Uncertain future

On February 17th—in the middle of nine days of power outages due to an ice storm—we asked the foundation contractor to go out and re-inspect our house. We experienced some stability last fall, and I worry that this may indicate a deeper problem.

For thirty minutes, the contractor explored the crawl space, and I sat in the living room, distraught. When he was finished, he came over and told me what he had found.

“Look,” he said, “my evaluation is the same as when you brought me here three years ago. You have a good foundation. This is not a failure. The house has not collapsed.”

I felt a wave of relief in my heart.

“That said,” he continued, “I do think that if you reinforce a part of the foundation, you will feel better. In my opinion, you seem to see some slight expansion and contraction of the soil, which is what caused you The cause of the settlement problem. It will cost approximately US$9,000 to solve this problem.”

That night, when Kim and I were curled up in our helpless living room, wrapped in coats and jackets, reading with a flashlight, I confessed.

“I want to move,” I said. “I know we all like this house and this yard, but it has an impact on my mental health.”

“I know,” Kim said. “I know you have been struggling. Since we moved in, I have seen you become more and more frustrated and anxious. I will make you happy at all costs, but I think maybe you should give up your dream of owning an old house.”

She is right. I like old houses, but my character is not suitable for them. They put pressure on me. (My ex-wife and I also own an old house—she still lives there—and this puts endless pressure on me.)

In the next few weeks, Kim and I spent a lot of time discussing our best course of action.Then, today, a month ago, we made a decision: We will sell the house as soon as possible (using Crazy Portland Real Estate Market), and then rent a place for a period of time, we made a careful and thoughtful decision on where to live next.

start to act

March is a crazy event. From the moment we decided to sell, Kim and I have been working almost non-stop to prepare for the market.

• We have performed almost all repairs that we know need to be completed. We still have a few reservations. (We are postponing foundation reinforcement. We will disclose inspections and estimates to buyers so that they can make a decision.)
• We rented a storage unit and orderly packed what we didn’t need and moved it in. In addition, I moved out of the rented office space and put all these things in the storage room.
• When packing our luggage, we tried to deep clean every corner of the house: scrubbing the walls, cleaning windows, cleaning cabinets and so on.
• We are also cleaning the yard. During the four years in this country house, we collected all kinds of things—spare timber, old fences, unearthed stones—and we piled them in a pile. We are cleaning up those heaps.

To be honest, this house looks better now than it has ever been.

When we were preparing, we were torn apart.US Do Love this house and yard. The yard, especially, is almost perfect for us. But there is no doubt that this family, for whatever reason, will make me feel mentally painful. I can’t live here.

In fact, I spent the first half of March in a dark place. When I meditated in the house, I was full of anxiety. Whenever a disaster might happen, I would say disastrously: “What if the house cannot be sold? What if the contractor we call finds more errors? What if we can’t sell it at the price of the input?”

I am a mess. This affected my relationship with Kim.

Rediscover yourself

Fortunately, for various reasons, things have improved in the past two weeks.

First of all, the contractors who came out are no Found that the house is more troublesome. In fact, each of them said something similar: “Yes, the thing I’m fixing is a problem, but it’s not as bad as you think. I don’t see any problems.”

Secondly, I have been working hard to practice mindfulness. When new fears surfaced, I acknowledged them and moved on. “Oh, yes, I’m emphasizing the drain again. But we have solved the problem ahead of time, and the contractor said there are no other problems, so I’m just emphasizing something.”

In connection with this, I keep asking myself, “What is the worst possible scenario?” We bought this place for $442,000. We spent another approximately $150,000 on repairs and renovations. (I will get an accurate figure by the end of today.) Therefore, the cost basis for our place is approximately $600,000.

“It’s easy for the land itself to be worth $300,000,” I told myself as I browsed Zillow to see the selling prices of other houses. “With a house, we should be able to easily get 442,000 US dollars. With all the upgrades we have done, it should be able to sell for 500,000 US dollars. It may even be 550,000 US dollars. So, even if I really lose money on the house, I Maybe you won’t lose too much.” Basically, I tried my best to convince myself to get rid of the disaster.

