renting – Lessons I learned after I turned 30

July the 16th

There’s not much to say for the actual day. That’s what normally happens doesn’t it? It’s always the build up before the big day that causes most of the angst and it’s almost never as bad as you think it will be.

Monday, 16th of July

I woke up bright and early despite the exhaustion and the slight hangover (all worth it Jaba!). I had plans for the weekend I was not willing to cancel because of the move. Jazz night in London on Saturday, Mark’s 50th BBQ party on Sunday, I couldn’t possibly miss either so I spent the little time I had in between to pack and on Monday morning I was almost ready.

I had a last cup of coffee at the old place, finished packing and headed to the agency to fill in the paperwork and get the keys. On my way there I kept thinking of everything that happened the last 6 months. I know this is just in my mind, a symbolic gesture but it felt I can leave all of it behind, in that flat. As if never happened. Although it did. But I take what I learned from each and move on. Somehow every time it feels easier.

I went back home and waited for Barry, my removal man. After about two hours it was all done. Barry and his wife were just brilliant. Although I had more stuff that I originally thought, they squeezed everything in their van and didn’t charge me extra and they took special care of my more precious belongings.

I had no furniture other than my bed, a dressing table and a TV stand so after I unpacked most of my things, I put some blankets and cushions in a corner of the living room and connected the TV. It would do for now…

I was unbelievably happy I finally moved back on my own. Still, after two months, I catch myself smiling when thinking I now live alone again and I love everything about my new place, the space, they layout, the balcony, I even made a new friend, Mr Coco Flaps (thanks to Dan and Emma’s wonderful children who helped with the name).

I tortured myself over the last couple of months overthinking, wondering if I was the problem.

Did I overreact? Should I have put up with living with someone else for a bit longer? Dirty dishes in the sink, not paying the Council tax and not saying anything until I got a letter (the first one I didn’t get to see until yesterday) from the Council. Surely it’s not just me who wouldn’t put up with this?

Did I cause getting ghosted twice over the last six months? Have I sub-consciously done something to make people disappear with no explanation? I would have never done that to anyone and it still shocks me that people think it’s OK to do that.

If that happened to you too, it is definitely NOT you. It’s not your fault if others are not brave or honest enough to just say what they think and what they feel.

I’m not sure if everything happens for a reason. But you certainly learn from every single experience. Sometimes is a reminder of something you already know, sometimes it’s a brand new lesson and sometimes through a bad experience, you make new friends, you become closer to your existing friends and you appreciate life more.

I’m a firm believer of starting over whenever you want to, it doesn’t have to be New Year or New Week or New Day, it could be a New Second, you can decide to change your life anytime, but moving into a new place is a de facto new start and an opportunity to hit the refresh button. There’s still a lot I want to do and as much as I try it’s not going to happen overnight, all this ‘When you desperately want something, the universe will make it happen’ is simply not true. Your life changes for the better when you keep trying and keep improving yourself. Just remember to be happy with where you are right now, love your self unlimitedly and don’t forget what you achieved so far. I certainly remind myself often.

As Adriene would say the light in me bows to the light in you.

Namaste

Eleni

July the 16th, the Tuesday before. Divine Intervention

Tuesday, 10th of July

Is it morning yet?

It was a beautiful, sunny morning but it all I could see still was grey.

I somehow make it to work.

I got an email from the agency, the flat I’ve seen yesterday wouldn’t be ready for the 16th and someone made an offer to rent it at the end of the month, when it would be available. My heart sank.

I’m feeling sick again.

What should I do? Should I go for one of the claustrophobic, depressing studio flats I’ve seen and get it over with? Should I just give up for now and move in with Jamie until I find a place?’What should I do??

I had a last look online and there it was, a one bed flat on the High Street I’ve seen on Rightmove before but it was over my budget. The price was now reduced, still overbudget but only by £35. It is available now and it looks pretty.

I call the estates agent to arrange a viewing, for today if possible. I explained my situation and she re-assured me that moving in less than a week is possible as the flat was vacant.

I could go see it in about an hour but I’m at work, I can’t just leave. The only time the agent could do was 1:15pm, but there would be someone else viewing it at the same time. Just my luck. But I’d still go. You never know.

From 9am until lunchtime I was a wreck. I tried really hard to concentrate and do some work but every now and then my mind would fall into despair and I all I wanted to do is cry.

Divine Intervention

Suddenly I get a message from Dan, one of the very few people who can understand the way my mind works, the crazy spiral it goes into when I’m stressed. He was at the Uni early for our choir session so I meet him downstairs. He gives me a big hug and we have a chat. Talking to him was the only thing that eased my mind for a while.

Under other circumstances I would give the rehearsal a miss, I can’t concentrate to do anything, let along remember lyrics and harmonies, but our little surprise for Graduation is in three days, this one was going to be just for that and I wouldn’t have missed that for anything. After our session I ran. I ran to make it to my appointment on time.

I viewed the flat at the same time as an elder couple and their daughter, they came along with her, she seemed very shy, I guess that’s why she brought their parents.

I loved it from the first time I walked into the building. Spacious corridors with laminated floors, grandiose mirrors on each floor, freshly clean smell and the flat itself was spacious, more than enough for one, modern, it even had a large balcony I didn’t know about.

Do I like it ’cause it’s actually nice or because I’m desperate to move on the 16th and avoid the hassle of moving twice? I often wonder why and how I do things. Sometimes I can easily recognise that I do something I truly like, others because of this innate need, which more than often leads to disappointment, to feel accepted, loved, important, wanted, safe.

