I Should Be Happy

I’m thirty-five years old and I am intelligent enough to know I do not need the approval of someone else to make me happy or give me self-worth. However, being brainy enough to know that is somewhat different from being able to control the emotion or the need. I’ve never quite been able to disconnect the wiring on my insides that would allow me to be free from seeking the approval of my parents in all of these years. I’ve said so many times here. That’s why even now after doing triple handstands and cartwheels I still pause at the end to look in their direction to see if they’ll clap.

O.K. Technically I’m not going to do handstands or cartwheels for anyone. I don’t think I can actually do those, but you get the point.

The thing is that for years, I’ve been hearing from my parents that I should get out of debt and buy a house.

I got out of debt last year — something that my father seems to keep forgetting because he keeps asking me how paying my debt off is coming. For me, paying off my debt was a really big deal because not only was it weighing on me financially and not only did it cause panic attacks but I felt the weight of my parents’ disappointment with each passing month that it wasn’t paid off. I felt shame. For me, paying it off was redemption. I thought as though paying it off would somehow be more satisfactory that it was. But when my father asked again last month during his visit how that debt was coming, I just felt like I was in a sinking boat.

Now the house-buying thing is something else. It’s something I’ve wanted too. I had gotten excited about it once before back in 2003 right before I lost my job. I had even gone looking at houses and had tried to get a realtor who had turned out not to really want to sell me a house because I never saw her face, kid you not. She actually never showed for any of our appointments. I even found a house I liked but I couldn’t afford to buy it at the time and then I lost my job and ended up moving to Maine, so everything works out, right?

Here’s the thing. I don’t see the point in going to all of those Parades of Homes and open houses unless you’re actually ready to buy a house. My parents have been pushing me for six months or so to start getting out and looking around at houses that are out there though I don’t have anything in savings because I just got back from a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the UK and I’m in the middle of a 1 year lease on my apartment. To me, it’s a waste of my time and gas, especially when gas prices are high. I kept trying to tell them that I have no patience for it because what if I see the house I want? I am not the type of person to just ignore that and hope it’s still around in the Spring when my lease is up and I have money in the bank. I’m just not.

You have to understand. My father agonizes over every decision. There’s no such thing as an impulse buy. Everything is researched to death. He went back and forth on the moving to New Mexico thing for years before they did it. In fact, they had bought property they were going to build on in Louisiana…but they had it for like five years and he couldn’t decide on the finalization of blueprints. Every time the final prints were made, he’d back off.

My father still has a laser printer he bought in the early 1990’s. It isn’t really compatible with either of the computers he has but he can’t make up his mind about a new printer so he’s making my mother suffer. He won’t let my mother upgrade anything on her laptop. She still has Win98. Two years ago, he still had Win95.

It’s not just because he’s cheap and wants the best deal though that’s part of it. It’s because he can’t make the decision.

Me? I know what I want most of the time where material things are involved. I may not always know the best ways to get them, but I know what I want. For big things, I generally give myself a little time to think things through, but I don’t like to agonize over the what-if-something-better-comes-along thoughts. There’s always that possiblity. You can’t help that. All you can do is make the best decision based on the information you have now.

In 1995, I wanted a green Jeep. My dad forced me to shop around. The whole process was torture. Months later, I bought one. Interestingly, in 2006, I still want and have my green Jeep.

Someone told me that there are some houses you walk in and you just know that’s the house. I know that this little red house is the house I want to live in and make my home. I can imagine myself there doing every day things — cooking, doing laundry, snuggling with my pets, playing piano, reading a book, starting a garden, getting ready for work, having friends over. I can picture where my belongings will go. I can’t imagine changing much of anything (except to add a second bathroom later). I think I can be happy there.

Mind you, I wasn’t ready to go house hunting last week, but my mother insisted that I go while she was here. I would never have seen the little red house but for her. Now I want it.

So, I talked to my parents, I talked to various people, I read up on buying a house in books and online. Mostly, I wanted to find out how to go about it. I wanted advice on the mechanics. I wanted to know the etiquette. I was sorely disappointed in the results of my research. No one seemed very helpful, especially my father. He was very evasive on the subject. He kept telling me that he couldn’t tell me specifically what to do or say. His suggestion though was of course to spend the next three weekends looking at two houses in the area each day so I got a better idea about what the houses in the area where like.

O.K. I get the whole idea about knowing what houses are selling for in the area and being able to comparison shop. However, in this day and age of the internet, it’s not hard to do that from the comfort of your living room. And I did. It’s quite clear to me that comparable houses are not selling for less than $215K, which in the end is what we agreed on, btw. (Sorry, did I give part of the story away?)

What I really wanted to know from my father is how he would handle the negotiation. What things he would ask for in the purchase agreement, etc. He never would tell me.

Friday night, I went into the negotiation for the little red house completely unprepped for the event. It’s not the same as bartering in Mexico for crystal turtles or handmade blankets — both of which I’m excellent at getting cheap. The fact is that those “How to Buy a House” books don’t really tell you what you need to know. My advice is to get a realtor. I think they’re probably worth it if they actually want to sell you a house. The fact that I’d been burned in New Orleans by that one realtor and the fact that these folks are selling without a realtor meant none of us wanted to deal with one, but probably I could have used one on Friday night. Though possibly the flippers and I might not be on as friendly terms now.

Anyway, I put down a deposit of $1K and signed a purchase agreement of $215K contingent on a building inspection and the seller putting in a garbage disposal as well as fixing a few odds and ends I noted. I was very excited though it was more than I originally offered.

My father quickly put a damper on it when I called my parents full of enthusiasm. His first response was that it wasn’t that much lower than the asking price. (Only $3K less.) Then he was upset that I hadn’t asked for things like a termite inspection. Well, gosh, I didn’t know I should ask for one. I wasn’t aware that there was a termite problem in Maine. It pissed me off too because I asked for his advice about what I should ask for and talk about at the negotiation and he didn’t have anything to say beforehand but he was sure all disappointed in how I handled it after.

Then of course, there was no cheer about the closing date, tentatively set for Nov. 27th. No cheer about hiring moving men — I don’t know how he thinks I’m getting my furniture over there. No cheer about breaking my lease. Then all of a sudden he had to get off the phone because the evening paper was arriving.

My mom just kind of went along with him. Oh they said, “Congradulations,” but I just didn’t get the satisfaction I was hoping for.

I haven’t slept well since Friday night and yet I slept all day Saturday. A bout of depression. I told my mother yesterday that it’s hard to be excited when no one else is. She at least sounded a little more excited yesterday.

I should be happy. I’m getting the house of my dreams. I’ve paid off all my other debt.

So, why do I feel like I’ve done it all wrong?

tags: little red house, depression, parental approval, dysfunctional family

One comment

1. on October 31, 2006 at 3:37 pm

   Karla said:

   oh, hon, I know where you are coming from. I think we are all always looking for external praise and pats on the back.

   I’m 35 too, and I’ve beat this dead horse over and over again, knowing that the results will still be the same.

   Some have to be negative and fearful of every decision. And then like to pass that around to everyone else.

   I’m excited for you, and heck, I don’t even know you!!

   Blessings,
   Karla

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