Holy shit, I'm going to be a homeowner.
10 years ago when I started freelancing I was poor. Like, on welfare poor. My daughter and I lived alone together in a one-bedroom apartment and I used to have my bed in the living room so I could actually sleep without a 2-year-old chanting, "Mama. Mama! MAMAMAAAAAA!" at night.
We eventually moved across the way to a two-bedroom apartment and I thought I was hot stuff then. My own bedroom? You made it, Kid.
Then some things happened, and I moved in with a (now) ex-boyfriend's father because his mother literally took off one morning with the clothes on her back to never return. Along with my daughter, me, (now) ex, and his father, we also let his brother and his nephew live there. It was a constant party for them....while I worked. No one else worked, and long story, short, I took care of an entire household by myself for almost 3 years. I got used, Dude. I got used bad. But it didn't stop there!
One day, his dad lost his shit and pointed a (loaded) gun at my head because I had come home from a weekend at my mother's to find my Le Creuset cookware missing. First of all, do not fuck with my cookware. Second of all, I didn't have a lot of nice things back then, so to mess with the nice things I did have was savage. I lost my shit and told those lazy fucks I was done. The police ended up coming and wouldn't let his father back into the house until I collected everything that was mine and moved out. Therefore, I quickly moved into another 2-bedroom apartment with my daughter and (now) ex because he took up for me at the time. I said we'd give it one year to try to repair our relationship, because it was so horribly damaged from the years of living with his family, but suffice it to say, it didn't work. And when I say it didn't work...it really, really didn't work because he became addicted to substances and ended up accidentally killing someone. That was the moment I was done. I knew at that moment that it was me and my daughter. But again, it wasn't easy.
The newspaper published our address and people stalked me for weeks. My daughter couldn't ride the school bus anymore because the kids made fun of her for what my ex had done. I tried to get the apartment complex to renew my lease by myself, but they wouldn't let us stay. My friend who was a property manager at the first apartment my daughter and I were in changed companies and showed me a house. The house that I fell in love with immediately, and the house that I live in now.
I have made this place my home. It's my safe haven. It's decorated and it's the two of us all over. My newest favorite addition is a Rosie the Riveter framed print. You know, the one that says "WE CAN DO IT!" We started over. We healed together. It's been the two of us aside from a minor setback with another (now) ex.
I asked my friend and current property manager last year if she would ask the owners if they would consider selling me this home and they said no at the time.
I was contacted the other day by same said friend who said they had changed their mind!
So holy shit. I'm about to become a homeowner and I couldn't be more proud at how far I've come. There have been many bumps, many bruises, and many setbacks along the way. But I've met some awesome people: clients who I now consider friends. Conference peeps. And even a bunch of Internet folk who I have never even had the pleasure to meet in-person (yet). I've found out who my true family and friends are. The ones that have been there no matter what. The ones who have sat and talked to me until the wee hours of the morning because I was off my rocker. The ones who have been kind and patient with me even when I wouldn't have even been either kind nor patient with myself. So yeah, "WE CAN DO IT!" and so can you.