Finally-and perhaps most importantly-I started taking my ADHD medication two weeks ago.

When I was diagnosed with ADHD in 2012, my therapist and doctor prescribed Vyvanse, a mild stimulant. I simply accepted these things, but stopped after a few days because I hated the feeling it gave me.Although it undoubtedly makes me feel at ease, Vyvanse makes me physically nervous. My heart calmed down, but my body coiled like a spring for eight hours.So, I only use these things occasionally, when I knowledge I must finish things.

Then, Kim and I read This article on ADHD From our friend David Kane. “David’s article may be about you“Jin said. She was right. Everything he wrote seemed to come from my own thoughts and my own experience.

At the same time, I read an article describing the link between ADHD and depression/anxiety. Suddenly, everything rang. “Gosh,” I thought. “If my depression and anxiety get worse-even cause — ADHD? “

So, at Kim’s urging (and my business partner Tom’s urging), I started taking ADHD medications every day. I have been taking them every day for nearly three weeks. do you know? Depression and anxiety (mostly) disappeared. I was serious.no, I do not like it Side effects of Vyvanse, But when I consider the benefits, these side effects may be worthwhile.

I still noticed various defects in the house, but they no longer caused me to fall into confusion. Everything in my head seems calmer and more organized. My short-term memory has improved significantly. (Kim and Kris told me long ago that my short-term memory is poor. I now find that this may be related to ADHD.)

Also, as one might expect, Vyvanse keeps me focused. I can work like a normal person! I wake up in the morning, take medicine, drink coffee, and then I process my to-do list, one task at a time. I don’t jump around, moving from one chore to another. I just choose a job and work hard to complete it.

For example, about 45 minutes ago, I sat down and wrote this article. During that time, I have been writing uninterruptedly.More exciting (for me), I wrote this article Linearly Rather than bouncing around from start to end to middle to end to start to middle to end. I started from the beginning, now in the middle, nearing the end. This way of writing is very enlightening!

Uncertain future

Our future is dark.

Now, Kim and I don’t know where we will live in a month, let alone a year. But we are fine.

If everything goes according to plan, our home will be ready to go public in about ten days. Like many other parts of the country, Portland currently has low housing inventories, and homes are selling fast—even weird homes like ours. This place is likely to be sold on its first weekend of listing.

Once we have accepted the offer and the house has passed the inspection, we will look for a place to rent. (By the way, this is something that puts pressure on Kim. She worries that we can’t find a place to hold all our beasts: three cats and one dog.) When we rent a house, we spend time looking for another one. Place to live.

We may stay in the Portland area, maybe in a small town far from the city. But it is also possible that we will find ourselves settled on the southern coast of Oregon. Or maybe somewhere in Washington. Or maybe in Omaha. (I spent too much time browsing houses on Zillow. You can get smoking discounts on beautiful houses in Omaha. Isn’t it fun to live just a few blocks from Warren Buffett?)

Yesterday, my friend Castle and her husband came out to drag away the old fence. (Castle and Jim are artists. They turned old fences into cool crafts and sold them at the Saturday Market in Portland.) They told us where they bought it years ago.

“We live on the Washington side, about an hour’s drive north of Portland,” Castle told us. “We have a few acres of land, which provides a buffer between us and our neighbors. In addition, it provides us with space for farming and gardening. We bought a man-made house, but it’s great. It’s very good and it’s cheap many.”

Jin’s eyes lit up. “I like this idea. I can live in a man-made house,” she said. Then she looked at me. “However, I don’t know if JD can do it. He grew up in it. He has no fond memories of it.”

I shrugged. At this point, I don’t rule out anything. I grew up in a dilapidated mobile home. This is true, and I always think this is a mark of how poor we are.

However, I have been living in a standard ranch house ever since. Twice, I lived in an old house in a big quirky courtyard. I drove a motorhome for 15 months on the road. For four years, I have owned a penthouse apartment overlooking the river. I began to realize that a house is just a house. Now, I think I can live almost anywhere—just not here.

This article focuses on some of the psychological and emotional reasons for moving. I am preparing another article that explores the financial aspects of decision-making.