Five years ago

It was December 21, 2018. The Friday before Christmas. My Christmas vacation started off pretty well, because I didn’t just make a purchase that Friday. No, I signed the papers for my very first house. There I was: in my most chic blazer, pretending that I had been to a notary before and understood how this worked. In reality, I felt like the young woman who suddenly became an adult and made adult choices. Three months of scouring interior design stores followed. I wanted a lot of color in my house and visited one home furnishing store after another, Marktplaats addresses and thrift store to collect, among other things, a yellow TV cabinet, blue couch and pink chair.

Then the moment arrived: March 4, 2019. I joined the same notary. This time without a fancy jacket, but as myself in a pink polka dot dress. And I accepted the key from the previous owner. I beamed with pride that entire day, showed my parents and grandma around the house and proudly looked at all the nice places that I would soon have all to myself.

During my house hunt I often wondered if it wouldn’t be lonely, buying and decorating a house on your own. But from the moment I walked into this house, it felt right. It was as if it was meant to be that I did this alone and could make my house as pink as I wanted. Without comment. As if I was still allowed to grow on my own two feet before I would share a house with someone else. With every inch that I (especially together with my father) worked on and painted this house, it felt more like the nice, colorful home I had always had in mind.

From insecure boy to independent man

I grew up in this house. I became independent. I built my own life. I got to know myself. I took steps that I always thought I would never dare to take. That is exactly why I have been in an emotional mood for two weeks to leave this place behind me for good. It is not the house. It is not these four walls. But it is all the memories and developments that have taken place between the four walls.

I feel like I only really started living around the age of 22/23. Before that, my life was dominated by anorexia. Eating little, exercising excessively, having zero energy and then fighting the voices in my head and giving everything (with pain and effort) to get the number on the scale back up to a healthier number. I had hardly ever cooked in my life. I had never really gone through puberty. And because of what I had been through, I was quite insecure, anxious and unfamiliar. When I moved here, I was 25. Already much more independent and genuinely happy. Having a place of my own felt like a huge step forward after that difficult period, which I, as an 18-year-old, never thought would be in the offing for me.

In this house I really grew up. I learned to stand on my own two feet and discovered that cooking can be really fun. I once started heating up frozen vegetables to serve them without herbs with boiled potatoes. In the meantime I have even  considered making  recipes a permanent blog item, because I have found a new love in cooking.

I started developing new routines, discovering better what suits me and what doesn’t, getting to know a lot of new people in the neighborhood and, above all, feeling much more powerful than I had ever felt before.

Many young people move out of their home during their studies. They learn to take care of themselves there, fly the nest, go on new adventures and discover sides of themselves that they didn’t know yet. For me, this house felt like the place where I caught up on all those things after my anorexia period. Not that I was at parties every week. But I did step outside my comfort zone 90,273 times, learned who I am when I’m alone and from there I was able to open up more and be more myself.

Milestone after milestone

This house is also the place where I experienced many milestones. It started of course with doing DIY for the first time ( hey, I had never touched a paint roller !), living alone for the first time and making not too fancy dinners for the first time. Then I adopted (after only two weeks of living here) a cat : Pippa. And I quickly noticed how special it is when there is always a little animal waiting for you when you come home, even if you only brought a garbage bag downstairs. She made sure that I never really felt alone from the beginning.

When I first moved here, I decided to give online dating another chance. Through Match.com, I met a rather nice girl: Bartina. I still remember proudly showing her my house on our third date. When she approved of my use of color in the house, Bart also passed my inspection. We started to like each other more, officially started dating on the stairs at the AMC and then spent many weekends together in my house . Slowly but surely, Bart brought more stuff to this house every week until, after two years, she decided “Let’s live together full-time!”.

I also experienced a bore-out in my house when I was not in the right place in terms of work. It was this house where I decided to work for myself full-time. And it was also this place where I sometimes came home dejected during that bore-out period. Where I shed tears when Bart’s mother died at far too young an age, and where I cried for my dear grandpa and grandma who died two days apart. It was this place where I came home every day, and where I also spent a lot of time since corona time. First forced by corona, later of my own free will as a happy self-employed person working from home.

The first cracks

But okay, there were also cracks in our bond, dear home. When Bart moved in, we discovered that two home workers with only one office is not always ideal. If I have a work call, Bart can’t turn on his roaring coffee maker at the same time. Our pantry was overflowing and we regularly lacked space for clothes or other stuff, no matter how enthusiastically I tried to minimize every time. Bart was annoyed by the airplanes and was looking for a place with less noise from them. I was mainly looking for a house with three floors, a private office and never having to take into account downstairs neighbors who might be bothered by you making smoothies at 8 in the morning.

I sometimes got annoyed by our small hallway, where shoes were always lying around. By Bart’s study that had become one big closet space because we had to store closets somewhere. And by always having to climb four flights of stairs with heavy weekly shopping bags. After denying for a long time that I wanted to leave here, that desire finally came.

In love with another house

And then we fell madly in love with someone else. Another house. I’m sorry, nice apartment. We saw this beautiful townhouse in Houston, decided that we didn’t mind all the renovation work and put all our money into a new place. We fantasized about new furniture. About large kitchens, more spacious sitting areas, our own work rooms, a real garden, more storage space and a larger hall where you don’t immediately encounter hordes of shoes upon entering. We signed it and even put you up for sale. There you were, radiantly, on Funda. With all your beautiful sides. With a loving text and with all your positive points extra emphasized. I could almost fall in love again.

Luckily, a new buyer fell in love with you just as much as I did back then. We decided to give you a new owner. Someone who is overjoyed with you and who hopefully will have as many memories and growth in this house as I did back then.

The last memories

In the past few months, in between doing odd jobs in the new house, I tried to soak up as much of you as possible. I shot my camera full of photos, made videos and captured corners before they were gone. I realized extra well that certain walks I take now will soon no longer be my daily round. And I also came up with a few mementos of you. For example, we are currently having a painting made that symbolizes the past few years. About becoming free, growing, building your own life and discovering yourself. In this way, a piece of you will still have a place in the new house.

I am also thinking about having a drawing made of the house or creating a photo book of it. Or maybe making a sketch that reminds me of how much fun I had with you. For example, at Monsieur T-shirt you can order all kinds of fun personalized items (not just T-shirts) with a drawing of yourself, your family, your pet or possibly your house. Maybe nice as a birthday present for me in May! Or just to give myself a present earlier.

Bye house, I’m gonna miss you

And so I counted down the past few days until the moving van is at the door. With each passing day your beautiful house became emptier. The things that were on display or stored in this lovely house all that time, were given a place in boxes.

On one hand I couldn’t wait for the days to pass and for us to call our new house a “home”. On the other hand it felt bittersweet that our farewell was getting closer every day.

So I sat here the last few days. By the Christmas tree that brought a little extra coziness to an increasingly empty house. In my mind I traveled through time every day, to when I had just moved here.

I could see myself going through the house with a paintbrush to paint the workrooms yellow and the living rooms blue. How I would sometimes come home with a radiant smile. And how I would sometimes lie here crying on the couch, because of grief, sadness, bad days or just hormonal moods or sleepless nights. How I was in love here, bouncing with joy, crying tears from my eyes, working many hours at the dining table, mourning times gone by, looking forward to new things, cooking hundreds of meals, celebrating four birthdays and finally lighting a candle with a few words: “Thank you, house! Thank you for the past almost 5 years!” . I will miss you, but I will also embark on new beautiful adventures with Bart and Pippa in a very beautiful new home with great courage.

Have you ever moved? How did you feel about saying goodbye to your home?