It looks like we will not get the house that we wanted. After almost a year of back and forth with various banks, we finally got our credit approved and were ready to purchase “our” home. But it turns out the owners of the house live in Greece and no longer want to bother selling the home. There is a slight chance that they might change their mind, but I seriously doubt it.
So, a year later, it seems like we are back to square one. Well, square one with a baby on the way. We’ll have to start the search for another house and probably have to redo all of our credit checks again, because the current credit is specifically connected to the house we were interested in.
But this setback has me thinking… dissecting, really, whether or not I even want a house at this point. Honestly, I am terrified by the idea of owning a home. Maintaining a home. I am not very good at maintaining things in general.
I am also terrified by the idea of settling in one place. What if we don’t like living in the village? It is hard to sell village homes. And if we get something in the city, then I have to prepare for another 10 years of being afraid that my child will be hit by a car and staying in the house too much and not having a garden.
Part of me is even wondering if I want to stay in Gabrovo. I sometimes long to be closer to my mother-in-law, so Peatuk can see her for shorter periods more often as opposed to disrupting our lives and hers for a long visit once a month. I still don’t particularly like Varna, but I wonder if Gabrovo was (is) the right decision for my family. For my sanity, really. Moving to Gabrovo was critical to my mental health when I was feeling trapped and desperate in Varna, but what if that feeling of being trapped is really going to chase me wherever I go? What if it really had nothing to do with Varna and everything to do with who I am and my innate fears?
When I found this house, I was simply excited that Nikola agreed to it. It was so difficult to get him excited about anything and I thought that this was my only chance to actually get a house. I also like the idea of living in a village with friends who are like us- a type of family that is somewhat difficult to find in Bulgaria. But in all honesty, the house had some major drawbacks.
The house we wanted will need to be completely remodeled before we move in. While that is what we wanted- in order to put our own style into our home- it prevents us from living in it until we get at least a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom up and running. Additionally, the home was far away from the town- 13 km, with a hill for the last three km whichever direction we are going. This would make riding a bike difficult for me, and even though we hoped it would inspire us to get fit, part of me feared that we would just rely on our car too much- especially with a newborn who cannot be strapped to a bike yet. It also doesn’t have high-speed internet options, which could make it difficult for both me and Nikola to work from home- which is something we might need to do more often if we are living far away from the office.
Here’s the thing. Part of me was almost… relieved… when I got the news that the owners were no longer selling the home. Of course, a bigger part of me just wanted this ordeal of home-buying over. But I have to wonder why I felt that relief. Was it the house? Is it the wrong one for us? Or is it just that I am experiencing fear associated with a big commitment. Funny, though, I didn’t feel this way about marriage. I felt completely sure. Of course, I didn’t have a year to go back and forth over the merits of my choice. Maybe it is just taking too long— and time can turn anyone into a scared kitten. Maybe?