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My 2019 year in review

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On a cold first of December 2000, my car was totalled during morning rush hour. I was cruising along in the slow lane — I drive like an old man — when a tractor-trailer rig changed lanes into my Geo Storm. According to the guy behind me, the car spun around twice (although that seems unlikely) before slamming into a guardrail and coming to a stop.

The entire accident probably took all of five seconds but it seemed more like five minutes in subjective time. From the moment I felt the first jolt, my mind entered a state of hyper awareness. I could see everything happening around me — the truck looming to my left, the airbag deploying, the chaos as the car whirled about, the traffic in other lanes — but I was powerless to do anything about it.

When my vehicle came to a stop, witnesses pulled over and rushed to see if I was okay. I was stunned, but I was fine.

Over the next couple of hours — and then days — I went about picking up the pieces. The accident itself had been chaos, as I said, and it left a bit of a mess to clean up afterward. I had to have the car towed. The insurance company had to evaluate it. They had to issue me a check. I had to buy a new car. And so on.

Five seconds of chaos, five weeks of picking up the pieces, and then life settled into a new normal.

The left side of my Geo Storm (after accident)

My 2019 felt much the same, my friends. I'm not trying to be overdramatic (or to catastrophize), but for a lot of the past twelve months, I've felt as if I'm stuck in a spinning car, clearly able to see what's happening but powerless to stop it.

This is, of course, a product of my anxiety and depression. Objectively, my life is fine. Great, even. Subjectively, everything's been spinning and the airbag has deployed. I know this is all in my head, but that doesn't make it any better.

That's the bad news.

The good news is that I believe — hope, maybe? — that the wreck has come to a halt. The car that is my life has stopped spinning. Over the past month, I've been “assessing the damage”. Things are messy, sure, but they're not as bad as they might have been. Now, I've slowly begun to pick up the pieces, to work toward a new normal.

Fortunately, nothing's totalled. It's a mess, but there's nothing that cannot be repaired. [Read more…]

Spare change: Awesome articles from elsewhere

Here's yet another reason to despise U.S. Bank (I pulled my business from them years ago)

Ten-year time-lapse of U.S. weather [two hours long and nothing to do with money]

Good enough is often great

What should we teach our kids about money?

Taking early Social Security can cost you big

Marketers do not want you to be content

Should you have a financial planner?

The power laws of personal finance

Eight reasons people think they can beat the stock market

We are hard-wired to worry (and what to do to calm down)

Find an archive of all past spare change links on Pinboard.

Our first annual family meeting

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Yesterday, to celebrate Thanksgiving, Kim and I instituted what we hope will become an annual tradition. Yesterday, we held our first annual family meeting.

Kim approached me with the idea last week. “I think it'd be nice to sit down and talk about our goals,” she said.

“I agree,” I said. I was thinking of the article Matthias shared here in August. Matt and his wife create five-year plans to co-ordinate their shared future. They spend a day drafting couple goals to build their dream life. I've been thinking that Kim and I should do something similar.

So, yesterday morning over coffee, we sat down for our a family meeting. We talked about the current state of our household — and we talked about where we'd like to steer things in years to come.

J.D.'s Rocky Year

“It's been a rocky year for me,” I said, although Kim already knew this. “I've been fighting anxiety and depression since March. I've had a few patches of amazing productivity and good self-worth, but I've spent a lot of my time trying to keep from drowning. Metaphorically.”

“That's true,” Kim said, “but you're making good changes. You're exercising. You're drinking less. You're seeing friends more often. You've stopped wasting time on videogames. And you have your big project coming up.”

“Right,” I said. I've been recruited by Audible and The Great Courses to create a ten-part (five-hour) series on financial independence and early retirement. “That work is going to take most of this winter. The first five lectures are due at the end of January. The rest of the course is due at the end of March. I'll fly to D.C. in early May to record the audio.”

“Will the project pay enough to fund your lifestyle?” Kim asked.

“Sort of,” I said. “It's four months of work, and it'll probably end up funding about four months of expenses. That's not bad, but it's not great either. But I'm not really doing it for the money, you know.”

“How are your finances?” Kim asked. Believe it or not, in our nearly eight years together, we've only talked about money in-depth a couple of times. We trust each other, so we haven't felt the need.

“Things aren't as good as they were three years ago,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Notes for family meeting

“Well, when we returned from the RV trip in June 2016, I felt completely at ease financially. I had enough saved that I never felt like I had to work again. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted.”

“That's not true anymore?”

“Not really,” I said. “You know I'm not squandering my money, obviously, but let's look at the numbers. Over the past three years, I've spent $400,000 on a bunch of big stuff: buying back Get Rich Slowly, remodeling this house, those investments in other businesses. I'm not blowing the money on gambling and hookers. These are all financial decisions that made sense in the moment, but which have left me feeling pinched.”

“Are you running out of money?” Kim asked.

“No, not really,” I said. “I just don't have as much as I want. Look. I'll show you the numbers.” [Read more…]

Five short anecdotes about money

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What a long, strange couple of months it's been for me. On the blog, things have been quiet. Behind the scenes, I've been as busy as I've ever been.

