Come to Jesus, I am not my possessions

Come to Jesus, I am not my possessions
This is a big CTJ, one that I stubbornly (thank you, German ancestors) and hot-headedly (thank you Black Irish, Basque, and Mohawk ancestors) have resisted and been in some sort of denial about for many years. No wonder it was like passing a pumpkin when it finally came about.
My name is S________, and I have been in a codependent relationship with my house for 10 years now. I realize now that I do not have the power, nor the obligation, to save this house, and that continuing to live in denial in this relationship is unhealthy for both of us. I do not have the funds to fix the foundation, or do the many other repairs that need doing, even if we had a willing/able neighbor to split the cost. I do not and will not have the funds to float said non-willing, non-able neighbor his half of the costs of the repairs. I will not, most likely, win Lotto just in time to save the house and save ourselves (supposedly). I am not and will never be willing to sacrifice every other goal in my life just to save this house. I will no longer contort my life around this 104 year old, 3 story, altered Denver Square, crumbling stucco, house. I have no duty to be the one who saves it from crack-heads, shady real estate investors, bad tenants, and irresponsible-beyond-belief trust-funder dope-heads who choose to spend their money on drugs rather than take care of the house.
A home is supposed to shelter and comfort you, not cause you endless stress and anxiety and borderline homicidal fantasies. (ok, not borderline. They were epic-ly homicidal.) It did shelter us, splendidly, for a few years total. But any relationship should be a give and take, with the balance on the positive side.
Sorry Detroit Street, but this relationship has been toxic for more than half of it.
Sure, when we met and fell in love, things were great. It was our first place together. Our first place that we OWNED. We had legendary parties there. (before the child came along) We stored a lot of crap there for free, ours and that of friends in transit. We took in at least 4 stray cats and 2 stray dogs. Our beautiful daughter was conceived there, and it was her first home until she was 2 years old. She still remembers it fondly though. We have some fantastic memories there, and some pretty awful ones. Which I will not reiterate, because I am trying to forgive everything about it.
Recently we put the house back on the market, and it is most likely going to be a short sale. A week before, I had my friend James come over and do some energetic clearing of the place, and of me (his idea) because as it turns out- um, yeah. It was like 75% my energy that was keeping things stuck, or at an impasse, with the house. The neighbor’s half is going on the foreclosure auction block in a few weeks, but he is still squatting there. James very neutrally explained, “because he’s still here, I’ll have to come back every 10 days or so and re-clear the house.” That’s one hell of a diplomatic way to put it. He also explained forgiveness in a new, totally refreshing way that resonates with me. As he put it, imagine forgiveness as "allowing someone, or something, safe passage THROUGH your place of judgment.” (My emphasis on THROUGH).
Your place of judgment, aka the Ego, aka Lizard-brain, sees things in black and white and is really just trying to protect you from all danger. If something has hurt you once, best not ever go near that thing again. But things frequently get stuck there because of all the hurt, anger, rage and pain that they’ve caused. Your lizard brain just can’t let go of them. And if you can’t let go of something…. Well, things are probably going to stay stuck. So this is how I assuaged my lizard-brain about the house/neighbor situation:
Me and my heart of Loving Kindness: Dear one, if we do not allow this individual and this whole experience to safely pass through our place of judgment, then he will STAY – for who knows how long. And we don’t want that, now do we, dear one?
Lizard brain: Rrrrrrrrrr.
MMHLK: Do you see?
Lizard brain: RRRRRRrrrevenge!!!
MMHLK: No, no, honey. Believe me. Remember what’s happened to all the people who’ve fucked you over in the past? All the sexually-harassing bosses? All the corrupt workplaces? All the stalkers and bad boyfriends? Hmmm?
Lizard Brain: rrrrreeellllll…… they did get what was coming to them. Without us having to do the work. But that was so--- unsatisfying. I didn’t get to punch anyone.
MMHLK: I know, I know. But that’s what those churchy people mean when they refer to the Seven Deadly Sins- God simply says, “Vengeance is mine.” As in, don’t you worry your pretty little heads about it, or pollute your hearts with it. I will smack down, smite, and otherwise seriously fuck with anyone who breaks my laws. What goes around comes around. Have faith. The Universe always comes through, doesn’t it?
Lizard Brain: Yes but- Can’t I just hit like, one person?
MMHLK: When the time really comes for that, I will let you off-leash.
Lizard Brain: Promise?
MMHLK: Promise.

He made me pinky-swear actually. My lizard-brain is a five-year-old boy. I need to treat him as such. So that’s that. It’s no coincidence, I think, that for the first 8 weeks of this year I was helping to clean out, clear out, clean, clear, and otherwise evacuate my parents’ old house in Parker after my brother got them moved to Arizona.
I haven’t spoken to them in 10 years. (see other blogs for more on that) The deal was, my brother would do the front end, and as soon as they were at least 1,000 miles away from me, I could clean up the mess. Besides, I’m a professional cleaner now, so I could approach this with some professional detachment, like any other job. But still, it was a helluva lot more work than I anticipated. At any rate, it’s done. It’s not only on the market, it’s under contract, and we’re just waiting for the banks’ approval. (another short-sale).
And yes, to answer your question, it was very healing for me. Very healing to THROW OUT all the junk that they’d stored, squirreled away and sequestered for decades, rather than make their living relationships a priority. My parents valued their stuff more than their children, and the thing is, their stuff is absolute junk. I am not kidding. There were waste baskets in there dating to 1968, and coated with grime I remember putting on there in my childhood. No exaggeration.
We put all my mom’s old artwork and supplies on the front porch, and on the FREE part of Craig’s list- and it was decimated within a day. Decimated. The nice neighbors very nicely helped clean up the debitage and threw it in trash bins. A truck-load of stuff went to the VVA. I took everything of value in a moving van back to our place. Sold some of it, gave a lot away, put a lot in storage in the garage or basement. Much is going to HazMat disposal.
The whole experience made me pity them more than hate them or fear them. From what I know, pity is just to the right of hatred. It's the same way I feel about Republicans now. So they too, are being allowed safe passage through my place of judgment, at last. It helps that they are 1,000 miles away and otherwise physically, mentally and spiritually completely unable to show up on my front porch someday and somehow force me, at emotional gunpoint, to take responsibility for all their mistakes and failures. I needed to see and feel just how incapable of that they really are though. I'm kinesthetic. That's how I roll.

And now I can roll along much more easily, because I am not my possessions. I am not my parents. All I am is free. And grateful.