Please help me get over my grief for my old home. I feel ridiculous writing this, given what's happening globally, but I'm literally consumed with depression and this is all I'm thinking about. I've been very poorly recently too and I'm sure my anxiety /depression about this is slowing my recovery. My mental health is not great at the best of times, and I'm honestly feeling so so sad about the life we've given up. This is a long post - apologies.
Last year, we sold our beautiful old detatched house (early 18th century farmhouse, very quirky, very low ceilings, not for everyone, beautiful big private garden, on a fairly busy B road through the village. A wow house) and moved to an Edwardian semi on a private road in a cheaper city centre 15 miles away (up to an hours drive depending on traffic) . The new house borders a rough and deprived area, but it was my husband's choice as it was me pushing the move so I let him decide (for context, we moved back to my home city and I did voice my concern about the area) .
We didn't really want to move, but, in the old house, never had much disposable income as we'd really stretched ourselves to buy it , had about £15,000 of (well-managed) debt and I felt the problems in our relationship would be solved if we had no money worries (mainly my husbands hatred of his job which causes him a lot of stress and he was often grumpy around the children ). I didn't ever see my old friends (who didn't want to drive out to see me) but since moving, I've realised that they aren't really my friends at all anyway. We've all moved on. I also felt we were too involved with my husband's family who lived close to us, whilst we rarely saw mine so I wanted to put some distance between us. ( his side of the family are close and loving, whereas mine are not). There were around 4000 cars passing the house across the day.,mainly during rush hour (the road had a 20mph speed limit but most didn't follow this) and I used to complain about that too. Following the birth of our second child a few years ago, I went back to work 4 days a week. This meant we had to seriously budget and had no money for every day house repairs etc and if we wanted to go on holiday or buy Christmas presents etc, I'd have to put it on a credit card or extended our bank loan. The plan was, that we would move, I would get a new job and go down to 3 days and my husband would now only be 1 mile away from his place of work, but the actual job I've been offered is full time on a lower responsibility level.
By moving to a cheaper city, we were able to halve our mortgage, pay off our debts and we can now sustain the new house on one salary if needed. We are now closer to my family who had made grand promises of helping more with the children (which hasn't materialised). We had no help at all from my husband's family in this respect.
Since being on lock-down, I've realised my heart just isn't in the new house. I desperately pine for our old place and have realised that although we had no money, we were all actually really happy and it was my crappy negative mental health and pessimistic ways that emphasised the problems outlined above. The new house is on a private road of big victorian and Edwardian terraces. The one next to us has been converted into flats occupied by young professionals. I hate having neighbours (I can hear their front door open and close, occasionally can smell weed through the walls and had to phone their landlord when I could hear loud computer games/music blasting through the walls at 3 in the morning). Our garden is loads smaller and is on the end of the terrace so we often have people waking right alongside the garden where we had total privacy before.
I miss my old house, the walks into fields from the doorstep and I'm regretting pushing my husband into the move. He did know I was very unsure and I wish he'd talked me out of it.
My daughter (8) is now going through an autism assessment (prompted by teachers at her new school) and it would often take 2hours to persuade her to put her school uniform on in the old house . She didn't appear to like her old school so we also thought the move might be good for her. Instead, she is heartbroken. She has made friends in our new street (which is a bonus, as we had no immediate neighbours in our old house and her school was 2 miles away so didn't have school friends locally) but she has cried for our old house and life. She constantly wants to talk about old memories (I do too!). She is very violent now and this has became a lot worse since we moved. We couldn't get her into our school of choice in the new area, and although the teachers are amazing at the one she goes too, she's mixing with children from one of the roughest areas in the country and her speech/accent , demeanour and attainment have all plummeted. My son loved his old childminder and hasn't really settled with his new one despite being there since September. We had burglars in our front garden last week who took loungers and the children's slide, and since then, as well as being bedridden through illness, I have got myself in a state about what I've put my family through as this move was all my idea. I've brought huge change on us all and it's just horrible. I believed that the move would cause our problems to go away, but I was wrong.
I've spoken to my husband who has got quite upset saying he didn't want to move in the first place. The sad thing is, we couldn't afford to buy our old house back. We are both on lower wages now than when we got our mortgage on the old house and prices in the area had risen significantly. Even if we moved back to the area, life would never be as it was.
I'm absolutely heartbroken. I've tried speaking to my husband this morning, and he told me he's really pissed off as he never wanted to move and told me this would happen. I know I should be grateful that we have a roof over our head, but I can't shake the anxiety weighing me down.
Whar should I do? If I push to move again, it means unsettling the children again.
Has anyone else ever moved and regretted it? How do i get over this?