The good news is that this busy-ness will (eventually) lead to a number of interesting articles. I've been reading Cal Newport's Deep Work, for instance, and have some thoughts on it. I've been thinking about the concept of “no speed limits”. Shocking but true: I'm going to write an article about my primary credit card. And I've been reading and writing a lot about “doing nothing”.

Today, though, I want to clear my head (and my inbox) by sharing five short financial anecdotes.

In the past month, I've had probably twenty deep discussions about personal finance and personal values. While some of these conversations lead to bigger things (like the three articles I mentioned above), most don't. But they still produce intertesting concepts and ideas. They sometimes lead me to make changes.

Here are a five money-related topics that don't (yet) warrant articles of their own, but which I still find interesting (and worth sharing).

Going With Google

During my ten days in Portugal for the FI chautauqua, cell phone service was a common topic of conversation. Some folks didn't have any. Others were paying a small fortune just to get a tiny bit of data from their provider.

There were two types of people who didn't have any trouble with their cell service in Portugal: those who use T-Mobile and those who use Google FI.

“What's Google FI?” I asked. I'd never heard of it.

“It's Google's cell service,” Owen said. “It's cheap and has lots of features, but you can't use it with Apple phones.”

“Actually, you can,” Bill said.

“But the website says it doesn't work with iPhones,” said Owen.

“The website is wrong,” said Bill. “I've been using it with my iPhone for months with no problems — even here in Portugal.” He showed us his phone and explained how much he liked Google FI.

“I'll look into,” I said. And I did. Here's what I learned:

  • Kim and I currently spend $117 (plus taxes and fees) for our shared T-Mobile plan. This gives us a limited amount of high-speed data (although plenty for normal needs), plus service for my Apple Watch. (When the watch dies, I don't plan to replace it, so eventually that'll save us ten bucks per month.)
  • If we were to move to Google FI, it'd cost us $120 per month (plus taxes and fees). That's roughly the same price, obviously, with no real advantages. (We'd have access to more high-speed data, although we rarely need that. Plus, we'd get Google One, whatever that is.) And it doesn't include service for my watch.

My conclusion? For T-Mobile customers like us, moving to Google FI doesn't make much sense. But I suspect many people ought to consider their service.

Meanwhile, we've been struggling with our wireless network here at home. Although Apple no longer makes wireless networking equipment, our network is built with routers from when they did sell the stuff. Some of these routers are now a decade old (or possibly older). We have four of them.

For whatever reason, our network is constantly going down. It's frustrating. It's quite common that three of the routers will be up while a fourth will arbitrarily decide to stop working for a few days. (And when we changed the network name last spring? Nightmare!)

While visiting MMM HQ last weekend, I noticed that Pete uses the Google Mesh system to provide service in his co-working space. “Do you like it?” I asked. “I've heard other people rave about Google Mesh, but I don't know anything about it.”

“It's awesome,” he said. “Totally trouble-free.” So, I've ordered a starter set of Google Mesh devices. They'll arrive tomorrow. I have high hopes that this will cure our wifi headaches.

Taming the Email Beast

After returning from my nineteen-day trip to Portugal, Wisconsin, and southern California, my email inboxes were swamped. (I have five separate gmail accounts. Crazy, right?)

Naturally, I complained about the situation on Facebook. My friend Charlotte sent me a private message: “Do you have time to hop on a video call?” she asked. “I'll show you a way to tame your email.”

Charlotte spent twenty minutes walking me through an email system she recently adopted. It effectively divides your gmail inbox — and yes, you have to be using gmail — into five different inboxes, each of which is themed. Once a day, you tackle your main inbox, routing messages to sub-inboxes. Then, when you have time, you work through the other inboxes.

This is a minor change to the way I do things (and admittedly it mostly delays messages to later), but it's effective.

I send myself email twenty times each week. It's my note-taking system. It's how I offload things from my brain. This is great…except that my inboxes tend to get flooded with book recommendations, article ideas, and reminders of upcoming events. It's a mess. Using this system, I can still send myself messages, but I'm now able to flag these messages so they're routed to the appropriate sub-inbox.

I've been following Charlotte's advice for two weeks now, and I like it. It hasn't solved my email woe, but it's mitigated the problem substantially.

My inbox

Dozens of Credit Cards

Last weekend, Kim and I flew to Colorado to celebrate the birthday of a certain mustachioed friend. While there, I had several memorable conversations.

For instance, I chatted with Amy from Go With Less about how she and her husband play the credit-card game. They have an insane number of cards — 34? 43? I can't remember the exact count — and over three million credit-card points.

While our conversation touched on topics like manufactured spending (a concept that blows my mind and angers card issuers), I was more interested in how and why Tim and Amy juggle dozens of credit cards. Doesn't this hurt their credit score? Turns out: No. Because they pay bills on time and never cancel cards, they have nearly perfect credit.

