I believe Bette Davis said the immortal words: “growing old ain’t for sissies.” Let me tell you as one who has grown old, whomever said it, they ain’t never lied! I’ll reach the never thought of in my youth age of 85 in a couple of months. When I started this Blog many years ago, I thought I would document my thoughts and events regarding the promises and regrets of aging. As I look back at my progress, I would grade myself an “F” for not posting my thoughts, realized and unrealized promises, and of course, my regrets. Since my post in 2020 life has been challenging to say the least. In September of 2020, I shared my thoughts as I sat looking out the window of that small room after being forced to move out of my lovely home into my eldest son’s and his family. The small room was my choice. I could have moved into one of the larger bedroom upstairs where the two couples slept; however, I chose the smaller room downstairs with a full bathroom next door. Upstairs, I would share the bathroom with my granddaughter and her husband. I thought I was being wise. I rationalized my intrusion into the night time of the two couples upstairs, the wiser choice was me remaining downstairs. Losing one’s home of over 30 years at the age of 77 was a devastating event. I did not know just how devastating it would become.

As I reflect of the years since the economic downturn of 2008, I made all the wrong decisions. With the unprovoked assistance of several entities of economic structure, I lost everything material: houses, possessions, a car, but most important, you lose your standing in the community at large as well as your family. And I believe, more important, you loose your status as the matriarch of your family. You now become the one who needs care and concern not the person that family members look up to. I had and still have difficulty in knowing that behind the eyes of my children and grandchildren, I am the one who has become a burden. When the bank, refuses to listen to your pleas for assistance, no matter your excellent record of on time payments or your high FICO score, they can choose your destiny. WTF chose mine. The shoulda/coulda thoughts still keep me awake some nights. I’m still carrying around the boxes of papers attesting to my attempts to remain the owner of my home. The slow loss of me as I was and the reshaping of me as I am now has been an amazing and sometimes humiliating transformation.

Let me explain what has happened to me, an almost 85 years old single female who regrets so many things. I’m sure my blackness may be associated with the issues I have faced, however; that is a small but not unimportant part of my challenges. I believe the major issue was my age and being single when faced with decisions that are life changing. Why didn’t I file for bankruptcy? Our current president filed five times I’m told. From childhood, I have been drilled (in my mind) of the importance of paying your bills and on time. Why didn’t I sell my home, before the foreclosure? I didn’t know that was an option. Besides I thought it could never happen to me. I was in the process of keeping my home through the Keep Your Home California program that California offered. I was approved for one, maybe two loans in that program. I was sure that I would win. When Wells Fargo refused to accept the Keep Your Home funds and transferred my loan to another lender, the dye was cast. In 2017 my home that I had bought in the 1960’s and had worked on: remodeling the Jack and Jill bathroom upstairs into two separate bathrooms, updated the kitchen, a new roof and fencing as well as new carpets, flooring and added the walk in closet in my bedroom and adding air conditioning and wall insulation to name a few projects over the years. My home was sold, against my will, to someone else. Oh, I hired a “lawyer” to help me file a suit for “Wrongful Foreclosure”, another wrong choice decision. After a year of monthly payments to him, who suckered me in with his “I left Haiti recently after trying to help the poor Haitian people, to help with people here in the states being hurt wrongfully by such banks as WTF…I hate WTF, they are a horrible entity, who cheat their borrowers”. I was hooked until that last video meeting. I sat in his firm’s office with his assistant while we communicated with him by video as he drank from a cup and arrogantly told me “banks can do whatever they want”. His assistant cried as I sat stunned.

It has become too painful to go on with this post. I’ll continue with part 2 soon. I’m in my apartment in a city near my youngest son. I’m adjusting to a new life at almost 85. I’m healthy and I still like to dance. I’m also looking into posting videos of me discussing my thoughts, for those interested. I’m old, but still kicking, remembering and dancing!