Just Eat the Crust: The Home Loan Ride-Along

Somedays life somehow pushes me forward even when I’m dragging my feet. The part inside of me that encourages rather than discourages is getting louder.

I did a thing. Something I’ve talked myself out of for years: I finally applied for a home loan. And let me tell you, the mental gymnastics leading up to that were Olympic-level.

My brain:

Jodi, what are you thinking? You won’t qualify.

You can’t own a house. You don’t know what you’re doing.

Play it safe. Just do an apartment. That’s what women your age do. Pay the HOA fee and don't worry about anything.

But then the quieter, stubborn part of me whispered,

But what if I want this? What if I want to feel proud of paying for my own place? What if I want to decorate it, paint it, fix it, clean it, not because someone expects me to, but because it’s mine?

The truth is, I’ve been insecure about the concept of “home” for a while now. Being displaced does that to you. I had to leave my house when I divorced and find a new home. I then lived with someone for several years, only to have to move out with almost no notice. And then, staying with my sister and having a moment one night where it felt like I might need to find a place again. I decided i didn't want to keep living like that anymore. Where the roof over my head depended on someone else's feelings. Livingin a place that never feels like your own leaves a mark on you.

Of course my brain… can come up with 100 reasons why I shouldn’t do something and maybe two reasons why I should. And usually those two reason are pretty quiet.

But one day, after years of giving advice to my kids, my friends, my co-workers, even strangers at the Target checkout lane. I finally took my own advice:

Just ask. What’s the worst that happens? They say no? Then you figure out a different way.

So I applied. With shaky hands and a brain yelling all the reasons it wouldn’t work. I hit the send button.

And then today, the finance company called.

I qualified for more than what I asked for.

And my heart… my heart smiled. It actually smiled. I felt excited. I felt proud. I felt capable.

I felt like a god damn independent woman!

I worked for this. I earned my promotions. I paid off my student loans. I chipped away at old debt. I worked late nights and early mornings, and three jobs, and yet it is always easier to believe in everyone else; except myself.

And today? I believed in me. Even if just for a moment.

I’m learning not to let the doubting thoughts run the show. I’m learning that I don’t need a partner to succeed or validate me. And honestly, if I ever do have a partner, I want one who:

• encourages me

• tells me they see me make a difference in their life and others.

• tells me they are proud of me

• supports me

• starts supper when I’m working late

• leaves a plate in the microwave for me

• folds the laundry I forgot in the dryer

• vacuums without being asked

• understands that when two people live in a house together, it's both of theirs

• is proud of me simply for being me

  
  

And if that partner is me right now, then I’m beautifully content with that.

Truthfully, I even feel this little tug this small pull toward booking a round-trip ticket for one somewhere. Just me. Because one is not the loneliest number. Not anymore.

So here it is: I did a scary thing. I took a chance on myself. And I’m learning to trust this brain of mine, the loud, busy, curious, creative one, the one I tried to quiet for so many years.

Today, I let it think. Today, I let it wander. Today, I let it dream again.

So…Eat that crust. Say yes to yourself. And stop waiting for someone else to tell you to do hard things. Tell yourself you can!