The last time I lived in a house that was for sale was more than 15 years ago ... the house we bought when we first moved to Kansas City. Looking back, I wonder how in the world I ever managed to keep that huge house in show-ready condition with three teenagers and two dogs living there with me. It's just Ollie and me in my much smaller little house now, and it's a challenge to keep everything looking as perfect as possible every single day. There are so many things I didn't have to worry about before the for sale sign went up in my yard. Things like remembering not to leave the bra I wear when I exercise hanging on my closet door handle like I often do under normal conditions ... normal as in my house not being for sale. Even though "no bras on closet doors" wasn't on the list my realtor sent me of things I should or shouldn't do each morning before I leave the house, I'm pretty sure that leaving any type of undergarment on display would be frowned upon. Yep, it's a whole different ball game when that for sale sign goes up in the front yard ... a whole different way of living and a whole different set of standards.
I've learned a lot over the last few weeks as I've worked to get my house ready to sell, not the least of which is that every single task on my list of things to clean or repair takes way more time to accomplish than I think it will. For example, yesterday I spent 5 hours power washing my Goldilocks deck ... which, by the way, looks freaking awesome now. I thought re-staining the wood trim and doors inside the house would take me half a day, but instead it took 17 hours. My estimate for washing the interior walls to get rid of all the scuff marks, kid handprints and dog pawprints? Five hours tops. Amount of time it actually took? Thirteen and a half hours. Again I say, every single task on my list of things to clean or repair takes way more time to accomplish than I think it will.
Something else I've learned in this process that ranks way up there on the most important life lessons list is this ... living alone and rarely having anyone visit me has caused me to have on blinders when it comes to certain things around my house. Things like scuff marks on the walls or dings in the paint or dusty light fixtures or a deck desperately in need of a good cleaning that really didn't matter all that much to me a couple of weeks ago have now declared their importance in a big, big way. All of a sudden things like broken handles on my kitchen cabinets ... handles that have been broken for years, I might add ... screamed "Fix me!" every time I opened a door to grab a plate or tugged on a drawer to get a spoon. In the blink of an eye, I couldn't ignore those things that needed to be cleaned or repaired any longer ... I had to take action.
This morning my son Brad sent me a link to a video titled "The Future," which features a spoken poetry competition performance by a young man named Neil Hilborn. If you haven't heard of him, you should go to YouTube and pull up some of his videos and watch them. Neil lives each and every day of his life with OCD and bipolar disorder, and he's truly inspiring and giving hope to millions of people through both his poetry and his spirit. It was late this afternoon before I finally took a break and clicked on the link Brad sent, and though I fully intended to watch only that particular video, I found myself a half-hour later clicking on the Ted Talk of a young woman who was sharing about her struggle with depression and anxiety.
I'm happy to tell you that one of my errands this morning was to buy handles to replace the broken ones on my kitchen cabinets, and I still had that task ahead of me. Knowing myself well enough to know that I could easily end up spending way more time than I had to spend sitting on the couch watching Ted Talks, I placed my laptop on the table, turned up the volume and headed to the kitchen to get to work on replacing cabinet and drawer handles. I thought for sure it wouldn't take longer than a half-hour to replace the handles, which was about the length of the gal's Ted Talk. Three hours and several Ted Talks later, I had successfully switched out 32 cabinet and drawer handles ... don't even say it ... and they look great even if I do say so myself.
Because I had watched the video Brad sent and subsequently listened to the one I had bunny-hopped to afterward, and because I was busy changing handles, YouTube automatically played other Ted Talks about depression and/or anxiety. From everyday people explaining how depression has affected them personally to doctors discussing treatment options and recent breakthroughs, there was one common thread they all shared ... depression sucks. While I just listened to most of the videos as I worked and didn't actually view them, the words of one gentleman struck me deeply enough to make me put down my screwdriver, sit down at the table and watch the guy's presentation in full. Tears streamed down my cheeks as he talked about how all the people in his life begged him not to go public with the news of his battle with major depressive disorder, warning him that because he's a well-known public figure, he would be shunned and rejected and that he would forever have to deal with the judgment that would ensue. He recounted one particular conversation with his best friend who pleaded with him repeatedly not to share his story, saying, "I'm imploring you not to do this, John. You don't get it, man, everyone in the world will be listening ... please don't do this."
I can think of no greater way to close tonight's post than with John's reply to his friend's plea for him to keep silent about his struggle with an illness ... yes, an illness ... that carries with it a stigma that is often harder to bear than the illness itself. Read John's words over and over, friends, and then read them over and over and over again. And as you do, think long and hard about this ... vulnerability is not born out of weakness, friends, but rather out of strength.
"Let them listen. Let them listen and let them learn."
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