Here's a video in which they address this topic:

I wanted to ask Tim and Amy more about their crazy credit-card fueled lifestyle, but I didn't have the chance. I look forward to picking their brains more in the future, though.

Health Shares for the Non-Religious

Last weekend, I also had a conversation with Ben, who famously gets his cars for free. Ben is super smart and doesn't accept the status quo. He's always looking for ways to challenge the system in order to make the most of his money.

Lately, he's been doing this with healthcare.

For many people who have retired early, health insurance is thorny issue. It's expensive. Take my case, for example. I pay $403 per month for shitty coverage. This year, I've met my $7900 out-of-pocket max, which means I'll have spent $12,736 (plus co-pays and prescriptions) when the dust settles. I hate the U.S. healthcare system. It's insane.

Well, Ben too thinks it's insane. Rather than complain about it, though, he's been seeking creating solutions.

“Have you looked at health-sharing ministries?” Ben asked me on Sunday morning. “They can be a great way to cut costs.”

“I have,” I said. “But they all require a statement of faith, which I'm not able to give.”

“I had the same problem,” Ben said, “so I searched for alternatives. I found Sedera. It's basically the same as a health-share ministry. You still have to agree to abide by certain principles, but they're not based on a religion.”

“Is it affordable?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I'm paying $200 per month per person for my wife, my daughter, and myself.”

“That's not bad,” I said.

“But here's the thing,” Ben said. “Sedera is designed to work with a direct primary care physician.”

“A what?” I said.

“A direct primary care physician is just what it sounds like. It's a doctor that you work with directly without a third-party intermediary. That means the doctor bills you directly, not an insurance company. When you combine this with a health-sharing program like Sedera, it's a cost-effective alternative to traditional insurance.”

“Kim and I have an appointment to talk with an insurance broker next week,” I said. “I'll have to look into this as an alternative.”

“Do it,” Ben said. “You won't regret it.”

Downgrading My Motorcycle

Lastly, here's a topic that comes from several different conversations and a lot of soul-searching on my part.

When Kim and I started dating, I was surprised to learn that she was a motorcycle enthusiast. After she bought her father's bike from him, I decided to learn to ride myself.

I started with a low-power Honda Rebel, which was perfect for my needs. Then, a couple of years ago, I made an impulse purchase: I upgraded to a Harley-Davidson Street 750. The new bike gave me the power to keep up with Kim on long trips. (The little Rebel was always falling behind on the highway.)

Turns out, though, that for day-to-day riding, I wish I had my Rebel. Kim and I don't make many long trips — about one per year. And when we do, I'm fine falling behind. I'd rather have a quick and easy bike for running errands or zipping downtown. My Street 750 is not the right bike for this. It takes a long time to gear up and get the Harley ready to go.

I've spent the past year trying to figure out my best move. I've talked with a lot of friends and considered several options. Do I just stick it out with the motorcycle I have? Do I buy a new Rebel? Do I do something else?

After much thought and contemplation, I've decided that my best plan for the motorcycle situation is three-fold:

  • Sell the Street 750. Use the proceeds to purchase two replacements.
  • Buy a (used?) scooter to use for errands and running downtown. Kim plans to sell her motorcycle, so long trips are no longer an issue. I want something quick and easy to ride. I want to be able to get on the bike and go.
  • Buy an electric bike for use around home. I already own a bike, but as I've mentioned before, I don't ride it. For one, I am fat. For another, we are surrounded by hills. MMM has urged me to look into Rad Power electric bikes.

Making this move — which likely won't happen until the spring, when people are looking for motorcycles — is much more aligned with my values and lifestyle. Currently, my motorcycle mostly gathers dust. I ride it maybe 1000 miles per year. I'd ride the scooter more often, and the electric bike would get me out slicing through these hills for exercise!

What about you? What financial conversations have you been having with your friends? What minor money moves are you making in your life?

How the toss of a coin determined my fate

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Hello! I have returned from my final big trip of the year, and I've resumed working behind the scenes here at Get Rich Slowly. Soon, new articles will begin to appear on this site.

Oh, wait. Here's a new article now!

On my most recent trip, I happened to tell the same story twice to two different groups. In doing so, I realized that it's a story I've never told here. That's unfortunate. It's about an event that had a profound impact on the course of my life — and my finances.

To bide the time while I work on longer articles, today I'd like to share how my fate was decided by the literal toss of a coin.

Going to College

My parents never pushed higher education on my brothers and me. Both my father and mother had attended church schools briefly — Goshen College for him, Brigham Young University for her — but neither one graduated. My uncle got a math degree from a local junior college, and my cousin Duane got a business degree from yet another church school.

Growing up, I can't remember that college was ever discussed in depth. It came up in conversation now and then, but there was never any expectation that my brothers and I would go.

But: I was a nerd. I hung out with other nerds. I read and I wrote. I entered math contests for fun. My favorite movies were about college and about college professors. I romanticized college life (and still do today).

