I'm renewing the lease for my apartment this month. (I've never renewed a lease in my life.)
For some of you this might seem ridiculous. It's not like you own the place. When are you going to stop throwing money down the toilet and buy a house?
But it is a big deal. On multiple fronts.
1. I live in San Diego, and rent is not cheap. Buying a house on one income, in this market, is a joke. The most basic 3br/2ba house down the street, built 40 years ago, costs $1.2M. So move, you say. Maybe I will one day.
2. This is a huge turning point. In my whole adult life, I have never lived in, or worked at the same place, for longer than 1 year.
The last time I lived somewhere longer than 1 year was in middle school when I lived in Mexico.
To be honest, when I got the renewal letter in my email, I felt nauseous.
Do we want to stay here? Is it worth it? Can we afford it?
Can I find something better, or cheaper, in two weeks, before the offer price goes up? (Happy holiday weekend to you too, leasing office! Geez.)
Can I guarantee I'll still have my job for another 12 months? What if something happens? What if I can't pay it? I've never kept a job for more than 1 year. (Unless you count grad school.)
Every other time I'd been forced to move out and find something cheaper, find new roommates, or move to a new job.
This is seriously groundbreaking. Can it be that I actually have the power to decide where to live? That we can make plans, and friends, and a home?
And I gotta tell you friends, part of the reason I'm overwhelmed, is that the instability in my life - over the last 6 years - changing employers, homes, and insurance plans, has been exhausting.
Every time I get a letter in the mail, I tense up.
What now? What did I do? What do I owe? How much? What weird form do I have to fill out or contest? Who do I have to call, and when do they open? How do I appeal? What bogus charge did they make up this time? Where are the stamps, and envelopes? I can't come in person, I moved.
When does my insurance start? When does my insurance end? How much is it? Can I actually get sick?
When can I go to the doctor, see a therapist, fill a prescription? What is my copay? Deductible? Where can I go? What does it cover? What are their hours?
Please. Do. Not. Get. Sick. Right. Now.
Do. Not. Break. A. Tooth.
Tickets, fines, registration, deposits, change of address, bills, invoices, balance due.
Do you know what it was like losing insurance after I gave birth, because someone in HR forgot to put in my apartment number? And not being able to see my therapist, postpartum, because my coverage had been suspended? Do you know what it's like to try to buy insurance for your newborn, over Christmas, for an hour, on hold, trying not to wake her up? Or realizing you lost insurance because you didn't fill out one of the 20 sheets of paper they give you when they discharge you from the hospital?
I'm getting better at not letting it get to me, but it's a work in progress, and I still get triggered anytime I get a letter in the mail.
I got my renewal offer when I was hanging out with the neighborhood kids who knock on our door to play with my daughter. I like those kids. They're good to her, even though she's only 2 and they're 5 and 8. They're sweet. I like our neighbors. I like our place, even though its small. Could be better, could be bigger, but it's alright. I like our spot. I finally started using the pool and the gym.
Maybe I will renew that lease, and I will have this job in a year, and I'll even become closer with my neighbors. Maybe we'll have friends over and use the pool. Maybe I'll start living. When the time is right, maybe we'll move somewhere bigger, or even buy something. But for now, maybe I'll enjoy myself, and breathe.
Here's to changing some of the narrative in my head that is used to operating in survival mode and spending all my energy protecting myself and my family from a million ways to mess up.