I’ve been living in apartments for almost ten years now, since 2005. We’re not talking luxury apartments either. Cheap apartments in cheap towns. With roommates. I’ve never been able to afford one on my own. I’ve wanted my own house since forever. But houses are expensive. Apartments are cheap. I also don’t have to fix things. But when you are married and you want a family and space to put them in, apartments don’t work well.

We put an offer on a house. It’s a nice place close to here. Lots of space. Big rooms. Brand new things and remodeled. Yet still affordable. Or affordable as long as we work for it. It seemed too good to be true. I’m pretty intuitive about things, making gut calls, but I couldn’t find anything wrong, couldn’t talk myself out of it. I thought maybe things were moving too fast, that I should slow down. What if there are other houses? Why now? Why not later? Does this even matter?

I don’t think I was scarred so much as I was worried it would all come tumbling down somehow. I am not used to being allowed success in life. As soon as I get something good, something bad happens. That’s always been my fear so to speak. I know that seems silly or unreasonable, but the reason I am the kind of person I am, introverted, inward, and self-deprecating. I have to analyze, dissect, reconstruct, and perfect things I do because I always feel like I am being judged. I’m not used to people paying attention to me when I am doing things right, only when I am doing things wrong. So I do things how I think they should be done to get the job done as quickly and efficiently as possible. But I’ve never bought a home before, nor put any work into one. I lack control, and when I lack control, I lose my shit. That’s my kryptonite.

But I am also rational and reasonable. I know I have other people helping with this process. I know I won’t be taken advantage of. But this is a large step. One of the biggest of my life. I cannot fuck this up. I have to throw caution to the wind because fucking this up means I will be stuck in apartments, or worse, forever.

I compartmentalize a lot of feelings and emotions, because I am a guy. Guys aren’t supposed to have emotions. No one wants to deal with my shit. But it makes going through this with my wife harder, because I want to articulate how I feel about this without making it sound like I just don’t want to do this or that we shouldn’t buy a house. She jumps to conclusions often, and it’s difficult to make words when someone else makes up your mind for you for themselves. I have to write all of this to allow myself the time to think and construct thoughts onto a medium others can interpret when words fail me.

I am excited to be going in on this house, to move forward with life, and to do new things. But I think it is important to never forget where we come from, the experiences we’ve had, and the wisdom we’ve accrued. Because anything worth doing, is worth doing well.