If you don’t want to be happy, warning: This essay is not for you.
Eight years ago, I was dead broke. I’d lost everything but my clothes and furniture to real estate investments and a brokerage that went belly-up after a 100-year hurricane washed it all away. No home, no car, no 401K, no money. I was a real estate agent, but with nothing in escrow, I was effectively unemployed. I had no resources, no apparent possibilities, and no way to pay the rent that was due two weeks later. I was about to turn 53 and I’d been fighting this losing battle for two and a half years. I was plum tuckered out.
Then one day in one of my countless brainstorming sessions with myself, I realized there wasn’t anything there to keep me, and certainly nothing there to support me. So I moved. I sold stuff, gave away stuff, and moved a thousand miles away, found a job, rented a much smaller house, and began the journey back to “normal” (whatever that is). (more…)