Phone home!
I’ve been living in foreclosure hell – dozens of black printed letters, guts churning into sleeplessness, auction dates, signs on the door, and strange men taking photos, with no notice. And, as I write this, they are still “reviewing my file,” two years later. Maybe it’s in the lost and found?
We’ve all read about foreclosures, but when someone wants to take your home of twenty years, your stomach hurts. Home base is basic and being underwater is like gulping for air.
Whatever happened to “pride of ownership?” I used to believe that people kept their word. That’s how I grew up. They said if I quit paying, they’d help me get a loan modification. I remember many terrible times that I longed for a couple of days to curl up at home. Instead came a panic attack after being met with an onslaught of notices and phone calls: “This is Chase, this call is taped for compliance. Do you reside at? What is your full name?” I wondered; do these people ever go home?
For years I paid my mortgage, planted trees, lilacs, and the like. Home meant comfort, eating bagels, pajamas, cats and dogs, going to the bathroom! But trauma took their place. The need for security is hard to describe. Abraham Maslow talks about personal growth: that, in order to feel whole and satisfied, we first need food and shelter, then we can love and self-actualize.
Nowadays I’m nauseous – far from wholeness, more like in the hole. Personal and economic depression fills me with dread. I wonder if this is a monopoly or a monopoly game? So, when do I pass “go?”
What was my part in this? I was naive, trusting them when I should have been
better at looking at reality. I stayed in a cycle of abuse instead of finding solutions. I gave away my power; I didn’t fight hard enough, face the facts, make more money and get better at math. Geneen Roth says, in Lost and Found, “despite having lost thirty years of savings ….I still wasn’t sure how we would live or where. And it was clear that the teeny issue of my relationship with money….examining my beliefs and behavior felt like riding a Ferris wheel….” Yes, I did refinance too much. I used the money to get my master’s degree, become a therapist, write a book and host radio. Some say banks are screwing us and it’s true, but I also try to understand my part in any predicament. Though I am sure the Indians, Jews and Blacks didn’t plan the horror they endured, I guess the best we can do is be responsible, speak up, and keep our dignity, as best we can.
This is not my funniest hairball. Having no home shakes your foundation. There’s just something tacky about constant notes tacked to your door. I’m depressed and so is the economy. Four and a half million households are either three payments late or in foreclosure proceedings. I’m not sure anymore why they call it REAL estate. They used to sing: “ This land is your land, this land is my land,” (including California), but trying to keep my home has been a full time job. Sending budgets, bank statements and hearing changing clerks. It’s hard to imagine if you haven’t been there; nightmares, repeating my social security number, my mother’s maiden name and the color of my socks.
Geneen Roth adds: “After Madoff’s confession, living in the mind was like trying to run on broken glass. I’d wake up in the middle of the night in terror….I desperately wanted to turn back the clock…I wanted to know then what I know now and make different decisions about what to do with our money. I wanted to have paid for our house in full.”
I keep learning and trying to understand this mess, but I can say I’ve learned that community cares and I’ve grown in humility, faith and letting go.
Cutting to the Chase, how do I get to home base? I wonder, isn’t anybody home anymore?
Katy Byrne, MA, Psychotherapist, author, radio host. katybyrne@aol.com or Conversationswithkaty.com
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