Mitch and J.D. were (and are) nerds

Mitch and J.D., nerds in 1984, nerds in 2019

[Read more…]

The virtue of thrift

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My grandparents, Lola and NoahWhen I was a boy, we lived in the country. That is, we lived five miles from the nearest town (Canby) and 25 miles from the nearest city (Portland). We were surrounded by farmland. Life was quiet. Pastoral. Bucolic.

The road we lived on was especially quiet, with very little traffic. Even from a young age — five or six, I think — I was allowed to walk the quarter-mile to visit my grandparents. (My father's parents lived “next door” to us, but next door was across a large field.)

Visiting grandma and grandpa was fun. As quiet as life in the country was, life at their house was even quieter. There was a stillness in their place unlike anything I've experienced since. Their home seemed stuck in time.

Part of this stuckness stemmed from the things they owned.

They lived in a little white farmhouse built in 1920. My grandparents moved there in 1943 — two years before my father was born — then remodeled the place. Sort of. (Like all Roths, they left the job undone — for more than forty years!)

During the 1970s, when I was young, they still owned and used many of the things they'd purchased when they moved in.

  • They still had a big, white Kelvinator refrigerator, for instance, with a moving door handle and hardly any space inside. They called it the “icebox”.
  • They listened to hymns (sometimes) and radio sermons (daily) on an imposing wooden console “hi-fi” system as big as a couch.
  • They owned a long pink-ish, purple-ish “davenport” with scratchy, well-worn fabric on which grandpa would nap every afternoon after “dinner” (which was lunch).
  • They used a black bakelite rotary telephone on a party line.

My grandparents themselves were very much like the things they owned. They were old. (They were in their seventies when I knew them.) They were calm. They moved slowly during the day, and even more slowly at night. One of my fondest memories is sitting with them in the evening, watching as they sipped “sanka” and played Scrabble while a fire roared in the nearby woodstove.

For children, time always moves more slowly, but it seemed to me that nothing every changed in my grandparents' world. Their home was frozen in time. It was stuck. It was still. It was silent.

It was comforting, and I liked it. [Read more…]

A self-made man

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Dad at the LatheMy father died twenty-four years ago today.

As I drove to the airport this morning — I'm on a short trip to San Diego — my mind drifted back to him and what he was like.

I don't think of Dad often anymore, and when I do it's mostly superficial stuff: Dad was fat. His hair was wild and wavy. He could be gruff. He was funny and had a contagious laugh. Sometimes he wasn't a very nice guy. Sometimes he was. But it's tough to remember what Dad was like as a presence, you know?

What I remember most about him was how Dad could do anything he set his mind to. This isn't nostalgic hero worship. It's how he actually was. My father could teach himself to do anything he wanted. And he wanted to do a lot.

A Self-Made Man

I'm not sure where my father's love of learning and experimenting came from. His parents were a simple, devout Mennonite couple.

When I knew Grandma and Grandpa, they managed a small farm. They had milk cows. They raised blueberries. They grew and canned vegetables. Grandpa cut his own wood. He'd been a janitor at the local high school, but by the time I was around, he was retired. Every night, he and Grandma sipped Sanka and played Scrabble. Their existence was simple, ordered, and serene.

My father wasn't simple. His life wasn't ordered. He was not a serene man. He was complex. He was messy. He was boisterous. He was a force of nature. (I come by my ADD honestly.) He had many interests, and he liked to indulge them all. [Read more…]

Are phones a necessary evil?

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I hate phonesI hate phones.

I hate answering phones. I hate making phone calls. I especially hate doing business by phone. Maybe it's a part of my social anxiety, but I will go to great lengths to not use my phone. (The phone “app” doesn't even live on the homescreen of my phone!)

If I ever have a question for my bank, for instance, I will get in my car and drive to the bank before I'll pick up the phone.

Kim thinks I'm crazy. She's just the opposite. She loves the phone and prefers it to doing business in person. Every week, I listen as she makes two or three calls and uses her charm on customer service agents. I have no charm, and I hate the phone.

Let me give you a more detailed example of why I find phones frustrating.

As a non-phone guy, it makes me sad that some of my friends are very much phone people. If I text them, they phone me back. If I send them email, they phone me back. *sigh*

Welcome to Purgatory

Last autumn, before my trip to Europe, I inadvertently signed up for the Oregon Health Plan. I had been filling out online forms to research an article, and apparently one of the forms that said it was informational only was actually a real, genuine application.

When I returned from Europe, I found that I was enrolled in my state's low-income health plan. Oops.

“You need to call to correct this,” Kim said.

“I know,” I said, “but I hate the phone.”

“Do it anyhow,” she said. I dialed the customer service number. Then I sat on hold for 45 minutes before becoming so frustrated that I hung up and went on to other things. A week later, the same scene repeated itself. And the next week too.

After a third session of waiting on hold, I'd had enough.

“This is why I hate phones,” I said to Kim. “You wait on hold for an eternity. It's like you're in purgatory. When you finally get through, nobody knows the answer. I'm over this. I'm going to go find somebody who can help me.”

I drove twenty minutes to a government office, where a pleasant young woman listened to my story. “I can help,” she said. Ten minutes later, my problem was solved.

