Estate planning isn’t some glossy brochure thing—it’s me, 34, sitting cross-legged on my linoleum floor in Ohio, surrounded by Cheez-It crumbs and a manila folder that smells like my dad’s garage. I cracked it open last week and, bam, avalanche of deeds, life-insurance riders, and a Post-it that just says “ASK KEVIN???” in shaky Sharpie. That’s when estate planning stopped being a grown-up checklist and turned into a full-blown panic sweat. Anyway, here’s the unfiltered download from someone who still can’t find the matching sock to yesterday’s laundry.
Why Estate Planning Freaked Me Out More Than My Credit Score
Look, I thought “protect wealth” meant Venmo-ing my niece $20 for straight A’s. Then I found out Dad never updated beneficiaries after his divorce—meaning his 401(k) was legally headed to ex-stepmom Cheryl who once keyed his Camaro. Estate planning suddenly felt like defusing a bomb with a Spotify playlist and zero instructions. My heart was doing that weird fluttery thing, like when you almost back into a cop.
- Sensory overload check: the folder’s paper clips were rusty, left little orange freckles on my fingertips.
- Smell trigger: old ink + basement mildew = instant childhood guilt.
- Soundtrack: the fridge humming the same three notes it’s hummed since 2009.
Estate Planning Mistakes I Made So You Don’t Have To
The “I’ll Do It Later” Procrastination Spiral
I told myself estate planning could wait until I “had something worth protecting.” Cut to me Googling “average net worth 34 Ohio” at 3 a.m. while eating cold lo mein. Spoiler: a paid-off Civic and a sneaker collection isn’t “nothing. ” I finally booked a lawyer on a Tuesday that smelled like impending rain—turns out the consult was cheaper than my bar tab.
The Beneficiary Form That Lied
Filled one out half-drunk after a Browns loss. Listed my brother “in case I choke on a pierogi.” Forgot to change it when he moved to Denver. Imagine the postal service trying to next-day-air my Xbox to Colorado. Estate planning fail #2.
Trust Fund? More Like Trust Fall Into Chaos
Thought “revocable living trust” sounded bougie. Lawyer explained it like a Netflix queue for my stuff—skip the probate line. I nodded like I understood, then immediately texted my group chat: “wait do I need a trust or just a bigger safe???”
Estate Planning Tools I Actually Use (No Fancy Heirs Required)
- Last Will & Testament – Mine is four pages, includes a clause that my vinyl collection goes to whoever can name all Wu-Tang members in under ten seconds.
- Revocable Living Trust – Skipped probate, saved my sister from courthouse purgatory. Pro tip: name a successor trustee who isn’t also your emergency contact (they’ll be too busy crying).
- Digital Asset Log – Google Doc titled “If I Get Hit By Uber Eats Driver.” Passwords, crypto seed phrases, and the Spotify playlist I want played at the repast.
- Life Insurance Rider – Added a $50k policy for $28/month. Felt like buying peace of mind in bulk at Costco.
Protecting Wealth When Your Wealth Is Mostly Nostalgia
Real talk—my “wealth” is 70% sentimental junk. Dad’s rusty tackle box, Mom’s recipe cards with margarine stains, the mixtape labeled “Summer ’98” that still works. Estate planning forced me to assign dollar values to memories. I cried over a $12 L.L.Bean fleece because it smelled like campfire. Lawyer didn’t bat an eye; apparently this is normal.
Death Taxes? More Like Surprise Bills
Found out Ohio’s estate tax kicks in above $13,000. My sneaker spreadsheet suddenly looked like evidence. Quick fix: gifted my niece $18k over two years (legal limit) and watched her college fund grow faster than my regret.
Building a Legacy That Doesn’t Suck
Legacy isn’t a marble headstone—it’s the group chat blowing up with “remember when Uncle G locked himself in the porta-potty?” stories. I wrote letters to my future nonexistent kids, sealed them in Ziplocs because humidity. Estate planning bonus: forced me to articulate why I want my ashes scattered at the Put-in-Bay ferry dock (ferry fries = peak happiness).
The “What If I Die Tomorrow” Fire Drill
Did a full run-through last month. Printed everything, stuck it in a fire safe shaped like a giant Oreo (don’t judge). Told my best friend where the key’s hidden—inside the hollowed-out “World’s Okayest Brother” mug. Felt weirdly adult, like finally replacing the smoke detector battery.
Resources I Actually Clicked (Not Sponsored, Swear)
- Nolo’s Will Software – $80, done in pajamas.
- Everplans – Digital vault that doesn’t judge your password “password123”.
- IRS Estate Tax FAQ – Dry but saved me $400 in panic-Googling.
Estate Planning Wrap-Up: Do It Before the Folder Explodes
Anyway, I’m still a hot mess—haven’t found Dad’s original stock certificates, and my cat keeps sleeping on the trust docs. But the big stuff? Locked down. If you’re procrastinating, start with one Post-it: “Who gets the good towels?” Momentum is real.
Your move: Grab a cheap folder, a beer, and your least dramatic sibling. Draft the ugly first version tonight. Future you will send a thank-you text from the afterlife—or at least from the ferry dock.