Getting a mortgage, post bankruptcy has proven the Holy Grail of my current credit pilgrimage. In former bleaker fiscal times, I had neither credit nor income to even ponder the possibility. I rented a nice home, or rather a series of them.  Like many with poor credit, I was at the mercy of landlords. I was gouged financially with deposits, or paid out the nose in rent.

Renting and trying to save is a vicious cycle. I am weary of being on the wheel, endlessly running but never winning the race. I seek permanency. I need walls that aren’t “renter” egg shell white.

I swear I will kiss the ground every time I arrive at my very own home (and possibly run around the house naked screaming like a chicken).

I turned 44 a few weeks ago with a determination to obtain that home. Other than an act of God, it’s going to take hard work. I have to cut expenses to save real money. There is only one way to do that, shy of selling the children. I began to question, “What am I willing to sacrifice to reach that goal?”

As my current lease is expiring in four weeks, I discovered another option. It may kill me in the end, but it’s one I am committed to. I found a place to rent at half of what I am currently paying. Not only will I save in rent, it’s far smaller- which means utility savings, too. It can’t cost much to heat a shoe box.

I soon will have a lovely view of a pit bull pen. Soothing sounds of trains on the nearby track will lull me to sleep. The inside is new and clean, but no frills. I can save a ton. (By my best estimate, almost a thousand dollars a month). In two years, if I am frugal, I can have enough to not only pay some residual bills, but also produce a sizeable down payment.

I can do this. I hope.

I told the kids today. This went over like Hiroshima. “What? We have to move? Again?”

From the oldest, still-at-home child, age 18, came the sound of a door slamming. Its force, I am sure, registered a seismic shock large enough to spawn tsunamis in Fiji.

The middle daughter was only concerned by how many receptacles were in the bathroom, for her multiple hair appliances.

And the youngest merely cried herself to sleep.

It was a grand day.

I am still certain, in spite of the kids’ response; I am doing the right thing. A goal is not a goal if you don’t work toward it. Always before I have taken the path of providing the short term, “fix”. We currently have a lovely home on the lake. But it’s not ours, and we pay a small fortune for it. Spending money foolishly has become a pet peeve of mine since my bankruptcy. I am tired of doing so anymore.

The coming weeks, months and possibly- years- will be no doubt a bit painful. We will make the best of it, though. Some of us will transition easier.

But the goal, in the end, will be worth the effort spent. Which brings me to ask- “What are you willing to sacrifice to achieve a credit goal?” I’d be curious to hear. (If the children don’t murder me in my sleep, that is).

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