Starting from Square One: What I would do if I became homeless.
Okay—I’m going to just start right off the bat and tell you that we are fine. We are safe. We are healthy. We are not homeless. Before I send all of our family into a complete spiral—we are good, Lol.
But occasionally I do have these intrusive thoughts and wonder "What if?" And the strategy in my brain can’t just take the thought at face value—NOOOOOO. I need to strategize it out to the nth degree. So I’m going to tell you my hypothetical plans if I became homeless… Sorry if this is weird, but maybe you will find some strategy in it for yourself!
Okay, It happened. You’re Homeless.
You are driving down the street to your house and as you pull up, you see a guy in a suit standing on the porch with a manila envelope. Next to him is a sheriff or some sort of law enforcement official. They look scary and intimidating and, downright, just not a good time. As you pull into the driveway, they walk up to the car and say something a little intimidating like “YOU NO LONGER LIVE HERE” or something like that. Honestly, I don't know how stuff like this goes down (Thank the Lord!). But essentially, you are homeless. What do you do?
Well, it sounds crazy but I think the first thing I would do would be to walk away from the scary men. And in the light of being instantly homeless, I think I would hoard the important things—like underwear. And maybe my favorite dry shampoo. But before I did that, I would try to cut through the panic and stress and answer some fun questions like—How long do I have? What do I owe? How can I stay in my home? For this instance, I’m just going to go with the setting of: I have 7 days to get out of the house. I am also going to assume I only have about $500 in my checking account, and no access to cash savings, credit cards, or any other creative funds.
So what do you do first?
If I wasn't self-employed, I would immediately gather documentation and ask my boss for a raise. I mean, what’s the worst they can say—No!? I can live with those odds. Sometimes you can’t just cut expenses anymore; in that instance, you simply have to make more money. That would be my goal.
Also—on that thought, I would be HUSTLINNNN’ to make some cash. Old clothes I haven't worn? Sell on a consignment page. Those purses in my closet I never carry? Sold. My cute furniture in the house? I don't need it—list it on Craigslist. (If that's even still a thing...) I feel like my own personal line in the sand of needs versus wants would become very clear, very fast. If it was not something that would help me quickly make more money (like my phone, my laptop, tools, etc.), I would be selling it to collect some cash. And the sentimental people are having a mini freak-out right about now...
Now, this is where some people could totally pull it off and keep the house and just sacrifice some of the “fun” things—like purses and furniture and other creature comforts. But I’m going to take it a step further. I can’t gather enough cash to save the house, so what now?
Finding a new “Home”
This is when I would start calling all of my closest people asking if I can rent out a room, a basement, or an RV that’s just chilling in the barn. Some people wouldn’t settle for a rented room or RV, and that’s cool too. But I think I could sacrifice it. Now this is where things get messy—what about dogs? My husband? Hell, what if we had kids? One room with multiple people and dogs? Probably not. An RV somewhere? Yeah, we could probably make that happen as a worst-case scenario. I have done the full-time RV living before. It’s not for the faint of heart, but it’s also not unbearable and honestly, it’s pretty cost-effective. So that’s where I would start. I would be tapping into every network I have to rent or take care of an off-season RV for a temporary home.
Now, if that wasn't an option—I would use my $500 to rent a storage unit (the absolute smallest one I could find since my goal was to sell the majority of my things). From there I would pursue friends to couch surf. This one is tricky because that’s one of those “don't wear out your welcome” kind of situations. I would want to make sure they knew my expectations and timeline. If I said it was going to be 20 days, I would do everything to honor that. If I for some reason failed at that timeline, I would get real comfortable in my car... or find another friend to couch surf.
If I was living in my car
So this is like almost worst-case scenario. Literal worst-case scenario would be living on the street, but I am still pretending for this example that I have my car. I feel confident that I could live in my car temporarily. It would absolutely suck, but it wouldn’t be impossible. To make this legit, I have to find a way to shower because homeless or not, I still have a little bit of dignity and not taking a shower—that’s not the vibe. So what would I do? Enter Planet Fitness’ $25 Black Card Membership 😂.
Heck, maybe I would even lose some weight through the whole process. Because I have social anxiety—I couldn't just walk in, take a shower, and walk out. I would actually have to workout and THEN take a shower. You know, to be legit. So people didn't get too curious. For logistics, truck stop showers are closer to $11 a piece. Planet Fitness is $25 for the whole month.
Now, food when it comes to living in your car—I have a plan for that too! I would sign up to be a DoorDash or Uber Eats driver. Strategically, if I had a route and wanted to order some fresh food, I would call ahead, place an order, and pick up my order when I picked up my DoorDash order. This would essentially help me pay for the food while getting paid to deliver the food. But this isn't reasonable for every day—especially when you consider it costs $13 for a meal at Chick-fil-A. My first thought on food would be to find a friend who would help with a Costco hookup. It costs more upfront, but they have solid options for beef jerky sticks, snacks, and drinks in bulk. It would keep you from having to buy McDonald's every day. I would like to be optimistic and say I felt confident making PB&Js in my car, but unfortunately, I do not. Absolutely no. I would be scraping sticky dried jelly off the gear shifter until the end of time. Not happening.
