Kat Atwell is a freelance writer, blogger & stage presence telling stories that deliver laughs, validation & community.

Mental Health | Wellness & Self Image | Experiential & Reviews

Selling a home can be fun!

I lied. No it can’t. THERE IS NO FUN IN THIS.

Our place is about to go on the market, and this is the first time I’m in the position of selling.

I am not a fan.

So, no big secret here — I have a significant anxiety disorder. One of my triggers has to do with the appearance of my home. Now, I get that a lot of people feel the need to clean up for company and what not, and that’s normal.

For my 40th birthday party a couple years ago, I decided to face my fear of having people over by inviting some of my closest friends to the house for a little get-together. Sounds cozy, and not real planning-intensive. Pretty low-key.

Nope. This was terrifying.

I would rather stand naked in front of a stranger than let a friend (much less someone I don’t know) see the inside of my house on any particular day. I’m not exaggerating.

I cried while trying to clean my house to the point that I felt it was adequate for people to enter, to celebrate my birthday. I’m fairly certain I apologized to everyone that came into my house that night. Nobody else really gave it a second glance, but I was in knots. I did wind up having a good time (yay friends! and wine! and wine!), but the anxiety stuck around.

Fast forward to now. The realtors came to see the house. Crippling shame. They hired cleaners to come and organize stuff and I spent most of that particular day feeling utterly mortified and actually broke out in hives. Today, the photographers came to take pictures and before we’d even left for school, I had my daughter googling (aloud, mind you) “HOW DO I HELP MY MOM GET THROUGH A PANIC ATTACK?”

I have been miserable. I’ve already asked several friends if they would be willing to knock me unconscious when the open house happens, but so far, there have been no takers.

I know this is a good thing. We’re going to get a house that hopefully I can honestly turn into a home I love. I don’t want to be embarrassed to have people over. I don’t want to hold myself to a standard I wouldn’t expect of others. I want my home to feel comfortable, and well-loved, and yes, have completed home-improvement projects and lamps that match. I want that. And in order to get there, I have to focus on the moving forward.

So, send good thoughts this way. Understand that some folks struggle with weird stuff and it’s not your job to fix it. Also, buy my house.

And if you’re in Colorado and need kick-ass realtors that are really on-point when handling clients in the midst of (repeated) panic attacks, please reach out to my friends Claire and Thomas at Bluebird Real Estate Group.

And also this…

The other day, I prefaced something by asking both of them if it was OK to present them with a weird question. AT THE SAME TIME, this is how they responded…

Thomas: Yes, you should hide your sex toys.

Claire: No, I do not have a yeast infection.

My people. Sweet Jesus, how I love my people. This totally counts as a testimonial, by the way.

It has been a curious 2017 so far, emotionally.