I felt like this about my last house, and in fact would have happily stayed many years in the two prior to that (14 so far, all driven by exh). It had to be sold when we divorced. I loved it so much and still miss it 5 years on, I'll never be able to live somewhere as spacious or as lovely again.
Current house is tiny in comparison, will never be fully finished as can't afford it, is never clean or tidy as v little time and still trying to continue clearing to make space. I do like it, aware I'm lucky to have it, and do NOT regret leaving dickhead ex. But won't be here forever. Garden is much too big for us (bigger than I realised, was v overgrown before, whole place was awful), can't manage here without a car, and stairs are lethally steep and uneven. When we're old we'll probably need to move. Current dh loves it and never wants to move, but will have to at some point.
Basically, sounds dramatic but inside I feel like my ability to really love and connect with a home got broken by abusive ex and won't recover. If money was no object, great, but that'll never happen so I accept where I am. Despite knowing objectively that I'm lucky to have this house and appreciating some things about it, that's how I feel inside - but I don't tell other people.