Saying farewell to Casa Speedy

Generally speaking, a house (or condo) is always more than just a roof above your head. It speaks to your lifestyle choices, your future plans and your personal style. Really, it’s an extension of you, and the life you want – as well as the one you want to showcase to friends and acquaintances.

But sometimes, when you step back and take a look at that home, you realize that it’s all wrong. That you’ve somehow ended up on a path towards backyards and nurseries and hour-long commutes when really all you want is a small space where you can actually keep up with the maintenance and cleaning.

And then, on a deeper level, you realize that nothing about it really reflects you at all.

A few months ago, this realization came crashing down around me. My marriage had crumbled and Casa Speedy reflected the life I thought I was supposed to have – the husband, the home office, the room for a nursery and space for a family to grow, plus a backyard where I was supposed to play gardener.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I loved that house. I loved the gleaming hardwood floors, the fun feminine damask wallpaper and the storage space. But I didn’t love what it represented. Nor the fact that I was miserable much of the time I was living there.

To some extent, the house had become yet another trap in a life where I was already feeling stuck on a path I wasn’t all that confident about. Sure, from the outside it looked like I had everything together – a lovely husband, a great job, a beautiful home – but my days were filled with begrudging obligations and a sense of dread.

So, in quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do – I am, after all, a planner who chose to become a journalist at age 7 – I moved out in April. I left the house that I’d poured money and creative energy into, and the life that I’d spent the past six and a half years carefully building. I had no plan.

First I stayed with friends, living out of suitcases. Tears, wine and chocolate were all on the regular menu, but slowly my new life started to take shape. I started exercising again, even signing up for a half marathon in the fall. I stopped having migraines for the first time in five years – a miracle unto itself, as those blasted things had created a further level of rules and restrictions on my life; like no caffeine after noon and always getting eight hours of sleep at night. I reconnected with friends. I started to rediscover things that I’d loved, like music and books. Suddenly, I had stories to tell when friends and family made their weekly calls. And I started smiling again.

Logistically, it was a nightmare. For a homebody like me to be separated from my routines, my carefully chosen baking supplies, my pet and my full wardrobe was a recipe for daily annoyances. Whether it was another morning of getting ready and finding only one strap for my preferred frock, or wishing I had a pair of shoes that were still back in my other life, there was a flood of frustrations that came along with my decision. Yet I never really wavered. Instead I pulled on another summer dress, a different pair of shoes, and went out and bought that new baking pan.

And, throughout the process, it killed me to not to write about all of this. After trying to pretend for so long that everything was OK, I wanted to shout the truth from the rooftops, along with words of reassurance that yes, in fact, I’m happy now. I wanted to explain why I wasn’t writing about my renovations and decorating projects. But I couldn’t. Because life is messy and emotions are complicated.

Now, four months later, we’ve decided to sell Casa Speedy and I’ve got my own space again. Newly moved in, there’s still a lot of work to do, but it’s my own little grey, white and purple haven. As for the story this one tells – it’s shiny, new and full of opportunities, much like my life these days. It’s tiny, but it’s all mine, and I can’t wait to share it with you – but that’s a post for another day.

Comments

[Heather Cook]

Good for you :) It takes guts to move on!

[Valeria]

Looks like you're headed in the right direction and being true to yourself. Change is sometimes a good thing, no matter how hard it can be at times, you learn and grow from it. I'm excited to see your new place come along - it should always be a reflection of who you are and where you want to be in life.

Working with a smaller space than you're used to can be challenging and exciting. Can't wait to see updates on the new place! We're always looking for some inspiration!

[Kristin]

What a moving post. It takes a lot of courage to walk away from the familiar, but when it's the right thing to do, the rewards pay off in spades. The half marathon is a great idea - the commitment and sense of accomplishment are therapeutic in the extreme!

[Michelle from Holley & Gill]

What a heartfelt post Jen, we can all relate in some way to your story and can sense the happiness you now feel after letting yourself be you. Thank you for sharing your story and I know you will be thriving in this new chapter.

[Robyn]

Bravo! First, for doing what you did. Second, for sharing it. I did the exact same thing over 20 years ago - so I know just how hard of a decision this was. You are the only one who can ensure your own happiness, so kudos to you for taking the steps you needed to find that happiness!

[ToolGirl]

Way to go, Jen. Let the adventure begin anew.
xo
Mag

[Brian]

This is a truly inspiring post. It's always challenging while blogging to share the details of your personal life, while staying on your topic. Wishing you the best of luck in building the next great place.

[Jennifer Wilson-Speedy]

Thank you for all of your kind words!

[NewHomeOwner]

Jen,

I have been following your blog for a while now and I just wanted to congratulate you on your new life! Life is too short to be unhappy!

Best of luck!

[DavidV]

After all the changes you've made recently, the half marathon will be a piece of cake!

[wanderluster]

Thanks for sharing your story Jen. Best of luck in the new space. I'll be reading along to see the transformation.

[Jen Selk]

I know exactly how you feel, Jen. I went though a similar thing recently, and while it was scary, it was also the best thing I could have done. Good luck!