She told anyone who would listen that the house never felt like a home, that she loved the real estate, but was not "in love" with the property.
Maybe it was real estate rebound where the cracker box sardine can Maine mobile home they had been squeezed in to just seemed to be bursting at the seams. She just wanted out of that relationship. Maybe both she and her husband had their heads in the clouds, madly out of control, head over heels in love after first glance of this money pit of a property when they both uttered the three little words... "We'll take it".
The problems in the "marriage" started when he was never home. Camped out with his friends, buddies at the hardware store getting this and that. All the nickel and dime, penny ante stuff that piled up. Little things really but always in the back ground. Perhaps it was the nickel and dime and fights over where is all the money in this marriage going? Oh the couple tried to make it work with "Do It Yourself Retreats" with weekend get aways of other couples headed down the same lonely road of property divorce. The Lowes and Home Depot inspirational moments to keep their spirits up as the job jar, which became the size of a 55 gallon drum, or a large potato barrel, over flowed with remember to do this, do that. The honey do list didn't cut it, was strangling both members of this marriage. Suffocating, not being able to breath from all the old plaster dust. The on and on house renovation projects and so much time dealing with the "baggage" carried by this property that no one realized the extent of until after the SOLD sign got screwed on the front lawn real estate sign.
Friends, relatives looking in all placed bets, said they would be amazed if the property marriage lasted more than a year.
You looked worn out, tired, like you ran a marathon every night as you tossed, turned and felt you were married and living alone. Empty, the home taking all of you, sucking you dry. They can't say you did not try, that you did not throw "your whole self in", like a real life game of the property hokey pokey. Devoted, dedicated, madly in love with all the flutters, pitter patters that made you think, this is the one. My soul mate property that completed you. Maybe the two of you just not being on the same page as the undo, redo, make do renovations took on a life of their own was the first warning sign. Fights over how fancy to replace this fixture, this window or counter top and what grade the family budget could afford for carpets, appliances, etc. You said granite, I said butchertop block. We fought, arm wrestled over the silliest things. Mountains out of mole hills really. But life and death arm wrestling issues or sore points at the time. Maybe if the two of you had given it a trial, lived together with just renting the ark of a place that you bought with your heart, not your head.The place that Titanic'ed you hook, line and sinker.
The killing, toxic love kind of fatal attraction and ignoring the voice in your head to "just walk away, no run for your life" that you brushed off, buried and figured was just pre-property marriage jitters, self doubts as you grew older, saw all your friends buying places, seemingly happy, content, busy on renovations for their families. But your kids resented the time this monster robbed you of family fun. Stop beating yourself up over missed property clues that were there in plain sight the first time your walked thru the house.That was water under the bridge now as you looked around, tried to figure out how to pick up the property pieces. You were already way way too deep in debt and with ten projects in various states of completion, now what. Reach for the phone, call the REALTOR, the closest thing to a Dr Phil in your local area to help sort it out, to take the emotions away, the sense of failure out of this property marriage. He or she could see the process that led to the real estatederailment, not be judgemental and to really be on both of your sides as you move on with your life.
The REALTOR suggested reading "Men Are At Lowes, Women Are At Sherwin Williams" to see the destructive property pattern, to learn from this lesson, not repeat the mistakes as he had eloquently, empathetically put it.
They needed a friend, a real estate broker they could trust to help them make sense of it all, to see the err of their ways. How this awful chain of events happened. 
You promised at the real estate closing, this property union, coming together was for better or worse. You were committed with your whole heart. But family members sticking their beak in to the house projects, stirring the property pot on what they would have done, what you should do. That caused tension, self doubt, hub bub. And constant little digs, reminders about how they liked the old property partner you were linked up with better and could never figure out why you left that one, moved on.
Now disclosing to the real estate broker with an exit interview what the next couple contemplating this address were getting in to, what lay ahead of them that no one had warned this seller about. Chalk it up to experience, affairs of the heart when your dealing with a place that had wolf whistle curb appeal but a tragic flawed past that started back in the property's child hood. Just not built right, insecurities covered over with joint compound, hidden, waiting like the hydraulic cemented cellar foundation cracks you never saw coming.
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