Hang On To That House

Three years ago, when my son graduated and left our beautiful home, I started to worry about the future. At age 59, I knew that I would probably never generate more than the 9.00 per hour which had been my lifetime earning capacity. I had dipped into my home equity twice in order to pay off credit card debts. I had visions of scrounging around in alleys and eating out of dumpsters, and I decided to do something about it.

Consolidating my life experience down to a two-room condo was quite traumatic. I had to give or toss away at least two thirds of everything I had ever accumulated. I had to let go of my dog because I would be living on the second floor and I would not have a yard. Of course, that meant no more rose garden either. I had to give up all of my son's childhood memorabilia which was still part of my own identity. I sacrificed my life as I knew it in order to save $600.00 a month.

I could not stand it. I felt like I lived in a lifeless coffin and that I had aged myself by ten years. I had no inspiration, I was literally sickened by the confinement of my living space. I decided in order to save my sanity I would have to try to find another house, so I started hunting.

The house which I sold had cost me $210,000.00 in 1997. I sold it for 255,000.00 in 2003. When I looked around at what was available to me a year later, I almost fainted. In the six years that I had lived there, housing prices had climbed so much that I started reeling with sick regret. The $210,000.00 that I paid for my lovely brand new house in 1997 would now buy a soggy, two or three room bungalow. Any house even remotely comfortable was now going for at least $250,000.00 to $300,000.00. Even the house that I sold for $255,000.00 had climbed to over $300,000.00 in just one year. My condo, on the other hand, had appreciated around 3,000 in that year.

It became obvious to me that selling my home and my treasured past was not only unnecessary, it was even a financial loss. I felt like all options had been closed to me. I grieved with agony over the home I had so carelessly thrown away, for a price that would soon not even pay for a boathouse. I could not imagine why my realtor was so adamant in talking me into going through with it every time I tried to pull out. (Commission, maybe?) She really had me convinced it was the only move to make, someone in "my position," and of course, she was the expert in real estate, so I made myself believe her.

If I had lost that home due to a hurricane or a fire, I could have accepted the setback with stoic endurance because I would know that it had occurred outside of my own personal power. But the fact that I had PURPOSEFULLY ditched a rare opportunity to be happy, even to own something that was ensuring my future security, was simply more than I could bear. I had done something irreversible. I had taken a situation which requires a lifetime to put together, a few rare breaks, a lot of unique timing and I had thrown it away. I had now priced myself out of the market and I would never own or live in a house again.

I encourage anyone to hang on, anyone who is fortunate enough to have belonged in an era of history when ordinary people still had the option of buying homes . It won't come again. You are hanging on to a rare commodity. You have an extraordinary possession. Even if your home is no where near being paid off, you are still accumulating at least 20% equity every year that you stay in it. The best part is, on top of building up security, you are also living the lifestyle you choose to live, and I found this to be the most important asset of all.

Article Source: http://www.rightarticle.com

Olga Moe lives on an island in the Puget Sound. She is known mostly for her fiction contributions to which can be found at

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