July 2017 / mental health / 4 minutes (850 words)
I’ve drifted into blogging about mental health, but this month’s might seem the most obscure of all. But stick with it… it might relate to you.
Last month’s blog was on the three things that help me get positive and previous blog posts were about dreams and burnout and even spilt milk. This month is about how I inherited a house from my parents when I was born. More people inherit them than you’d think. A lot more.
The house I inherited is broken down into flats with mostly long-term tenants. Obviously my parents managed it for me when I was young, but as I got older it became my responsibility. It’s been mine so long now that I can’t blame my parents when there’s a problem with it. It’s my building now
I shouldn’t complain really about it, but over the years I’ve hated this building and its tenants. I’ve hated being a landlord. I know you’re thinking I should sell it, but that’s not possible. You’ll soon realise why.
Last week I went down there with my wife to get a few photos of the house and its weird group of tenants for this blog. I wanted to tell the story of how I gave up fighting and accepted I’m a landlord, but it didn’t go exactly as I planned.