January 31, 2010
I stopped paying my $1,450-a-month mortgage on my 200-year-old, four-bedroom home in September 2008 -- after making the hard decision to walk away from my mortgage because it is hopelessly underwater.
It is not an easy decision to walk away from your home, and in the beginning I actually felt like a loser. That was the hardest part.
You see, I was raised to live up to my financial responsibilities. I was taught plenty about personal responsibility. But in this case I had no practical solutions to my financial dilemma -- I lost my job, was turned down for a mortgage modification and owed a lot more than the house is worth.
I am a single parent with three children, one with medical issues. So, with only unemployment benefits and child-support money, I decided to pull the plug on my mortgage payments.
Thus ended my financial commitment to the place we've called home for seven years. But I have no regrets. It wasn't the American Dream -- I moved here after my divorce.
This house originally cost $100,000. In 2005, as the housing market heated up and I needed cash, I refinanced it. An appraiser said it was worth $154,000 -- which I thought was too high but nonetheless accepted. I cashed out the house at that value.
Today, with the housing market in bad shape, the house is worth about $120,000. On top of that, it is starting to fall apart. Several thousand dollars worth of repairs here; a thousand dollars there -- it all adds up. At 51, I am in no condition to do the repairs myself, with a bad leg and a touch of arthritis. Why would I invest my money, anyway, on a declining asset I never intend to own?
The main toilet is broken upstairs; the roof is leaking into the kitchen ceiling, the ceiling is falling down. The floor in the back room is coming apart.
I used the money I accumulated from not paying the mortgage to pay off all my credit-card debt and clean up all my other debt -- except for the house.
The lenders flat out refused to modify the loan, and now I am too far behind to catch up. I am sure my credit score is affected. But I hope the credit agencies will take my special circumstances into account and give me a break.
Sometimes, sitting in the living room in the still of night, it breaks my heart, thinking about what could have been. This place offered a pretty good home to the kids, and it still looks kind of nice. But the kids' stuff is packed away neatly ready to be taken away. We want to move into a two-bedroom apartment in the area.
I feel no shame. I am not suicidal. When I think of what really counts, I do not think of money; I think about the health of my children. Besides I am not the only one.
Not too many people around my neighborhood are aware of my predicament, at least not until now. There are no foreclosure signs up -- because there is no bank forcing it. I am getting advice from a company that specializes in my situation, a situation shared by a growing number of folks just like me. It's called -- get this -- You Walk Away.
I am single and dating again. How do you tell people, "I am going to walk away from this house?" Some did react strangely when I first said that -- but others are supportive.
Whatever the case, I am ready to go. I hope to be out of here by the summer. I want to get this over with.
I stopped paying my $1,450-a-month mortgage on my 200-year-old, four-bedroom home in September 2008 -- after making the hard decision to walk away from my mortgage because it is hopelessly underwater.
It is not an easy decision to walk away from your home, and in the beginning I actually felt like a loser. That was the hardest part.
You see, I was raised to live up to my financial responsibilities. I was taught plenty about personal responsibility. But in this case I had no practical solutions to my financial dilemma -- I lost my job, was turned down for a mortgage modification and owed a lot more than the house is worth.
I am a single parent with three children, one with medical issues. So, with only unemployment benefits and child-support money, I decided to pull the plug on my mortgage payments.
Thus ended my financial commitment to the place we've called home for seven years. But I have no regrets. It wasn't the American Dream -- I moved here after my divorce.
This house originally cost $100,000. In 2005, as the housing market heated up and I needed cash, I refinanced it. An appraiser said it was worth $154,000 -- which I thought was too high but nonetheless accepted. I cashed out the house at that value.
Today, with the housing market in bad shape, the house is worth about $120,000. On top of that, it is starting to fall apart. Several thousand dollars worth of repairs here; a thousand dollars there -- it all adds up. At 51, I am in no condition to do the repairs myself, with a bad leg and a touch of arthritis. Why would I invest my money, anyway, on a declining asset I never intend to own?
The main toilet is broken upstairs; the roof is leaking into the kitchen ceiling, the ceiling is falling down. The floor in the back room is coming apart.
I used the money I accumulated from not paying the mortgage to pay off all my credit-card debt and clean up all my other debt -- except for the house.
The lenders flat out refused to modify the loan, and now I am too far behind to catch up. I am sure my credit score is affected. But I hope the credit agencies will take my special circumstances into account and give me a break.
Sometimes, sitting in the living room in the still of night, it breaks my heart, thinking about what could have been. This place offered a pretty good home to the kids, and it still looks kind of nice. But the kids' stuff is packed away neatly ready to be taken away. We want to move into a two-bedroom apartment in the area.
I feel no shame. I am not suicidal. When I think of what really counts, I do not think of money; I think about the health of my children. Besides I am not the only one.
Not too many people around my neighborhood are aware of my predicament, at least not until now. There are no foreclosure signs up -- because there is no bank forcing it. I am getting advice from a company that specializes in my situation, a situation shared by a growing number of folks just like me. It's called -- get this -- You Walk Away.
I am single and dating again. How do you tell people, "I am going to walk away from this house?" Some did react strangely when I first said that -- but others are supportive.
Whatever the case, I am ready to go. I hope to be out of here by the summer. I want to get this over with.
Comment