I texted Kim: “It took me less time to drive down here and get this solved than it did to wait on hold for nothing this morning.”

And I can almost guarantee you that if I had actually reached somebody on the phone, it wouldn't have been the right person. I would have been shuffled around — and left on hold — several times before somebody would have been able to help. That's how it always goes.

From my experience, it's almost always more effective to speak to somebody in person than it is to handle business by phone. If I have a question for a company or government agency, I do my best to stop by an actual office to ask it. I prefer the face to face contact. It's quicker and produces better results.

Sometimes, though, the phone is a necessary evil.

A Necessary Evil

This morning, I was doing my end-of-month finances. I noticed a charge this week from Avis Rent-a-Car. “That's strange,” I thought. “I haven't rented a car recently. Is this from my rental in France?”

I did a quick search of my transactions to find two recent charges from Avis:

Avis Charges

When I rented the car in France, I did so with Chase Ultimate Rewards points. No cash changed hands. When I returned the car, the man who checked me in told me everything was fine. No damage. I was under the impression that I didn't owe anything else.

That said, it's possible that I inadvertently broke some law or other while driving around Normandy, Brittany, and Paris. Maybe I used a toll road without knowing. Maybe I ran a red light that was photo enforced. Maybe Paris has congestion charges like London. Maybe I was speeding somewhere that I ought not have been speeding. I don't know.

I tried to follow all of the rules. Plus, I drive like an old man. But that doesn't mean I didn't make a mistake.

So, maybe these charges are due to some error on my part. But it's also possible that I'm getting screwed over by Avis. The problem is that other than these two charges to my credit card, nobody has contacted me to let me know what's going on.

With a heavy sigh — and a complaint to Kim — I called Avis.

I'm pleased to report that I didn't have to wait long for a customer service rep. (Maybe because it's early on a Sunday morning?) Unfortunately, all Ed could tell me was that both of these charges are “administrative fees”.

“What are administrative fees?” I asked.

“They could be any number of things,” he said, “but they're usually due to a government fine of some sort. Like a parking ticket. Or a speeding ticket. Stuff like that.”

“Is there any way to find out what my charges are for?” I asked.

“Well, I have a phone number here. You could call,” he said. I shook my head and grimaced. I was glad he couldn't see my reaction. “But you can also simply wait. Generally speaking, you'll eventually be contacted with information about what these fees are for.”

So, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to wait. Yes, it goes against my advice to always be proactive. But it also means I don't have to use the phone.

With luck, I'll get mail (or email) soon that lets me know how I goofed up on the roads of France. Until then, I just hope these administrative fees don't keep accumulating at the end of every month! More than that, I hope I don't have to make additional phone calls about them.

One of my biggest pet peeves — my biggest pet peeve? — is companies that allow you to sign up for service online but force you to phone to cancel service. When we moved into this house (two years ago today!), I subscribed to the Sunday New York Times. It sounded fun, and the online sign-up process was simple.

Turns out, we never read the paper. When it arrived, it sat on the coffee table for a week or two or three, then it got recycled. (Well, we did read the New York Times Magazine supplement, but that's it.) So, I decided to cancel.

In a total dick move, The New York Times forces you to phone in order to cancel. You have to run the “customer retention” gauntlet to stop service. Utter bullshit. If you can sign up via the web, you should be able to cancel via the web. (And don't give me this stupid “it's for your protection” excuse. Who goes around canceling people's newspaper subscriptions?)

Depression and me

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For much of the past two weeks, I've been wrestling with my mental health. I could sense a crisis coming, so I scheduled some time away. I didn't want to have to be worrying about blog posts while I was worrying about everything else. Thus, my “summer vacation”.

Long-time readers are aware that I've struggled with depression for most of my life.

In sixth grade, I missed five weeks of school with what my father called “parrot fever”. (We had parrots, and he attributed my issues to a parrot allergy.) After our family physician could find nothing wrong with me, Dad took me to his therapist. Hushed conversations followed the appointment. The verdict: I was dealing with depression.

In junior high, I was briefly suicidal but made a deliberate decision to turn things around. In high school and college, the depression was always there, looming in the shadows. As a young adult, it mostly went away…but then it came back as I got older.

In 1999, when I was thirty, I experienced something new: anxiety. At one point, I thought I was having a heart attack. Nope. It was a panic attack. When the second panic attack came a few weeks later, I knew it wasn't my heart. It was me stressing about life.

Interesting note: It was after the second panic attack that my doctor strongly encouraged me to start drinking red wine. For real. Before that, I was a teetotaler.

During my divorce in 2011-12, Kris asked me a favor. “Please see a counselor,” she said. I did, and it helped. My therapist gave me advice for coping with depression and anxiety, plus she diagnosed me with ADD. For a few years, I was able to manage my symptoms.

Last year, though, things got bad. March and April and May were a struggle. In June, I published an article here about my ongoing battle with depression. During the summer, my mental health improved, however, and I forgot about how hard the spring had been.

