by Jon Biddle


They safe moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do as an adult. In my younger years with my wife and children, we moved often, not really finding our groove. Until the house we have been living in for nearly twenty years.

Some of you know as you have been part of the journey, this house is sold now, which has triggered me into an old childhood associative memory of sadness. For such a long time now, I have been so happy, and this darkness pervading me has left me a little stumped. Causing Sam and me to clash. I hate arguing with her. I worship the ground she walks on, and let’s be honest, I’ve been a shit husband because of it.

Moving house has triggered my mental health where I have retreated into myself. I blow a fuse at the drop of a hat and can’t wade through the reeds of my thoughts as easy as I could eight weeks ago.

Selling my house has been an important step for me, to break free and have a fresh start. The house was oppressive, a negative space for my thoughts, yet I am inexplicably linked to the house. Having said the negative, this house gave me the joy of watching my children grow up. I discovered I had cognitive thought and took myself off to university and changed my life. It’s where I finally found the courage to become a published author. There are so many happy thoughts and this has been the trigger for me.

I had a challenging childhood with a bully as a father. I don’t hate him. I think he’s just unwell himself, which precipitated his hatred towards me. I was in the state of fight-or-flight throughout my childhood and teenage years, living in fear of this weak man who thought he was doing the right thing.

So when I had my house, where my children are growing up, the saying a house is a man’s castle is so true for me. My home is a precious space for me, holy ground in which I am safe. A place where no one can influence me, affect me or compromise me. They have to pass through the threshold where any negative thinking stops the person from coming into my home. A house filled with light. So when you’re now faced with a prospect of not finding a house suitable and the buyer of your own home is pushing relentlessly, I am no longer in this safe place. I have no safe place. I feel a victim in my doing, cornered in the old way of thinking, which is completely outdated. In my own house sale and this should be a period of excitement, but I can’t find the fun in any of it. It scares me I have no place to call home. The whole insecurity of things has caused me to retract to my childhoods old associative memory. To a place where I felt unsafe. The circumstances are irrelevant, it’s just the emotions which dog you back to a place where you felt nothing but pain and insecurity, which gives rise to that inner critic. ‘You’re not good enough,’ ‘you’re a bad person, go kill yourself,’ ‘no one will care.’ ‘Just stop wasting people’s time.’ Sound familiar?

The fun thing is here, no one knows what the future will hold and I should let the universe take care of things. The universe is something which protects us all. The knack is tuning into it and having the strength to allow the universe to guide us.

This post might come across as dark, but the flip side of this thinking is good, fun and exciting. I know I am safe. I know nothing bad is going to happen. I am going to be the richest homeless person in the UK and should roll up my sleeves and jolly well get on with it. This moment of pain will give rise to something good. A nice house in which both Sam and I can grow into to.

Fundamentally, I have to be proactive in my thoughts. Continually checking into them, seeing where I am, making sure the thoughts are not abusing me. I am safe; I am good and I am worth everything to be happy with. This moment of struggle is something I have brought on myself in order to find the good in this world.

The good thing about all of this, this will change the neural wiring I had as the boy. The last influence of the parent who wished me harm will stay in the house I have been living in for the last twenty years. A breath of fresh air I will experience next week is something I just can’t imagine right now.

I cannot wait.

Photo by Dziana Hasanbekava from Pexels

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