It won’t be like this forever
Now, if you have read this far—bless your patient soul and my ADHD squirrel brain. While this thought swirls around in my brain and I come up with a million and a half different “What about this?”, “But what if I had $2,000 instead of just $500?”, “What if I could live somewhere for free and pay in terms of running errands, picking up meds, or caregiving?”
While I still think of all of those options, I end up in the same spot almost every time—It won’t be like this forever. There will be a raise of your salary. You will find a cost-effective house to live in. You will trade in your car payment for a reliable vehicle that has a few less creature comforts but is paid for in cash. It may take some struggle. It may take some time. But things change.
If there is one thing that never changes—it’s that everything changes.
And that thought alone is why I continually do this thought exercise. It’s intense. It makes you think. It kinda hurts. But in this hypothetical world I visit that has nothing but detours, roadblocks, and rejections, I find a couple of important things:
The things we think matter (But don’t)
Not once when I walk through this mental exercise do I worry about that one shirt I have hung onto that was gifted by a friend that I only keep out of guilt. Not once have I obsessed about how I just HAD to keep that designer purse (that I never even carry). Not once do I envision myself piling boxes on boxes of things to pay hundreds of dollars in storage fees.
The tangible things we hold on to mean nothing when we are faced with homelessness. Or when we are spending hours at a hospital to visit and care for our loved ones. The things we keep are merely background noise for the more important things going on in our lives.
When faced with adversity, the shoes you wear, the amount you spent on your couches, that wall art you bought at the downtown boutique—it’s no longer important. And honestly—I find a lot of comfort in that.
You can take, but you can’t take it all
You can take my house, I can eat PB&Js in my car, I can camp in an RV. But there are assets that don't show up on a property deed that ensure I won’t be on that friend’s couch for very long. If I had to start from zero to rebuild, there are a couple of things I would lean into.
As someone who purposely runs through a mental gymnastics exercise about what they would do if they were homeless, I'll tell you right now—Mr. Bank Man could NEVER take my imagination. Clearly.... 😂😂
With that imagination comes a lot of very creative thinking. I probably have at least 30 variations for what I would do in this situation and luckily, none of those scenarios have ever been needed. But I do find joy in testing myself on the “What Ifs.” As the world changes, my theories change, my strategies adapt, and my creativity becomes MORE (which is kinda scary).
I also fully understand that you can take things from me, but you can’t take my hustle. I am sure there is a variation of this situation where I end up taking a minimum wage job at McDonald's. But I can promise, somewhere at the end of that specific scenario—I am negotiating franchise fees as the new owner of that McDonald's. The hustle is always there whether I am up on my luck or getting kicked while on the ground. Mr. Bank Man has nothing on the hustle.
You also can’t take my “figure-it-out-ness.” That’s not a word, but you know what I mean. It goes hand-in-hand with creative thinking, but having that thing inside you that forces you to figure it out is powerful. Some people succumb to their situation. A moment happens and they just accept it and think that’s all there is. It took me YEARS to figure out that you don't have to just accept things. You can fight for more. You can strive for different. You can test your risk tolerance and try for something bigger. You are allowed to ask for more.
A lot of the time (from my personal experience), that figure-it-out-ness and the ability to fight, strive, ask, and accept more are not natural tendencies we as humans have. For me, it has always been buried on the other side of my comfort zone. When I stepped outside of my comfort zone, I could do it scared and ask for the raise. Or step outside the comfort zone and fight for that opportunity I had earned. Or step outside of the comfort zone and try something completely different and unheard of.
And for me, that has always been where the magic happened.
And the final thing—you can take everything from me, but you can’t take the relationships I have built over the years. I have a network of people that I have had the opportunity to build relationship capital with. I feel very confident that if I called many of them, I could ask for money with the intention of paying it back, and they would give freely. I could ask for a place to stay and they would offer it. I could ask for a connection for a job or career shift, and they trust me enough to offer up their network to me for my benefit. My friends, my people, my network are a connection-built insurance policy I have insured myself with over the years. Mr. Bank Man can take my home, but he can’t take my relationships and the people who might be able to help uplift me in this situation.
Most people think that losing a home means starting from zero. But after running this strategy through my head a thousand times, I realized that "Zero" is a myth. As long as you have your integrity, your "figure-it-out-ness," and the relationships you’ve spent years nurturing, you aren't at the bottom—you’re just at the beginning. You aren't starting over; you’re starting from Square One, and this time, you're starting with experience.
That experience is the one asset that actually appreciates when things get hard, turning a terrifying 'what if' into a manageable 'how to.'
All in all, we aren’t homeless.
Did I just take you on a wild, slightly anxious journey through my hypothetical ruin? Yes? Well, I would do it again.
I love this mental exercise because it forces me to check my pockets. If it was all gone tomorrow, what would I have left? Have I spent more time curating my “stuff” or building my circle? Have I prioritized things over my skills? Have I put physical items on an unhealthy pedestal that is crumbling at the base?
My challenge to you — do your own audit. What would you do if a man in a suit showed up on your porch telling you that you no longer have a home? How would you shift your priority in what you are actively doing, thinking, putting time into, energy into, and investing in?
Today, I’m grateful for my walls — but I’m even more grateful for what I’ve built inside myself to survive without them. At the end of the day, your home is just a container. Make sure that what’s inside the container is worth more than the walls themselves.