take the wind right out of my sails.
The first half of this year was incredibly hard. The fire took a massive toll on us. After weeks of back and forth with the insurance company, trying to prove what we owned and that it was all IN the shed, we finally got a payout - which then wasn't as much as we had hoped for. It helped, certainly, but it didn't cover much of what we'd lost. Then it was two whole months
before the shed was demolished. Eight weeks of having the burnt-out shell sitting, roped off, in the yard. We couldn't walk, or even look, out the back of the house without being confronted by it. We all felt guilt for the fire happening, while still trying to come to terms with everything we'd lost.
The official fire report came as a complete shock - it was along the lines of "We can't determine for sure what started the fire, but hey, the police report said the kids had a smoking area nearby, so let's just go with that being the most likely cause". As a result, the homeowner's insurer decided that we owed them the amount they'd paid out to the owners for the loss of the shed. It was double what we'd got from our insurer - which we have nothing left of anyway, because we did what we were supposed to do and spent it on replacing what we could. That caused major stress for us, but the insurance companies are apparently battling it out between themselves in court.
These are all things I think of now whenever I hear there has been a fire. The "aftermath" stuff that no one ever knows about unless they experience it.
Our landlords got their payout for the shed and planned to build a new one, then decided to just put the house on the market instead. We could see their reasoning; they could keep the money from the shed, sell the house (for a great price in the current market) and be well on the way to financial freedom. I mean, of course that's the obvious way to go. It just put us in a terrible position. For rental tenants, this year has been the worst for finding a new place to live. We had visions of ending up camped by the river, like so many others in our area. The owners also still needed to do work on the house, which they'd been renovating since we moved in, so we had them around us regularly while we were all dealing with the fallout from the fire. They said we didn't have to rush to move, but really? By that stage, we just wanted to be out of there.
With the emotional toll of everything we were dealing with, and the unexpected death of a very dear friend, my Caveman became totally overwhelmed. He plunged into a deep, at one stage suicidal, depression. Unfortunately, I was struggling to cope with everything too, so our marriage was rocky for a while and that took a bit of clawing back. Without the support of his psychologist, I'm not sure he'd still be here now, or that we'd be together.
So far, so miserable, right?
Luckily, things did start to turn around and the second half of the year has definitely been better. Our eldest son moved with friends to another town, three and a half hours away. Initially, this felt like another blow, but he was stepping well out of his comfort zone by moving so far away from us and it has really paid off for him. The job opportunities are much better there, so he has worked solidly since arriving 6 months ago. We miss him but we all visit each other when we can and he seems more mature and confident each time.
Just a couple of days before the fire, our Cavegirl had transitioned from being an assistant at a local salon to beginning a hairdressing apprenticeship. She has done a great job of sticking with it during all the turmoil and really seems to have found the right job and social network for herself. Like her big brother, her maturity and confidence has impressed us as the year has gone on.
Our "littlest" Caveman, now 6'3" (nearly as tall as his brother!), has shown maturity beyond his 14 years. He kept checking on the rest of us after the fire, as if it were his job to make sure everyone was alright. We got him some counselling to make sure he was okay, but he is fine. He focuses on living a typical teenage life, pushing the usual boundaries, but we're really very close.
We were incredibly fortunate to be approved for another rental house, which we moved into in early July. We love our new house. It's a 1980's home, so it feels roomy and comfortable, with a big yard and gardens we enjoy looking after. We are still "townies", but we have always liked this area. Moving here felt like a fresh start so we have made the most of it. The Caveman's mental health has improved so much and I am now on hormones for my menopause, which means we are both in a better place emotionally. I've cut back my work hours a little, we're living a healthier lifestyle and making more time for each other. Our relationship is much better than it was and we're back to enjoying the time we spend together.
Moving house swallowed up the last of the money we had left from our insurance payout and we still have to wait and see what the outcome is of the upcoming court case, but in the meantime we are focused on living day to day. We keep getting rid of clutter. We all joke that losing so much in the fire was a great way to downsize in a hurry and it's inspired us to have less "stuff". Of course it's not funny, but if we didn't laugh, we'd cry for everything we lost. We salvaged a few precious things from the rubble, but I haven't sorted through very much of it yet. The burnt smell bothers me. For months after the fire, I would wake in the middle of the night and panic, thinking the house was burning down. I'm a lot better now, but fear of fire will probably be with me - all of us - for a long time yet. We are still on friendly terms with our previous landlords, although we prefer not to dwell on how things have worked out for them compared to us. It's not helpful. I'd rather focus on gratitude and optimism.
To use a clichè, we do feel like we're rising from the ashes. There is so much to be thankful for and - fingers crossed! - a bright future still ahead.