Tweet about Anthony Bourdain's suicide

A Sneaky Little, Sticky Bitch

In February of this year, my anxiety returned. The depression followed soon after. When my heart-attack scare in mid-March turned up no physical issues (other than high blood pressure), my doctor suggested that the problem was anxiety. She asked me to start seeing a therapist again. So, I did.

Since early May, I've been attending talk therapy once a week. We're exploring why I feel so anxious, and how using alcohol to cope with anxiety is a “maladaptive behavior”. We're exploring other ways to make things work.

The trouble? When I don't drink in the afternoon, I get more anxious.

The frustrating thing is that the depression and anxiety lead me to act like a completely different person.

For instance, I love people. I love spending time with people. Social interaction energizes me. Right now, though? I hate it. I don't want to deal with anyone in any capacity. I don't want to spend time with friends. I don't want to be in crowds. (I make an exception for Portland Timbers games.) I don't even want to go to the grocery store.

Here are some ways this manifests itself:

  • Today, I had a lunch appointment with a colleague and friend. Karl is a great guy and I enjoy spending time with him. Normally. Today, though, all I could think about were the reasons I might be able to cancel.
  • Yesterday, I taped a TV interview with a local station. I wanted to cancel that too. Afterward, I ought to have driven out to the family box factory. But I didn't. I didn't want to spend time with my brother and cousin.
  • This Sunday evening, there's another Portland Timbers game. Kim can't go with me, so I need to find somebody else to join me. I have zero desire to do so. I may end up selling the tickets and skipping the game because of my anxiety.

My medical doctor has prescribed propranolol to simultaneously deal with my high blood pressure and my anxiety. While it seems to be helping the former, it's not helping the latter. (According to wikipedia, it's really only useful for performance anxiety.)

Meanwhile, the depression is even worse. If you look at the symptoms of depression, I'm exhibiting every single one. Some of my symptoms are severe.

  • Fatigue? Have it.
  • Insomnia? You bet.
  • Feelings of guilt and worthlessness? Oh boy.
  • Irritability? Yes, and it's so not me. I'm not an irritable guy — but I am lately.
  • Loss of interest in things once pleasurable? Absolutely, and it's SO FRUSTRATING. Nothing appeals to me. I'm numb.
  • Trouble concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions? You have no idea. Everything is a chore.

The latter is especially difficult to deal with. When Karl asked where to meet for lunch today, I couldn't decide. Why not? That's so simple! Last night, Kim wanted me to make dinner. But I didn't because I couldn't decide what to fix. That's ridiculous!

A Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

In fact, yesterday was miserable. It might have been the worst day of my entire life.

My head was a mess of negative thoughts and emotions, all of them swirling and swirling and swirling in a never-ending dark cloud of despair. I couldn't focus on anything. I did tape the TV interview (the first segment went very well, but the second bordered on incoherent) but that's the only productive thing I did all day.

On the drive home, I bought — and then consumed — a big bowl of clam chowder, a big bag of potato chips, and an entire package of chocolate chip cookies. Then I sat in the hot tub and played a videogame for five hours. (At least I didn't drink alcohol!)

When Kim came home, she asked, “What's for dinner?” I admitted that I hadn't made dinner — but I didn't tell her how messed up my head had been all day. (She knows I'm struggling but she doesn't know how badly.) While she changed out of her scrubs, I fried some frozen potstickers.

Naturally, all of this makes me feel even more guilty and worthless and depressed. It's a vicious cycle.

I'm sure you can see how this would translate in an inability to get work done, both here at Get Rich Slowly and in my real life.

It's a problem.

What's the solution to the problem? I'm not sure. There must be one. But I don't know what it is. Drink every afternoon? That's what I've been doing, and it works. But, as my therapist says, it's a maladaptive behavior. I think we all know where that road leads.

My therapist is patient. She keeps giving me homework assignments…and I keep avoiding them. Exercise! Meditate! Set goals! These all sound awesome. They're all things I know I like to do. But they also sound like tremendous effort, so I don't do them.

Bringing Gratitude

Instead of canceling my lunch appointment with Karl today, I went. I'm glad I did.

I've known Karl for almost a decade. He's one of the most uplifting, supportive people I've ever met. I love that his work is centered on positivity. He runs a site called Bring Gratitude and he published a book by the same name. (Six months ago, he shared a guest article here at Get Rich Slowly about practicing gratitude with a daily journal.)

As we sat down for lunch, I told Karl point blank about the issues I'm going through.

“I can totally relate,” he said, and he shared some of his own past struggles.

“You know,” I said, “my therapist has been urging me to try meditation. But I don't know how to start.”

Karl nodded. “I meditate. I meditated just this morning. But it can be tough to get going. You have so many thoughts racing through your head. Here's one thing that might work, though. Give yourself one minute. Only a minute. For that minute, meditate on all of the things that you're thankful for.”

“I like that idea,” I said. “I like it a lot. Normally, I'm a grateful guy. I'm a lucky man, and I know it. Usually. Lately, though, I've forgotten how awesome life is. Meditating on the things I'm grateful for would be a great way to remind me of what I've got.”

