![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cosmolinguistI said something on Facebook the other day about all the forms I had to fill in for the bank and the solicitor and someone commented "but at the end you'll have a house, so yay" which made me feel bad for whinging. I am so painfully aware, through this whole process, that I am bitching about something that my culture encourages and respects and values and that I'm lucky to have the money -- even if it is my in-laws' money -- to do.
But I don't really feel like I'm a house-buying kind of person, and I feel awkward and uncomfortable in this position... which is no doubt why I can't stop thinking or talking about it, while other people don't feel the need to go on about buying a house. My friends Kat and Lucy just bought a house and you hardly heard a peep out of them except when they were moving, and moving is a thing where everybody asks their friends for help even if they're just going from one bedsit to another so that's nothing particular to the experience of buying a fucking house.
Indeed Kat commented on my Facebook post too, saying "Moving in is a hassle. But its a lovely feeling when u own your place," and my brain exploded when I read that, because I can't even think about the actual process of moving, yet; I'm so far from the emotional tenacity required to put all our shit in boxes that I've created a big mental firewall around the subject. And no doubt some others too. Because I've got so many stressful, expensive and difficult things to do first and I can only contemplate so many at a time.
I know my friends mean well with comments like these -- they're just saying hang in there, it'll be worth it, etc. -- but I feel the same kind of pressure when I hear responses like this that I used to feel when people (who think this is a suitable topic for conversational small-talk!) would assume I have kids or at least that I want kids. (I'll never forget the person who replied to me saying I didn't have children with, "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure you'll change your husband's mind eventually.")
My mom tried similarly to be encouraging on the phone last night. After she asked where the house-buying process is getting up to and I attempted to answer without getting too vague or whiny (note: I cannot do this), she made a polite sound that went something like, "You'll be glad when it's done and you've got your house," but I think I ruined it by replying, "Well, it doesn't really matter if I will be glad or not, does it?" I tried to laugh but she could only say "No, I guess it doesn't," and move on to another subject.
I don't want to give the impression that I'm miserable about buying a house. But I can't really say I'm glad or excited or any of those positive emotions that society expects as just another part of the highly-regimented ritual of house-buying, either. (And honestly, even if I was miserable? That wouldn't matter either. I'd still be talking to estate agents and filling in forms and taking my fucking passport to the bank today (because I'm a foreign) and looking for somewhere I can photocopy bank statements for the solicitor.)
I'm not very good at giving the socially-expected reactions, anyway. As well as not wanting kids, I can honestly say that my wedding day was one of he worst days of my life. (I'm glad to be married! But everything about the wedding was so sad and frustrating and awkward and outside my comfort zone that I cringe to think of it, even eight years later.*) From that experience I learned that not feeling able to express my unhappiness, because there was such huge narrative pressure for me as the bride to be radiantly happy, was one of the things that made the whole experience so difficult for me. I think that kind of discomfort at defying society's general expectations is what I'm running up against here now too.
Andrew hates forms, which is why I was filling them all in. And I have the legible handwriting, but that's less a problem than the fact that just being in the room when I'm doing them, and with me asking him as little as possible, leaves him so tense the muscles in his back hurt for the whole day. The forms are a microcosm of the whole process: it doesn't matter whether you come to it eagerly or reluctantly, suddenly or deliberately, whole-heartedly or distractedly, ambitiously springing up the property ladder or warily dealing with the cognitive dissonance of a heretofore non-materialistic lifestyle. You will go through the same meat-grinder as the rest. You will write your National Insurance number here in this box.
I spend years cultivating a conviction that it was wrong to be taught that some ways of living life are good and some ways of living life are bad, that there's more to life than an impressive job title, that failure is okay and the unexpected directions life takes us in can be the best ones...and then you try to buy a house and it's all about those markers of success my parents were always after: Do you have good jobs? What the fuck is your credit like, anyway? Let's talk about insurance. Let's talk about the possibility of one of you dying in the next twenty-five years. Let's talk about the rest of your lives, right now, first thing on a Saturday morning when you're in your pajamas and don't feel very grown-up at all.
But then, never mind all that existential crap: just write your National Insurance number down, for the sixth time, in this box.
* One of the anniversary cards we got, from the aunt so wrong-headed as to send me Thanksgiving cards, had some dross in it about "remembering us as we were when we got married"; Jesus what a terrible idea that would be! When I got married I was raw with grief, in a dress I hated, watching my mom cry the whole day...cheers!
But I don't really feel like I'm a house-buying kind of person, and I feel awkward and uncomfortable in this position... which is no doubt why I can't stop thinking or talking about it, while other people don't feel the need to go on about buying a house. My friends Kat and Lucy just bought a house and you hardly heard a peep out of them except when they were moving, and moving is a thing where everybody asks their friends for help even if they're just going from one bedsit to another so that's nothing particular to the experience of buying a fucking house.
Indeed Kat commented on my Facebook post too, saying "Moving in is a hassle. But its a lovely feeling when u own your place," and my brain exploded when I read that, because I can't even think about the actual process of moving, yet; I'm so far from the emotional tenacity required to put all our shit in boxes that I've created a big mental firewall around the subject. And no doubt some others too. Because I've got so many stressful, expensive and difficult things to do first and I can only contemplate so many at a time.
