Just Eat the Crust: The Home Loan Ride-Along

It’s been a moment since I last wrote. Life has been… loud. And messy. And confusing. And somehow also pushing me forward even when I’m dragging my feet.

But here’s the thing I did — 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 another apartment. That’s what people like you do.

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 “home” for a long time. Being displaced does that to you. Leaving my house when I divorced. Living with someone for many years only to have to move out with almost no notice. Staying with my sister and having one night where it felt like I might need to find a place immediately — again.

Home insecurity leaves a mark on you. And my brain… well, it’s self-deprecating. It can come up with 100 reasons why I shouldn’t do something and maybe two reasons why I should. And usually those two are polite and whispery.

But one day, after years of giving advice to my kids, my staff, strangers at Target checkout lane,s I finally took my own advice:

Just ask. What’s the worst that happens? They say no? Then you pivot.

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

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! Because 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 believed in everyone 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

• tell me that they see me make a difference

• 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 it’s okay.