Recovering

It’s been a crazy, difficult, wonderful and unbelievable year. On so many levels, change has happened whether I want it to or not. I’ve done my best to find my way in, around and through it all while still finding ways to create anyway. 

But sometimes, I’m forced to stop. My body had been showing me I needed rest, but I ignored it. There was just so much to do: hundreds of boxes to unpack, new rooms to redecorate and reorganize, cleaning, weeding, trimming and planting. Oh my. 

Too much stress leads to mess. 

Yup, my body was a mess. I have a chronic condition that is stress related and most of the time now, I can keep it under control. I had a harder time when my children were little understanding it and working with it but I’ve learned a lot over the years. 

I know when it’s usually going to crop up. I’m prepared with tools to help. But the biggest help is seeing it, accepting it and letting it run its course. Then it goes away in a week or two and all is well. This time around, I ignored all the signs. I pushed myself harder which created more stress and by the time I decided to listen, my usual tools weren’t enough. Finally, I went to the doctor. After suffering for months, I got a prescription and better tools which helped in a matter of days. 

Creative recovery. 

I don’t like to sit around but the window seat in the front room has a beautiful view. I can see the sky and clouds move, trees far and near, little hints of distant hills. So for a week or so, I sat. Watched the clouds move. Enjoyed the colors of the sky and distant trees. And listened to the crows talking. 

I planted flowers on my patio. Hung colored baskets of petunias. And even planted my garden which I’d thought would not get done in time, this year. I hung some art on the walls of my recovered home. In between it all, I did manage to get a few days in the studio. 

And finally, I had a weekend that felt normal, comfortable and, maybe, safe again. 

I can see faces in the clouds and trees and leaves again. 

And I look around and breathe and see, I’m home again.  

February Love Story #4 - Heart and Home

About 30 years ago, I took on a big scale creative project: designing and overseeing the building of a new home. With a growing family, we needed not just more room, but rooms that were open allowing for a better flow of family life. 

We toured many new homes for sale but none of them really felt right. After much thought, we decided we needed to build our own home. We found a plan close to what we wanted and I set about redesigning it. I’d worked in an architect’s office during college where one of my many tasks was making blueprints. This experience taught me how to read plans, how to change plans and how the basic building process worked. 

The biggest requirement: an open floor plan. We wanted the main floor to flow from kitchen to dining to living rooms. We wanted a ‘homework’ and home business desk area. And I wanted a room where I could expand my creative side whether that was drawing, writing or painting. 

Difficult and delightful. 

I enjoyed the creative side of re-designing the plans. Moving a doorway here. Pushing out for window seats in all three bedrooms. Turning the kitchen island around to allow for a downdraft cooktop, stealing space from the downstairs bath for a bigger pantry and reversing the washer/dryer area to give me a laundry room window and sink. 

Staying on budget with surface selections was sometimes difficult. But we did it. Finding colorful countertops, tile for the island and backsplash, carpet, vinyl and wood flooring. Best of all, beautiful custom red oak cabinetry, yes that was extra but worth every penny. 

Many years of love.

My son was 6 and my daughter was 9 when we moved in. With the open floor plan, we’ve been able to be flow and grow with them. Lots of birthday parties, sleepovers, family dinners, holidays, bridal showers have been celebrated here. 

My husband and I have marked many anniversaries and weathered many life changes under this cozy vaulted roof. Jobs. School graduations. Open studio events. Covid. Sheltering our children during life changes. Working from home. 

Now our children’s children play with trains, dolls, puzzles, crayons and paint here too. Our home has moved, changed and embraced it all. 

And now: tears and fear. 

In July, we woke up to a flood in our kitchen caused by a newly installed plumbing valve failure. As usual, we took care of our home: mopping up water, calling the plumbing company and insurance company. 

We had mold. Then we had flooring, countertops and sink torn out. We washed dishes in the laundry room sink(who knew how much I’d need that sink when we built the house). We tripped on 3 layers of uneven flooring. I learned to balance between it all to load and unload the washer and dryer, cook and yes, clean my home. 

Nine months have passed. I’ve lost so much sleep. Crying over the losses. Fearing more damage every time I hear the sounds of water. Angry at how much I have to fight the insurance company over everything needed to try to get my home back to being a home again. 

Estimator after estimator has come to measure and assess the damage. Totals sent to the insurance company are rejected time and time again. We get more experts to explain the situation to the insurance company. Weeks and months go by with rejections or no response at all from the insurance company adjuster. Who, by the way, has never actually come here to see the damage or what a beautiful home we had. 

It’s hard enough to see the heart of my home destroyed by a plumbing company/valve failure. But to be told by a distant insurance adjuster, your flooring which you loved, will have to all be ripped out and replaced, then to not be given enough money to get it done right? 

It’s the heart of my home. 

It’s a labor of love.

It’s no wonder I can’t sleep.