When you rent a house or apartment in a place like the San Francisco Bay area and don’t have rent control protection, there’s an ever present tension. At any point your quality of life or your actual roof can be taken by a beast-like market that doesn’t seem to have any point of saturation.
My husband Michael was born in the SF Bay area, and I moved here almost thirty years ago. We had both been through divorces where we didn’t come out with house equity and where we went through years of underemployment that always put us out of reach for owning a home, moreso the last eight or nine years. Once I solidified a full-time tenure track position, Michael’s employer scaled back his work to the point it became smarter for him to stay home full time with our toddler Lazlo and older son Harrison, who requires full time care.
The monster tension grew to a fever pitch four years ago when our landlord (and it does feel like a feudal system) decided our home needed to be closer to the market rate and increased the rent by $450 a month with one month’s notice. We went from being ideal tenants who fixed everything ourselves and replaced our own washing machine so not to bother our landlords, to contacting them about everything and sending receipts for every item we purchased and deducted from the rent. We basically went into more debt and scarcity living for 9 months until I could get enough of a raise and side duties at work to cover the difference.
During COVID, we finally removed the financial Sisyphean burden. Without major gas bills or wear and tear on our car, without any entertainment to be had for the kids or us, and without any friends or family to visit–our financial gains increased, which meant our debt started to decrease. We were feeling good. I was doing a happy dance the first of every month watching the credit card and student loan debt dwindle.
Then on December 18 the doorbell rang.
I was grading a slew of final essays and Michael was cooking dinner and tending to the kids endless requests. I figured it was a neighbor or worn out candy sales kid trying to earn points for a Christmas school drive. Nope. It was our property manager, who in 8+ years has only been to the house three times.
Amidst all of Monica’s barking, I couldn’t hear much. I only could make out: “They have to sell. They wanted to give you a little more time… the holiday.” A few seconds later, Michael entered our room on a big exhale.
“So, looks like we are moving by the end of February. Merry Christmas to us.” He said incredulously, “Maybe we should just go to Costa Rica now instead of waiting for retirement.”
Through a mix of early trauma, mindfulness practices, and Virgo wiring, I’m inherently sedate on the precipice of major life change or loss. I nodded, exhaled, and went back to my students’ papers. Michael dove back into the kids’ evening routine. I noticed my breath and the only option that immediately felt like the right step was indeed, Costa Rica.
My rational brain took over and did some calculations regarding rents, first and last month’s/deposit. Like most adults in this situation, I did a search on CL entering the amount we could afford and kept it at two bedrooms for the four of us. The only hits were in the outskirts of Santa Rosa and West Sacramento, both of which would be out of commuting reach for my work. We even removed the pet option, even though our pets are a huge part of our lives. Nada.
Months before my 50th birthday, I had paid for a women’s retreat (yoga, surf, and writing) in Santa Teresa Costa Rica. With COVID it was postponed until April 2021. The flights to Costa Rica are surprisingly affordable. Michael and I had been looking at places in the area to rent for a week if he brought the boys to come down. Then I convinced a few girlfriends to come to the retreat with me and found a house to share and rent for the whole group to save money and spread the fun. The next morning, I woke, not to the terror or dread of having to move, but with a thought. We should just email on VRBO the owner of the house we were going to rent and tell him about our situation. All he could say is, no.
Not only did he respond, he sent us his address in the US…. actually the Bay Area so we could come by and meet he and his wife. What?
So, this unexpected loss, what most would consider a huge stressor, became a lit path on an adventure. At moments scary? Yes. At moments overwhelming? Yes. But we are moving forward with a 100% knowing this is meant for us and to be getting out from under that tension is my friends, the most peacefully alive place to be.
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