Thank You

On my drive home, I put Karl's idea into practice. I took back roads. As I drove slowly through the countryside, I thought about all of the things that I'm thankful for.

  • I'm thankful for Kim. She's a not just a wonderful partner in life, but she's a wonderful person. She's a good soul.
  • I'm thankful for my dog. Tahlequah is a handful (a pawful?), and I do get frustrated with her. But I'm also grateful to have such an enthusiastic hound dog in my life.
  • I'm thankful for my health. I haven't taken care of myself much lately, but that's on me. Generally speaking, my body is in fine shape. And with a little work, it could be in great shape once again.
  • I'm grateful for music. I don't mention it much, but music brings great joy to my life. I love music of all sorts. Taylor Swift, yes, but also U2 and Mozart and Styx and ABBA and Public Enemy.
  • I'm thankful for Portland. I love the green of it. I love its quirky die-hard (sometimes absurd) liberalism. I love the food scene and the Timbers and the passion for books. Speaking of which…
  • I'm grateful for words. Books bring me joy. So does writing. I've managed to make a living from my words, and I hope to continue doing so in the future.
  • I'm grateful for life.

Here at home, I had a call with my business partner, Tom. We spent two hours talking about behind-the-scenes details here at Get Rich Slowly. We made plans for the future. But we also took a lot of time to talk about nothing.

It was awesome. It was just what I needed.

When I got off the call, the dog wanted to play. She looked up with puppy-dog eyes and made her little whine that means, “Dad, throw the ball for me.” We went outside into the sunshine and I threw the ball for her. Then, I got down on my knees and wrestled with her. She loves when I wrestle with her.

“I really do have a good life,” I thought after the dog and I were done chomping on each other. I went into the kitchen to put away the clean dishes. “I'm thankful for all of it.”

You know what? I'm thankful for Get Rich Slowly too. And for you, the readers. This site has been a huge blessing in my life — and I'm not one to talk much about blessings. I've put a lot into GRS, it's true, but I've gotten so much more out of it. I've gotten so much from you folks.

So, thank you. I mean it. Thank you for reading. Thank you for contributing. Thank you for everything.

Few and Far Between

As Karl and I chatted at lunch today, I caught a Natalie Merchant song playing on the restaurant's radio. At first I thought it was “Wonder”, but then I recognized it as “Few and Far Between”.

“How fitting,” I thought. Some of the lyrics:

“‘Til you make your peace with yesterday, you'll never build a future. I swear by what I say: Whatever penance you do, decide what it's worth to you, and then respect it. However long it will take to weather your mistakes? Why not accept it?”

So, that's what has been going on in my life lately. It's been a struggle. But I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. And I can see some money articles at the end of the keyboard. (Thank goodness, right?)

What's been going on with you?

Welcome to fifty: My first health scare as a middle-aged man

written by — published (updated ) 88 Comments

Three weeks ago today, I had a major health scare.

Because it was Monday, I was at the family box factory. I had just finished running payroll and had taken paychecks out to the shop. I exited the building and *bam* my chest just sort of seized up.

“Ouch,” I thought. But, being a Roth, my thought process didn't go much farther than that. (We Roths don't like doctors and we tend to deal with injuries for weeks or months or years before having them looked at.)

On the way back to the office, I stopped to talk to my cousin Duane. He was digging in the dirt, prepping a spot for his summer garden. We chatted about blueberries, tomatoes, and greenhouses. We admired the warm spring day. After a few minutes, I realized that my chest still hurt.

“I don't want to alarm you,” I said, “but I'm having chest pains. It's probably nothing. But just in case it is something, I thought you should know.”

I walked back to the office and sat down at my computer. Instead of going back to work, however, I googled heart attacks. I read the list of symptoms. I wasn't experiencing anything except chest pain but still…Every site said the same thing: Don't mess around. If you're having chest pain, have somebody drive you to a doctor.

Duane came in. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

“I'm still having chest pains,” I said.

“Do you want me to drive you to the doctor?” he asked.

I debated things in my mind. “It's probably nothing,” I thought. “Or maybe it's a panic attack like twenty years ago.” In 1998, I experienced two similar episodes that turned out to be panic attacks. I was under a lot of stress then. I'm not under a lot of stress now.

“Plus, if I go to the doctor, it could end up costing a fortune. My health insurance sucks,” I thought. “But if it is a heart attack and I don't go in, I could end up dead.”

“Well?” Duane said.

“Tell you what,” I said. “I know I'm not supposed to but I'm going to drive myself to urgent care. If you don't hear from me in fifteen minutes, come find me.” (There's only one logical route from the box factory to the nearest clinic.)

I gathered my stuff, hopped in my pickup, and drove slowly to the clinic. [Read more…]

By the numbers: My spending for March 2019

written by — published (updated ) 12 Comments

March was a mixed month in my financial world. I ended March with a slightly higher net worth (up 0.6%) but my spending was the highest it's been this year: $5989.10. Yet, that spending was mostly mindful. I wasn't frittering away money on silly things.

