Old House Renovation as Metaphor

So.... there's a house.  It's not fancy.  But it's old, has character, and it's mine.  My task now that it IS mine, is to be a good steward of it, to make it reflect who I am in the world, and for it to be - at some point in time- appropriate for sale.  It turns out, though, that doing all that is hard.  And like everything else about my new life, it's reminding me of important things.

It all starts to feel like the rusting, chipping, fraying of my home is a symbol of my un-examined and vaguely terrifying inner life.







Every time (and that's ALL the time) a small problem crops up, it turns out that it's not small.  And even when things are going well, and I undertake some hare-brained home improvement scheme, it turns out that about 5 expensive, and un-fun, things must be done first.  Somehow installing a dishwasher involved getting a new ceiling.  Do not EVEN ask how that happened.  Fixing that old broken-down ceiling, though, allowed the beautiful thing underneath to be revealed.


What's inside/underneath will eventually reveal itself.  A hideous dropped ceiling in the front room hides a formerly-lovely but sadly in need of repair plaster ceiling.  Who thought that popcorn ceiling in the front bedroom was a good idea, and what disasters is it pretending to hide?  And the floor in the basement is uneven.  I just laugh and say that that's where I buried the ex-husband's body.  (As far as I know, his body is still alive and functioning somewhere on the planet.  I wouldn't REALLY do that.)  The point is,  these patch jobs have expiration dates, and I fear those dates are nearing.  Similarly, we all walk around all day every day revealing who we are, even when we are trying to hide it.  We can probably wait to deal with that hidden thing, but it's not going away until we do

Issues rarely heal themselves.  I hear a noise in the basement.  I don't go look because I'm afraid of what I might find.   Could there BE a more obvious metaphor?  What am I avoiding, in both the literal and metaphorical basements?  I'm afraid there are things I can't fix.  I am afraid I will need help, and heaven knows I don't do ask for or accept help well.  Maybe there's a fatal flaw in this place that I want to have as a sanctuary.  You get the idea.

The attic is full of things leftover from a life I no longer lead - or need.  Baby clothes, camping gear for a small group, suitcases from days gone by.  It's not quite Jane Eyre's crazy woman in the attic, inspiring fear and worry - but it's not far off, either. This stuff is literally -and metaphorically- hanging over my head.  I need to confront it.  I will feel clearer when I do.

So, I'm coming to the conclusion that life is all about infrastructure.  It does matter if the roof and the plumbing and the electrical systems are cared for and fully-functioning.  It does matter if the checkbook is balanced and the clothes are clean.  It does matter if I nurture and tend my emotional health.  It's all part of the same big picture.