I know my friends mean well with comments like these -- they're just saying hang in there, it'll be worth it, etc. -- but I feel the same kind of pressure when I hear responses like this that I used to feel when people (who think this is a suitable topic for conversational small-talk!) would assume I have kids or at least that I want kids. (I'll never forget the person who replied to me saying I didn't have children with, "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure you'll change your husband's mind eventually.")
My mom tried similarly to be encouraging on the phone last night. After she asked where the house-buying process is getting up to and I attempted to answer without getting too vague or whiny (note: I cannot do this), she made a polite sound that went something like, "You'll be glad when it's done and you've got your house," but I think I ruined it by replying, "Well, it doesn't really matter if I will be glad or not, does it?" I tried to laugh but she could only say "No, I guess it doesn't," and move on to another subject.
I don't want to give the impression that I'm miserable about buying a house. But I can't really say I'm glad or excited or any of those positive emotions that society expects as just another part of the highly-regimented ritual of house-buying, either. (And honestly, even if I was miserable? That wouldn't matter either. I'd still be talking to estate agents and filling in forms and taking my fucking passport to the bank today (because I'm a foreign) and looking for somewhere I can photocopy bank statements for the solicitor.)
I'm not very good at giving the socially-expected reactions, anyway. As well as not wanting kids, I can honestly say that my wedding day was one of he worst days of my life. (I'm glad to be married! But everything about the wedding was so sad and frustrating and awkward and outside my comfort zone that I cringe to think of it, even eight years later.*) From that experience I learned that not feeling able to express my unhappiness, because there was such huge narrative pressure for me as the bride to be radiantly happy, was one of the things that made the whole experience so difficult for me. I think that kind of discomfort at defying society's general expectations is what I'm running up against here now too.
Andrew hates forms, which is why I was filling them all in. And I have the legible handwriting, but that's less a problem than the fact that just being in the room when I'm doing them, and with me asking him as little as possible, leaves him so tense the muscles in his back hurt for the whole day. The forms are a microcosm of the whole process: it doesn't matter whether you come to it eagerly or reluctantly, suddenly or deliberately, whole-heartedly or distractedly, ambitiously springing up the property ladder or warily dealing with the cognitive dissonance of a heretofore non-materialistic lifestyle. You will go through the same meat-grinder as the rest. You will write your National Insurance number here in this box.
I spend years cultivating a conviction that it was wrong to be taught that some ways of living life are good and some ways of living life are bad, that there's more to life than an impressive job title, that failure is okay and the unexpected directions life takes us in can be the best ones...and then you try to buy a house and it's all about those markers of success my parents were always after: Do you have good jobs? What the fuck is your credit like, anyway? Let's talk about insurance. Let's talk about the possibility of one of you dying in the next twenty-five years. Let's talk about the rest of your lives, right now, first thing on a Saturday morning when you're in your pajamas and don't feel very grown-up at all.
But then, never mind all that existential crap: just write your National Insurance number down, for the sixth time, in this box.
* One of the anniversary cards we got, from the aunt so wrong-headed as to send me Thanksgiving cards, had some dross in it about "remembering us as we were when we got married"; Jesus what a terrible idea that would be! When I got married I was raw with grief, in a dress I hated, watching my mom cry the whole day...cheers!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 12:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 12:36 pm (UTC)Oh it's fair enough to not talk about it -- I wish I could be so good at keeping quiet, is all :)
I'm sorry you've had a rough time; we've had a couple false starts too and it's really dispiriting. I hope your rented place is nice.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 12:38 pm (UTC)I hope it's all over and done with for you soon.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 12:43 pm (UTC)Thanks. Andrew confidently told me the other day that it shouldn't take any longer than the end of March but that seems unfeasibly quick to me! And I have no idea why he thinks that; I bet he just made it up. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 01:29 pm (UTC)Also, I'd just like to mention that I love you.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 05:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 03:54 pm (UTC)You could always tell yourself that you're just changing landlords. Except your landlord is now the bank, and they make you do all the repairs, the bastards.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 04:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 05:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 05:35 pm (UTC)And we're certainly not "getting on the proeprty ladder" either. I can hardly imagine anything I'd hate more. (Being asked by the mortgage person from the bank if we plan to move in the next five years is one of the questions that made Andrew go crazy (the other was about whether we intend to have children, actually!).) We are indeed moving somewhere we'd like to live for the long-term, indefinite future.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 06:21 pm (UTC)Partly it's the uncertainty of the whole process - you can invest hours of your life and hundreds of pounds into the process only to be cut back to square one at a moment's notice due to circumstances completely beyond your control. Partly it's having to pore over your life in far more agonising detail than you usually bother with. Who needs to know how much I spend on trivial stuff anyway? I don't struggle to pay my rent, and these mortgage payments are £100/mo cheaper!
The only reason for buying a house AFAICS is that landlords are shit too - it's a short/medium-term investment of horrible stress with the intent that you'll have less day-to-day stress coming from having to give too much money every month to entitled scum who won't fulfil their half of the bargain by giving you somewhere decent to live.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 08:38 pm (UTC)::hugs:: I'm sorry you're having to deal with the same kinds of shit.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 06:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 08:21 pm (UTC)Speaking of which - is this a week you are in Manc? Do you want to meet up.or swim pretty something?
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 08:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 09:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-04 11:29 am (UTC)