaging tape.  We have 100 things like that, unfinished or stuck together with gum, just to get us through the Era Of Little Kids, even though we are now in the Era Of The Bigger Kids.

Then, we also had to simultaneously declutter.  Now, I like my stuff and it all has a home.  But I have too much still.  I declutter often and have been using the test of:

#1) Do I like it? 

#2) Do I use it?

If something passed both tests, it lives here.  I thought I had been doing a pretty good job.  But I found when I applied the third criteria of:

#3) But would I MOVE it to the new house?

Suddenly, not everything passed the test. And as my friend mentioned, when you throw in the last, little known criteria of:

#4) Would I want my kids to deal with this if I died?  or worse yet, DISCOVER IT?

-----Well, watch the pile of keepers deflate like a weak soufflé.  

So we made a plan to declutter and fix a little bit every day, a few things here and there, while still having our frolicking summer like fluffy lambs scampering in the field.

We informed our house we were going to mess with it and as if by saying it out loud, a war started.  Thus entered Turmoil, Pain, and Downward Spiral; the likes of which I have never seen before.

The first thing that unraveled, was our clothes dryer.  It was a little slow, limping along but still working.  We were in good spirits and so when my husband would throw the towels in, I’d say,

“How long did you set the timer for?”

and he’d say,

“I set it to ‘Wednesday.’ ”

This was funny, because it was only Saturday.  Four days to dry towels!  Freaking hilarious.  We were at the top of our game, summer was running smoothly, and hey, a dryer problem is easy.  Laundromats or a clothesline…we had our options.  We rolled our eyes and laughed like game show hosts at the pretend trauma, all the while knowing how blessed we were to have a life where our biggest complaint was about a dryer.  We were fresh horses and I was in a good mood because I was going to get my dream house soon.

But 24 hours later, the dam broke. Within a ten day period, the following things malfunctioned or died in unexplainable and mysterious ways:

• Flies, Amityville Horror Swarms of them, suddenly appeared in our garage, drunken and lazy, hanging out on the lights.  I’d kill twenty who didn’t even try to save their lives.  Then another battalion would enter from the portal of Hell somewhere beneath my dryer.
• Our airline tickets were rearranged by the airlines, with all the wrong times.
• The microwave, calculator, my cell phone and the house phone all stopped working and then mysteriously worked again.
• My plum bread (5 stars on Epicurous.com!!) flipped me off and went concave on me in the oven, like a woman’s breasts in her 80’s. 
• Our one credit card account closed out of the blue.  For no real reason.  The branch manager still doesn’t know why.
• My blog password stopped working.
• Our lawn mower had a coronary.
• But not before vomiting all its gasoline onto the concrete of our new patio. 
• Vacation pictures were corrupted after uploading perfectly.
• Our Subaru broke twice…during its three weeks IN the repair shop.
• My camera stopped uploading to the computer,
• Then the battery died and the charger had gum all over it.
• Raccoons decided to live in our trash cans on Mondays and Wednesdays at midnight.  And all the other nights.
• Our other email address stopped working.
• The coffee maker I won on eBay was suddenly recalled, despite hours of research saying it’s the rock star of coffee makers.  I don’t ask for much…I only wanted a better coffee maker for brewing Thunderbolt Turbo-Roast.  So I could work harder than I already do, says she, sarcastically.

Let’s just say if you drew a Feng Shui bagua over our house, we would be located at the left corner of the Doomsday Triangle.

But, as always, we turn to Lily Tomlin for encouragement:  “Things will get a lot worse before they get worse.”

And they did!

• A rash suddenly appeared on the back of both my legs.  Badly, like werewolf welts or tunneling beetles.
• Our last remaining email crashed….HARD.
• The wiring shorted out in our garage, and we had to hire an emergency electrician to rewire it immediately, or else we’d burn in our beds.
• Our mandated internet upgrade caused it to be down for 80 hours.  I’d like to give a shout out to AT&T for that one.
• Our ‘low tire’ light came on in my van, showing the driver side tire was low on air.  Trust me, this is NOT the news a woman wants to hear in the middle of her weight loss journey.
• Our cat bit me.  Her rabies booster was a few months overdue, so she and I had to be quarantined at the Big House for five days.  I’m just kidding about me, although seclusion in a rabies unit may have given me some well needed “Me” time.

In the midst of this crisis, I threw a birthday party for my eight-year-old.  Because we are involved parents just like the evil experts tell us we need to be, we have many baskets and piles of all the volunteer tasks and home projects and activities we have taken on.  So, on Party Friday, we spent Black Thursday removing evidence of having a life.  We moved baskets and piles and containers from everywhere in our house, and stacked them on our bed, so as to free up social areas in the other rooms.  On that day, our house felt especially cramped. My elbows hit everything as I went back and forth.  My pant loop caught on drawer handles and I started hating, despising, wishing my own home dead. 

