The re-birth of LITTOF

This doesn't have to be awkward.
I know it's been a while, but I'm still me and you're still you.
Let's talk as though no time has passed. It can be that way, right?
That's the testament of a true friendship. Time goes by but it feels like only yesterday.

So, yes. I'm back.

I know what you're thinking.

Why? Why now? You said you were done with this blog.

True. I did say that. But...

A girl can change her mind, right?

Here's the thing. All this time has given me something. Perspective. And two things happened last week that brought my new perspective into focus.

1. The numbers came out. 2010 was the biggest year for foreclosures. 1 million American homes were repossessed in 2010.

2. A friend who is finding it hard to hold onto their home reached out to me for advice and inspiration.

As I was writing my friend a long message providing what I hoped would be inspiration, it hit me. Just because our foreclosure story is now almost two years behind us doesn't mean that I can't still make a difference for others who are in foreclosure or teetering on the precipice today.

I said that I began this blog to make a difference by sharing our story. And I was passionately committed to that. The truth is, that commitment never ended. I'm still passionate about making a difference for people in financial distress.

Having come through to the other side has me even more passionate about that.

I know I said I didn't want our lives to be defined by foreclosure and that's part of the reason I "retired" LITTOF. But I see now that who we are today is so clearly defined by who we chose to be in the face of foreclosure. I think what I needed was just a long break. To just live. To have a baby and start a new blog and enjoy our new life on an island and gain some distance from the F-word.

I just really want to make a difference!
While responding to my friend in distress, I thought about the millions and millions of Americans in the same situation. I thought about the LITTOF readers that still sometimes e-mail me and ask for advice. And I just kept thinking about how I want to help. Somehow.

I know how easy it is to give into the despair. And I also know how important it is to rise above it. I don't have answers, but I do have a survivor's tale filled with inspiration. And by sharing that, by continuing to share that, I hope to spread some much needed hope.

Blogging with purpose
After retiring LITTOF, I started my new blog, Two Years on an Island. On that blog I wrote about life on a rural and very special island. Being pregnant. Giving birth. Mowing the lawn while seven months pregnant. That was a fun blog to write but ran its course when we moved from the island at the end of August.

Since then I've fiddled with the idea of starting another blog. Just to have a blog. But I don't want to blog just to blog. As a new mom who is still trying to be a playwright and non-fiction writer, I do not have that kind of time. If I'm going to blog, it must be with purpose.

So last week after getting the reality of the increasing scope of the foreclosure crisis and hearing how it's impacting someone I know, I finally got it.

If foreclosure insists on persisting, then I insist on loving. Or something like that.

Bottom line is, I'm not done yet.

All you need is love
This, in American history, is still the time of foreclosure and love is exactly what we need.

The title of this blog came from our personal story. How we managed to be more in love than ever before in the face of foreclosure. How our marriage benefited by how we approached our financial crisis.

But now I see the title as something beyond that. Actually, Bob helped me see it that way. When I told him that I was going to start blogging again at LITTOF and why, he totally got it. And he said:

"Now you can give love to others in foreclosure."

So that's what this is about. Putting love out there in the world via a little blog. Blog post by blog post, that is my intention.

As I said, I don't have answers.

I have only our experience.

And our commitment: to rise above our financial distress. And love above all else. Love as an action. As a commitment. As a way of being.

One last note. The tag line of this blog still applies.

"TWO PEOPLE DEEP IN DEBT, WORKING OUR WAY OUT AND HAPPIER THAN WE EVER HAVE BEEN."

Yes, we are still deep in debt.

Yes, we declared bankruptcy. But the "Big B" doesn't wipe out IRS debts or student loans.

So I will be sharing about that. About what we're doing to get out of debt. I'll share about parenthood through this lens. I will write about our experience in our third home in less than two years. And pretty much whatever else is on my mind. If you've been a follower of this blog, then you know what to expect.

What do I expect from you? Nothing. No expectations.

What would I like? Well, for you to share. Write to me. Ask me your questions, share your stories. Share this blog with someone who is facing foreclosure or worried about ending up there one day. I need your help to spread the love.

You can write me here: loveinthetimeofforeclosure@gmail.com

What do I intend? To make a difference. To provide a little inspiration. A little light in the darkness. Maybe even some humor. But most of all I want to get you to believe that it is possible to be happy, in fact happier than ever, even in the face of foreclosure.

Love,

Steph

The Face of Foreclosure- Part 1

"The Fit"

It's Memorial Day and I'm at a BBQ sitting at a table outside next to a couple of friends picking the meat off the delicious smoked ribs, trying not to think or talk about any of this. This. You know. The house, foreclosure, where we'll go, when we're leaving, what's happening, etc. I'm in no mood to talk about it. No mood at all. Why? Because I've traveled to the dark side.