If I wasn't buying dumb stuff, then where did my money go? A few worthwhile places:

  • I spent $653.31 on the yard and garden. Specifically, Kim and I tore out a big cedar tree in the corner of the yard, then converted that space to a small orchard. I use the word “orchard” loosely here. We planted three fruit trees, four blueberries, four grape vines, and a bunch of strawberries. I hope to write about this more in the near future.
  • I spent $625.72 on health and fitness. In the middle of the month, I had quite a scare. Out of nowhere, I had chest pains, so I visited the local hospital ER. My co-pays and prescriptions are reflected in March's spending — and there's more to come. (We're about to have a l-o-n-g article on the $6800 hospital bill I received in the mail yesterday. That'll happen in April or May.) Meanwhile, Kim had knee surgery at the end of the month. I paid for some of her stuff out of my pocket.
  • I spent $579.36 on gifts in March, which is very very unusual.
  • I paid the $450 annual fee on my Chase Sapphire Reserve credit card. (Yes, I know this seems like a lot. But remember the card comes with a $300 travel credit, which means my effective annual fee is $150. I believe I receive $150 in value from the card's other benefits.)

I don't consider any of that spending frivolous although I recognize that some of it isn't necessary. (Do we need an orchard? Do I need to give gifts?)

That said, I did have some weak spots in my spending. I bought several movies on iTunes. In fact, I spent $72.63 on iTunes in March. I need to be careful lest I return to my former profligate ways. No more looking in the iTunes store! I also spent $230.15 on alcohol during the month (most of which was beer).

How did I do with groceries? As you know, my food spending had grown out of control, which is one of the primary reasons I'm tracking my spending in detail this year. Last year, I spent over $1000 per month in food. This year, I'm spending less than $700 per month.

I was very proud of my food spending for most of March. I spent a total of $658.21 during the month: $468.27 on groceries and $184.24 on dining out. That's my lowest monthly food total in two years (excepting months during which I've been on the road).

Going into the last week of March, I'd only spent $241.87 on groceries. That's amazing! Things fell apart, however, when I stocked up on food for Kim's convalescence. Meanwhile, we only had three restaurant meals during the month. For one of those, I paid for two guests. Not bad. Not bad.

Quarterly Spending

Now that we've made it through the first three months of 2019, I was curious how my quarterly spending compared to last year. Monthly spending can fluctuate quite a bit. You can get a better idea of your actual habits by looking at a bigger picture.

Here are some highlights:

  • I spent $116.56 at the iTunes store during the first quarter of 2019. That's less than I spent on movies and TV shows during any single month last year, so that's a win.
  • I spent $2076.54 on food for the quarter, which is lower than any quarter in 2018. I spent $1179.53 on groceries, $323.52 on HelloFresh, and $542.29 on dining out. That restaurant spending is another big win. The grocery spending was good — better than any quarter in 2018 — but I feel like I can do better.
  • I spent a lot on health and fitness during the first three months of the year: $1752.60. And the thing is, it's not going to get much better.
  • This year, I decided to separate hot tub expenses into its own category. I spent $151.88 on hot tub stuff (chemicals, etc.) during the first three months of the year. And, no, that doesn't include electricity.
  • Our zoo — three cats and a dog — cost us $447.54 during the first quarter of 2019.
  • You know where I could save big bucks? By drinking less. I spent $586.36 on alcohol during the first three months of the year (and that includes four weeks during which I didn't drink a drop!). That's $6.44 per day. Time for me to cut back on my craft beer obsession…

I spent a total of $15,364.85 during the first quarter of 2019, an average of $5121.62 per month. That's not a great number, to be honest. It's pretty much what I was spending last year. Still, I'm trying not to get too stressed about things…yet.

The whole point of this exercise is for me to figure out where I'm spending my money and why. Once I have a clear picture, I can make some course corrections.

April is the Cruelest Month

Unfortunately, April is going to have some crazy, crazy spending numbers. My accountant called yesterday to give me my tax bill. I owe $20,000. (I'm not joking.) The hospital called too. They wanted to let me know that I owe them $6800 for the ER visit in the middle of March. To cap things off, payment is due on the vacation that Kim and I booked a year ago. We'll be headed to Greece and Italy in August — but we're paying for it today.

Fortunately, I knew that some of these expenses were looming, so I have cash set aside to pay for taxes and our trip. (The ER visit was a surprise, obviously, and I don't have money set aside for that.) That doesn't change the fact that April's expenses are going to be insane, though. It just means I'm somewhat prepared for the insanity.

The upside to having a $6800 hospital bill so early in the year? It gives me a chance to make maximum use of my health insurance! My max “out of pocket” is $7900 annually. Since it looks like I'm going to hit that, it makes sense to address all medical issues that are bugging me in 2019.

At the end of 2018, I had a net worth of $1,334,227.20. At the end of March, my net worth was $1,397,545.18. That's a leap of more than $63,000 (or 4.75%). That's great! In reality, this simply reflects a hot stock market. My investment accounts are up $77,933.04 this year (11.45%).

A hot stock market can cover a multitude of sins…