To add to the downward spiral, we had several family visits and a few social encounters during that time. Suddenly it hit me squarely between the eyes….all these people are keeping in touch with each other; their photos show strong and deep relationships, but I am on the fringe, because I am so busy.  Busy doing what?  Normal stuff, busy with the lives of my family but with the added nonsense of retracing steps, moving and re-moving project piles, holding onto the old way of doing things, not evolving…I see how it has taken its toll.  It has affected the time I spend with those I love.  

In the meantime, Primrose Lane was still hovering in escrow and hadn’t fallen into my hands yet.  I still kept the dream alive.  

I know there is a fine line between faith and delusion.  My husband agreed, and said, “Yes, and you’ve crossed it. Quite nicely.”  He noticed as I seared my vision through the time/space continuum, through my bank account and then figuratively lifted my leg on the house, carved my initials in it and branded my name on its backside.  Maybe I just misunderstood the concept, but I call that Visualization.  If it’s called Hallucination or Stalking, then so be it.  It’s the only way I know how to claim a dream.

At last, every single thing in our house broke, except for my spirit and my heart.  I kept in mind that our family was healthy and we had a home and a job, blah blah blah, but after ten solid days of cataclysmic breakage and feeling generally screwed by the universe prank machine, I thought we had hit the worst.

Then I heard the news that escrow closed and I lost Primrose Lane for the fourth time. 

My spirit and heart, already living on a thin thread, finally broke.

And this is where I imploded, just like my house. This is where I hit the all-time lowest of low.  Normally I am good at keeping things in perspective, but not the case at that moment. 

I needed to find where glow sticks go when they are spent, and then throw myself on the big pile of snuffed out light.  

(click for Part 3 of 6: http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-3-of-6-part-series.html   ) 

The Game Changer: Part 1 of a 6 part series

“House of Mirrors”

The reason I haven’t written since July 10^th, is that I found myself on a detour for the last five weeks.  The interesting thing I have found about this weight loss year, is that my journey is already proving to be remarkable and not very typical.  And I thought I had gotten lost, REALLY LOST.  

But as in all ‘scenic routes,’ you haven’t really gone astray.  You eventually end up back on the road with more wisdom and clarity.  And you think, shit! That was bumpy and my kidneys hurt, but I saw some cool stuff like irate bears and a chainsaw shack where it is always 2 am.  That doesn’t even make sense but trust me, I’ve listed my symbolic fears.

So much has happened in the last five weeks, that I fear I must put it in a six part series so as not to frighten you all at once.  That way, you can read it like a little chapter book when you feel like a visit with me.  Are you ready for a crazy ride through Sheri’s Brain?

It was a dark and stormy night and it all started with a house…

CUT!!!!   Why write about a house in a weight loss blog?  You’ll soon see why I think they are absolutely related.

There’s this home in our town.  We met in 2009.  I was starting a new email account and had to make up a name.  I used Primrose Lane, because Wart Hollow was taken.  The very next night, I was stumbling upon a real estate site and saw a home for sale in our town on.....yes.......Primrose Lane.  (I am serious.  This really did happen.  The purest psychic moment I've ever had.) This house did not hit me lightly.  I felt like I had been set on fire when I saw it.  It made me break out in a sweat because it was so perfect.  We saw it in person and I almost wet myself because it was like someone had crawled in my head and built my heart out of wood and slate.  I could picture all my family and friend dreams happening in that house, how our life would be so improved by the memories this house could make.  The nurturing it could offer to my soul and to the souls of those I loved.   A place where I could churn butter and perhaps make a car from scratch.

I love my current home.  It is our first and only home, a small cottage where my babies were brought home.  I could not leave this home for any home in the world because my soul is rooted here and I am fully committed to it.  But that was before Primrose Lane, the house that could make me forget my vows. 

We made an offer and the gods laughed because we were so outclassed.  Plus there was no way in hell our house was in a condition to sell.  We needed six months’ notice and a hospital lift team just to fix all the little things we were used to living with, all the normal kid clutter, all the projects we had put on hold as parents do during the Era of Raising Little Ones.  Imagine us, cottage dwellers, thinking we could play in the big leagues. 

We got smacked aside by a high roller whose offer was accepted, and my husband and friends were deflated for me.  But NOT ME.  It wasn’t over.  I wasn’t giving up hope until I saw a U-Haul in front of that house.  For three months, I dreamed about that house and wouldn’t let go.  I captured the photos on my computer so I could have a small piece of it to soothe my greedy little heart. (Gawd…why didn’t I invent Pinterest?)….

Then, it fell out of escrow, up for grabs again like a jilted girlfriend on Match.com.  And you all thought I was crazy. 

We offered again, but were smacked aside even harder.   

Escrow slammed shut.

U-Haul appeared. 

Heart broke.  

