So one evening during a brain storming session, a thought entered my mind that made me shiver: Why not just try to be homeless? Well, I have to admit, I had thought this before and had worked out all the details in my mind. What if? What if? I said. What if I had a gym membership, so I could still take a shower? What if I had a job where I could still make money? I could sleep in my car. I could keep a storage unit for my furniture. And if the weather was ever dangerous, I could stay with friends. Yes, and I could eat canned food without heating it up.

Yes, I was at a point of sheer desperation.

I had decided that if I allowed myself to eat out for several meals, that I could make up that expense just by not having to pay rent.

The more time that passed, the better the idea seemed. I was ready to say, “To hell with it all and with everyone!” I was so fed up with money, and not having money, and not being able to pay my bills that I even decided that if I died in the process of becoming homeless that I would be okay with that.

So I started spreading the word to my friends. I was going to be homeless, and I was not going to have to worry about paying those blasted bills anymore. Even if I could not save any money, at least they would not be able to find me save a post office box that I would maintain to get some mail.

I explained every detail to my friends about my soon-to-be-new life. And the response was always the same: You’re crazy! I can’t believe you would do this just to save some money.

“But I don’t want to go back to working full-time,” I would respond. “I would rather die than do that. I would rather just piddle making a little money and live happily than just survive for the sake of existence.” Even now, I can see the validity in that argument. Truth is truth, no matter how painful, and I still understand that desire for freedom on some level.

As time grew closer for the move out of my room that I rented, I started cleaning out my things, downsizing, throwing away, getting ready for life in my car. I gave my furniture to my roommates and told them they could do whatever they liked with it. I was able to fit everything in my car. I was getting more and more excited about my new life. I felt like I was getting closer and closer to financial freedom. Rather than having enough money and living beneath my means, I would lower my living standard to such a point that money did not matter.

So then, I have to wonder, what the breaking point was? Sometimes I ask what made me change my mind. To this day, I’m not exactly sure. But it might have been a conversation I had with an ex of mine that told me how worried he was that I would do something so drastic as live on the street. He expressed such disappointment that it broke my heart, and that might be the reason I changed my mind. I may never know for sure.