I was actually thrown out. He chucked my clothes and photos on the kerb and changed the locks.
I got a lot of my stuff. I’m luckier than most.
But I poured £££ into that house. Decorating, nice rugs, kitchen equipment, plants, media, furniture. I did the garden, laid new patio, bought plants, furniture and an outdoor kitchen.
I was stupid. I paid a mortgage that wasn’t in my name, paid the deposit on a house that wasn’t in my name, I’ll never see it again.
It’s a lovely, lovely house.
I’m in a flat now. Small, easy to clean and in a nice area. But it’s not my house. I miss my house and my stuff. Not how I felt in the house, I just miss material things.
My possessions have been disposed of. Plants left to die. The garden won’t be looked after.
I’ll get over it. I have to. But I still feel a twang of longing for my stuff and what I called my home.
How do I get over it?