I had a pity party but reluctantly took the lesson:  Maybe Primrose Lane showed up to teach me about contentment and making happiness where you were.  On the ugly days, my inner voice heard the lesson: Don’t dare to dream.  You didn’t deserve THAT house.   Aim lower next time.

That voice sucked.

But I wrote a love letter to the owners, telling them ‘I was happy for them.  If they ever decided to move because of (I threw in the good karma of: a promotion or winning the lottery, and kept out the word foreclosure), please give me a call and see if we are still interested.’

As if!  As if I’d lose interest!!!!! 

Sometimes I’d drive by with a friend or my mom (once a year does not define me as a creeper) and I’d say "That’s the house that will be mine someday, but someone has it right now.”  How very adult and magnaminous, magmanimos, magn&^%$u,   big of me.

And then, last year, the phone call came.  The owner was ready to sell and just happened to have my sweet little love letter, and would I be interested in buying?  Oh, if only this was a bike sale on Craig’s list.  The deal would have been completed in two hours.  My heart stopped.  Even my house spiders paused in mid-kill.  I looked around at my home which usually has its mental breakdown around June of each year (again, still in the Era of Kids), and thought DAMN!!!!  We’re less ready than last time.  But before we could even pull the trigger, the owner whom I liked very much, called back to say never mind because it wasn’t a good time to sell.  I was now salivating at the raw steak that had just been pulled out of my pit bull jaws, but relieved I didn’t have to eat it yet. 

Then, six weeks ago, Primrose Lane struck. Again.  For the fourth time in three years.  What do YOU make of this?  

My dear friend sent me the link, announcing it was on the market again.  I raged with exasperation at that house as I said to it,  I’ve moved on, happily making the best my life, LOVING my life, and then you show up at my door like an old boyfriend, over and over, in a nice shirt and smelling like tobacco and honey, with LOTS of flowers just to get me all twitter-pated again.  Don’t expect me to jump each time you announce you’re on the market because there’s no way that I will----

What?  7:00?  I’ll be there.

I thought it was time to tell my husband that I was drinking the Kool-Aid again.  We did the math and by some voodoo fluke in the middle of the worst housing slump, THIS time, we could make it work. Barely.  There would be sacrifices.  I’d have to start taking in laundry, or ironing, or cows, and so it was up to me to decide how badly I wanted it. 

On our way to the Open House, I told my husband, “You know, this is stupid and a waste of everyone’s time.  Why are we even going?”  He said something like, “Because you need to play it through till the end.”  This is why I love him.  He joined my team even as we headed for the cliff.  He signed up and was going down in flames with me. 

As we crossed the threshold, we both looked at each other and it still felt really, really, really good.  Even better this time around.  I petted the granite counter in the kitchen. It was like visiting an old friend.  When we went upstairs to the master bedroom, I broke down and cried into his chest.  Not because of the room's beauty, but because of the five feet of clearance on each side of the bed, so my husband and I wouldn’t have to do our ‘sideways-walk-down-a-row-of-occupied-theater-seats’ anymore.  I could see beneath it and there was nothing but open space. They didn’t have my own shame of dealing with the constant underbed cave where shoes and paperclips and creepy dust trolls go to die.  I saw a potential buyer measuring the window and I said, “Hey, he’s measuring MY window.”  He may have looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, but my return gaze said, “No, seriously.  Get away from my window.”  

“My window”…I said it so matter-of-factly.  It never once occurred to me I might be delusional.

I walked every room, lingered in each nook and pictured where I would churn butter and knit sweaters from my kids’ baby hair.  I also left a little note when I was there, to tell the owner I was sorry to have missed her.  As my mom said, I left my scent all over that house, to frighten the other lions away.   

We made the offer, but so did three other people.  Apparently, someone loved it $70,000 more than us.   I tried to find $70,000 in the couch and only found popcorn there. 

But you see, this is where I shine.  I keep the Torch of Hope lit when others move on to the next village.  This only serves to amp me, to tinge the air with the smoke of competition.  It’s on, baby.  I’ve been down this road, but we are going to do it differently.  We are going to be ready to catch that house when it falls out of escrow. 

I vowed that each of our thoughts and behavior had to look, act and SMELL like we were getting that house.  We were going to get our house ready to sell by doing everything to it to make it absolutely clean, decluttered, repaired and well-staged, so as to leave no doubt to the universe what my wishes were.  This thing will end with me knowing I’ve done everything I can.  Each of our actions had to tip the universe in our favor as we campaigned our guts out. 

As an afterthought, I also threw in the prayer of ‘Give me what I need and not what I want.’ Apparently, it carried more weight than I realized, as I was about to find out later.

There were so many hurdles to cross, but I took them one at a time because I hadn’t been disqualified from the race.  My friends were pulling for me and told me to ‘Just Ask The Universe For The House.’   

Just ask? 

So, I littered the universe with my wish, and started to get our house ready to put on the market.

(Click here for Part 2 of 6:)  http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-game-changer-part-2-of-6-part-series.html