This feels right though. I like it for the right reasons. I can see myself living happily here. It’s modern and big enough to have friends over, cosy autumn nights with a hot cuppa watching films or snuggled on my sofa reading a book, sunny mornings doing my yoga in the living room, sitting on the balcony people watching in the summer.

This could be it, but don’t get too excited yet.

I asked the agent what would happen if we both liked the flat. It seems that the young shy girl and her parents liked it too.

-In that case, we’d take both offers to the landlady and she will choose.

-And if I make an offer and is accepted, is it possible to move in on Monday?

-It usually takes over a week, it’s probably not possible. If you like it, give the office a call, as I’m off for the rest of the day and they’ll talk things through.

My heart sank, again. So it probably won’t happen. I called the agency on my way back to work and left a message anyway. An hour went by and didn’t hear from them. I knew it was over. I ran to the toilet and had a cry.

I messaged Jamie if I could still move in his spare room. He fortunately left me a spare key- he was going on holiday today but he is so thoughtful he left me a key at work to use if needed.

Although I was sad things didn’t work out, I was relieved, I didn’t have to stress and desperately keep looking for a place to move in 6 days, my anxiety would be kept at bay, for now.

Divine intervention

I stayed at work late, since I had a long lunch break and around 17:30 I get a phone call, from the agency. In my rush earlier I didn’t leave my name on my message, they lady on the other end of the line told me. I can’t remember much. That’s what happens when I’m too anxious.

It took them hours to figure out who it was.

She told me that if I still wanted to, she could contact the landlady and put my offer forward and if all my references go through within the next 24 hours, I can move in on the 16th.

I couldn’t believe it!

My battery was about to go and I sat at the park, at my favourite bench, patiently waiting for the agent to call me back and let me know if the landlady accepted my offer.

After what felt like hours, but it was actually 10 minutes later my phone rings.

Yes, the landlady agreed!!! I may now have a home!

I stayed there, at the bench, staring at the sun, thanking my lucky stars for today. I then message Chris, Dan, Sheba and my little sister to tell them the good news. I wouldn’t have done it without them. I would have broken down into million pieces and felt so paralysed I wouldn’t have kept going. I can’t stop thinking how lucky I am to have such incredible, loving, caring friends and family.

The huge rock that was on my back, crushing my bones into the ground all this time was suddenly lifted. It’s not over yet, I still need the references to go through quickly, I know my manager will fill in the forms instantly but what about my current landlord?

To be continued…

July the 16th, the Monday before

July the 16th, a date that filled me with joy and anticipation, the day I were to move out of a shared flat into my own little heaven once again, a day I’ve been eagerly waiting for months… a day that caused me sleepless nights and severe anxiety, though it was all worth it in the end.

Monday, 9th of July, the week before the big date…

Morning. Another sleepless night. I drag myself out of bed, get ready as fast as I possibly can and head to work. The weather has been glorious, sun shining, birds chirping, but my stress has transformed everything into a melancholic Van Gogh painting.

I find a wrapped bottle of something on my desk… What is it? Who is it from?

Denise brought me rose water from Cyprus!!! I can’t believe she remembered.

I open it there and then and wash my hands with it. I almost cried. Sweet childhood memories of hot summer days back home, washing my giagia Stella’s face with it, spraying it in my face ’cause I loved the smell so much.

For a moment I forget all my troubles. I wish Denise knew what that meant to me. I needed that brief time of calmness and joy in the sea of worries that’s been drowning me for the last couple of weeks. I’m so lucky to have such wonderful friends.

12:45pm. I just came back to work after the fourth viewing in the last two weeks. I think I liked this flat the most out of the rest. It’s small, but not a studio, it’s just opposite work, is a bit over budget but it will do. I can make it work.

I saw a recipe in Greek on the fridge, hah he is Greek…

It will finally put an end to this endless anxiety and constant worry whether I’d have somewhere to move to next Monday. But not just somewhere, somewhere I at least like.

The flats I’ve already seen were either too small, or too old, or no washing machine, or no oven (I have no idea how the person who lived there survived without an oven). I guess I can always compromise.

If I could make a decision…

The excruciating pain of my paralysing inability to make a decision… Should I go for a studio flat and try and save more money or should I pay a bit more and live somewhere nice for the first time ever after I broke up with Costas, rather than a tiny studio or an old building or living with a flatmate again? What’s most important? Location or space? What should I do? Compromise and try to save or go for comfort for once? Treat myself instead? But Chris is right, it may be better to wait and find a place I really like, a place that feels like home. What if I don’t find a place by next Monday, what if I end up on the street? What if am making the wrong decision? What is the meaning of life anyway? Aaaah

I haven’t slept well in weeks, I don’t have much of an appetite and I feel I may throw up any minute now.

I’m waiting for the agency to give me a call back and let me know whether the current tenant can move out of the flat by Monday, they reassured me that would probably be OK, but they have to check with him…

-We’ll let you know as soon as possible, in a couple of hours, he (the tenant) usually gets back to us quick.

2pm, 3pm, 4pm, 5pm. I haven’t heard back from them.

I could barely concentrate at work, but thankfully managed to keep on top.

I went home, had something small to eat and went to bed. I couldn’t do anything else.

What if the tenant can’t move out on the 16th? Should I go for one of the flats I’ve already seen? Maybe the larger studio I liked but in an ugly, dirty building? Should I stay with Jamie for a while instead until I find somewhere I really like? But what will I do with my stuff? Maybe just go for the small, tiny one that is available now?

Pleasee stop, everything will be OK, I’m sure the agent will call first thing in the morning and tell you everything will be fine, go to sleep. But what if?

I barely slept.