It happened Sunday night.

Actually, it probably began the day we got the notice of sale. I was slowly heading towards that place. I just didn't know it. People ask how I am and I say, fine. Because, well, I'm breathing. I'm surrounded by love and support. And it's only a house. I know this intellectually. What I experienced Sunday night defies logic. But it points to the deep, emotional impact of losing one's home. We are not immune.

What happened Sunday night?

It started with me 'leaking' in public. At a bar. Tears pushing their way out of my eyes and me trying to wipe them away before anyone noticed. Unsuccessful.

I don't feel normal anymore. I feel scared. And the last few days it has been extremely difficult to be hopeful. The bright side has darkened. How dark, I didn't know until later. Until at home I...

...well, until I flipped. I just lost it. My fear and anger welling up inside of me, emerged and took me over like an alien. "We're losing our house and I'm terrified!" I screamed. I got hysterical. I screamed more, I cried, I wanted to smash things (but didn't), I hyperventilated- unable to breathe at all. I choked for air. Bob was telling me to just breathe. But I couldn't. I couldn't breathe.

Is this an anxiety attack? What the hell is this?!

I was scaring myself. My body felt all twisted up, like something had possessed it and I was fighting to be rid of it. This foreign thing. This darkness. My body wasn't mine. I had lost all control. And then it happened. I, well, there's no delicate way to put this... I puked. On the hard wood floor. In the middle of desperately trying to breathe, I threw up. It felt like an exorcism. Out. Get out. Leave me be.

We'll pause here for a brief intermission:

Now- I debated whether to write about this. I just have to interject that here because it felt too real. Too scary. Mom, please don't worry.... but I know you will anyway. It's embarrassing. But, it's part of this. I don't want this blog to be only about the ugliness of our situation... which is why I hesitated in sharing this part. But I am because we're committed to the transparency. And there is a happy ending. So keep reading.

"Oh my God, I just threw up! Holy shit! What the hell is happening to me?!"

Bob, the saint, is cleaning it up. Telling me to just calm down. He's handing me a towel. I'm trying to take back control over my body. Slow. Breathe. Don't freak out.

I'm just so angry.

"At who?" asks Bob.

"At me. At myself!"

"Why?"

"For not saving us. I thought I could."

"I know. It's okay. It's just a house," Bob comforts. He's right. Of course. I know this. I know it's just a house. This isn't about logic, I tell him. I don't know what this is.

I tell him that I want to smash things. That I want a huge earthquake to swallow up the house and take everything with it. I want to just get in the car and drive away. Drive away and leave everything behind. Or smash. Back to that. Back to smashing.

I don't know where this is coming from, but for the first time I understand why people in foreclosure destroy their homes. The ones that do.

1. It's a way to let go of some of the anger and rage. It's a release. Why not? There's literally nothing left to lose.

2. If you destroy the house, it's no longer your dream. It's damaged. It's easier to walk away from a damaged house than a perfect home.

3. ? I don't think there is a number 3.

And 1. doesn't apply to us anyway. We do still have something left to lose. We want to leave our house in the caring hands of new owners through this short sale. We are committed to walking away whole and complete. Not broken. Regretting.

Also, we have logic. And love.

-Love held my hair while I expelled my rage onto our hallway floor. (gross, I know. sorry.)

-Love cleaned it up. (again, sorry.)

-Love looked at me and said, "I'm scared because I've never seen you this physically upset before... but I can understand how you feel. And it's okay."

-Love got me water and Tylenol and put me to bed.

-Love sat and watched movies with me for most of Memorial day and said it's okay to rest.

-Love and logic said destroying the house will only send you down a path you don't want to travel and one that isn't you. Don't succumb.

-Love held me while we slept.

I thank my husband greatly for his love. Thank you, Bob. So much.

Monday morning I woke up to an e-mail from my dad that read in part:

"...just focus on the good news and your strengths...you have to deal with the bad news----but try to deal with it only the amount of time required, do not let it possess you or monopolize your time."

How perfect. It was as though he had somehow witnessed my fit the night before. Because that's exactly what I did. I let the bad news 'possess me.' And it wasn't pretty. Thanks, Dad. And don't worry. I won't allow it to possess me again.

What to do? Rest. Regroup. Watch movies. Comedies. Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story followed by Kung Fu Panda

"There is just news. There is no good or bad."

- Master Oogway to Master Shifu in KUNG FU PANDA written by Jonathan Aibel & Glenn Berger

Again, how perfect. Bob looked at me when this line was delivered by Master Oogway turtle with the long nails. He looked at me, like, yes. It's true. There's just news. And that's how we get through this. It's not bad. It's not good. It just is.

(to be continued in Part 2... "The Inquisition")