Moving On: On the Market

My house has been on the market for about ten days now. When I prepared the house for photos a few weeks ago, I felt so satisfied and proud. I could see that it was at its best. Even as I tried to keep my expectations realistic, I was overflowing with optimism that someone would fall in love with it, quickly. It also pleased me to think about giving someone a great moving experience. All the major repairs are done, so the new owners will have nothing to dread or worry about. I’ve kept excellent records and can tell them exactly how to care for (and enjoy) the house and its quirks. I can even leave some things I’ll no longer need, if they want me to. They’ll be happy, and so will I.

The sign went up, the house started showing, and I was introduced to a little thing called feedback. So far, everyone who’s toured my house agrees that it is indeed very nice. A couple of them even liked the price. But they’ve all rejected it over small things that I can’t help – the road is too busy, or they need more space. I fully respect everyone’s right to choose important things based on whatever’s important to them, even if it seems insignificant to others. But it’s near-impossible not to take it personally. The worst is when someone gives a 5-out-of-5 rating, then states that they are Not At All Interested. Those situations leave me staring up at my ceiling at night. Wondering what I could have done differently, aware that the answer is nothing. Looking for a logical explanation that will enable me to check a box and move on, aware that it will never make sense.

That’s okay, I thought after the first weekend. This house is perfect for someone and will make them very happy. These people just couldn’t appreciate what it has to offer. They’re clearing the way for the right buyer, who is on the way. I also reminded myself that the weather has been awful, four showings the first weekend is great under any circumstances, and selling a house takes time. Still, I felt weirdly rejected and downcast. Pretty soon I realized why it all feels so familiar and painful. I’ve been going through this emotional cycle for years… about myself and my singleness. And at this point, it looks like the “right buyer” exists only in my own imagination, a fairy tale I tell myself to keep some sort of hope alive. I know my house will sell, even if I eventually have to compromise or drop the price to make it happen. But a little part of me already feels foolish for believing that everything would come up roses here when it hasn’t elsewhere.

I know God wanted me to see this correlation, and to be honest, it irritates me. Really, God? I haven’t dealt with this enough? You wanted me to experience it from a whole new angle? So I’m praying that He wants to show me a different, happier ending to the story. Otherwise, it just seems like rubbing it in.