This is the story of how my dreams came true—written for future me. Because let’s be honest, there will come a time (probably during laundry folding or some existential shower moment) when I’ll need a reminder of just how much power I hold when I focus and believe.
In the early spring of 2024, I made a bold declaration: We would buy our first home within a year. I had no idea how we’d pull it off and barely knew where to start, but I was certain. My husband, on the other hand, had a front-row seat to my “manifesting magic” and understandably felt his financial fears surface. Meanwhile, I started purging the house like a woman possessed. If abundance needed room to flow, I was going to clear the path!
Now, a little context: I’m a recovering hoarder. The attachment I’ve had to things? Wildly unnecessary. But for years, I feared letting go and possibly going without. Couple that with my Olympic-level avoidance skills, and you’ve got a recipe for chaos. Still, I told my husband, “I’m going to get our home ready to move.” We had never owned a home before. I had been feeling stifled and unhappy with my apartment for several years. Part of the purge was an attempt to love the space I was currently living in (IYKYK) in order to help me manifest the home of my dreams. Slowly but surely, I started to say and feel positive things about my apartment. I became grateful to the space that had been my home for the last 8 years.
Shortly after, life threw me a curveball. My ferritin levels tanked to a dangerous low. (Spoiler alert: There’s a very clear connection between my emotions and my health. My body is basically my accountability partner.) As I pressed on through spring and summer, I faced a gnarly tooth infection and what I suspect was a bout of COVID. But did that stop me? Absolutely not. I kept purging like I was Marie Kondo on caffeine.
My husband eventually got on board with my decluttering spree, though he wasn’t quite ready to house hunt. Anytime I sent him a potential listing, he shot it down faster than I could hit "send." So, I paused and focused on the purge.
Then, on 9/19—what would have been my father’s 72nd birthday—Joe sent me a house to check out. (Yes, you read that right. HE sent ME a house!) I practically fell out of my chair. We went to see it but knew almost immediately it wasn’t the one. Still, his willingness to look was my green light.
Five days later, I sent him another house. It was juuust out of our price range and, to my surprise, Joe loved it. I wasn’t as thrilled—it was built in 1860, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to wrestle with a house older than most modern appliances. Nevertheless, we reached out to our realtor.
Here’s the catch: Joe was on call that week. Scheduling anything during his on-call rotation is like trying to plan a beach day in New England—you’re constantly dodging storms. We agreed that if the house was meant to be, it would still be there when his schedule cleared.
Spoiler: It wasn’t. The house was scooped up before we could act. Disappointed but determined, we kept searching.
Fast forward a couple of weeks. I suggested we rent a dumpster to clean out our basement—a black hole of over 15 years’ worth of “stuff.” Joe hesitated. The thought of tackling the basement felt like prepping for battle, but I told him, “We’re telling the universe and our future home we’re ready to move!” That night, we ordered the dumpster.
The next morning at 9 a.m., the dumpster was delivered. At 10:45 a.m., my realtor texted: “Hi!! Guess what just came BACK ON THE MARKET?!”
Not only had the house returned to the market that morning, but the price had dropped, and the seller was throwing in some major upgrades. I nearly fell over. We wasted no time and scheduled a showing for the very next day.
When I arrived at the house, I stepped into the backyard (with my realtor’s blessing) and felt something I had never felt before: I was home.
We made an offer. It was accepted. Exactly three weeks later, we closed. Two weeks after that, we moved in.
I share this story—every detailed twist and turn—to remind myself (and maybe you) that dreams really do come true. When we focus, trust the process, and embrace the energy of possibility, magic happens.
Our family is thriving in our new home. And me? I’m thriving too.
Future me, reread this whenever you need a nudge. You’ve got this.
I love this. I could listen to you for hours <3 On all he things you/we can do. You are my inspiration