When I first bought my home, I realized that I had invested myself into a home that clearly needed to be fixed. I knew this at the time but the reality set in hard the day that I was handed my keys. The place was practically gutted by looters and squatters, leaving me with an empty shell that needed love. When I first saw it I realized that I had seen not just an empty, rotting shell of a home but what I saw was the potential of space. Everything from a custom kitchen to a design that I desired could happen.
What I didn’t expect that I would have to go through is the stress and anxiety of having property which was merely sitting there, collecting taxes that I would soon owe year after year. I had bought the home to work on it by myself. I had bought the home so I could craft something with my own two hands so that I might be able to truly call it my own. This was a lofty goal that I had set for myself, I know, but it was one that I forced myself to undertake to prove something to myself.
I don’t know what I sought. There was just a drive to create something that could be mine. I wanted a product that was truly going to be my own. After years of renting and living for other people, I wanted freedom. I wanted to be able to show this home to friends and family so they could recognize that I had finally thrown off the shackles that I had allowed to bind me. No longer would I live or work for others – this was mine and mine alone. I still work on it but I am so close to being finished.