Today I Choose to be Determined – How to be Determined

In 1996, as a single mom, I bought a house for Jesse and me.

It was a dream come true—our own place, our own walls to paint, our own yard for him to play in. I was 34, working multiple jobs, stretching every dollar. That house represented everything I wanted to give my son: stability, safety, a real home.

The reality was messier than the dream.

Over the next decade, that house went into foreclosure not once, not twice, but three times.

The First Foreclosure

The first time, I was blindsided. A slow season at work, an unexpected medical bill, and suddenly I was three months behind. The notice came on yellow paper. Jesse, then 10, asked what it meant. I told him we might have to move. He asked if we could take the basketball hoop.

That night, after he went to bed, I sat at the kitchen table and made a plan. Or more accurately, I made seventeen plans until I found one that might work.

I picked up bartending shifts. Every night after my day job, I’d drop Jesse at my mom’s and work until 2 AM. Came home smelling like cigarettes and spilled beer, feet screaming, counting tips at the same kitchen table.

Four months later, I walked into the bank with cash. Caught up. Kept the house. Kept the basketball hoop.

The Second Foreclosure

You’d think I’d learned. But life doesn’t care about your learning curve.

Two years later, the company I worked for folded. No warning. Friday paycheck bounced. Monday, doors locked. Just like that—primary income gone.

The yellow notice came again. This time Jesse was 12, old enough to understand. He offered to get a paper route. I cried in the shower that night—not from despair, from determination. No way my kid was working to save our house.

I doubled down. Day job at an office. Night job at the bar. Weekend job doing bookkeeping. Slept four hours a night. Lived on coffee and stubbornness.

Six months of grinding. Paid it off again. Kept the house.

The Third Foreclosure

The third time, I almost gave up.

Jesse was 16. I was exhausted—not just physically, but soul-tired. The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix. When the notice came, I actually considered letting it go. Maybe renting would be easier. Maybe I was fighting a losing battle.

But determination isn’t about feeling strong. It’s about continuing when you feel weak.

This time, I got creative. Sold everything I could—jewelry, furniture, things I’d been saving. Took out a loan against my car. Negotiated payment plans. Swallowed my pride and asked for help.

Clawed our way out of the hole one more time.

What Determination Really Looks Like

That’s what determination really looks like—it isn’t one heroic moment, it’s steady grit through repeated trials, the refusal to quit even when everything says you should.

Determination is:

• Ugly crying in the shower, then getting up for the 5 AM shift
• Counting change to buy groceries but still making the mortgage payment
• Falling asleep standing up at your second job
• Saying “we’ll figure it out” when you have no idea how
• Getting knocked down three times and standing up four

The Plot Twist

Here’s what nobody tells you about determination: it compounds.

Each time I saved that house, I got stronger. Not just financially—though I learned to budget like a forensic accountant. But mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually.

By the third foreclosure, I wasn’t the same person who faced the first one. I had evidence. Proof that I could do impossible things. A track record of determination paying off.

The House Today

I still own that home – its been the center of our lives for decades. The education that came with fighting for it has been priceless.

This house taught me more than any university could. It taught me that determination isn’t glamorous. It’s not Instagram-worthy. It’s grinding when you want to quit. It’s choosing the hard path repeatedly. It’s becoming someone who simply doesn’t quit.

Determination in Daily Life

Now at 61, I recognize determination in smaller battles:

• Learning technology that frustrates me
• Rebuilding spreadsheets that crash
• Starting over with Dutch pour paintings that fail
• Pushing through writer’s block
• Fighting for Curtis’s health

The muscle built saving that house three times—it’s still there. Stronger now. Ready.

The Truth About Determination

Determination doesn’t mean you don’t cry. I cried plenty.

Determination doesn’t mean you don’t doubt. I doubted constantly.

Determination doesn’t mean you don’t fail. I failed at plenty of other things while succeeding at keeping that house.

Determination means you keep going anyway. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re scared. Even when everyone would understand if you quit.

Building Determination

You build determination by being determined. There’s no other way. You start with small things—finishing the workout, completing the project, having the hard conversation. Each act of determination makes the next one easier.

But here’s the secret: determination is a choice, not a feeling. You don’t feel determined and then act. You act determined until you feel it.

Your Determined Moment

What’s your yellow notice? What’s the thing you’re fighting to keep, achieve, or overcome? What’s knocked you down once, twice, maybe three times?

Here’s what I know from three foreclosures and a saved house: you’re stronger than you think. You can take more than you imagine. And determination isn’t about being special—it’s about being stubborn in the right direction.

That house on Deer Run E? Jesse’s kids swim in our pool now. Expanded family, same basketball hoop. Sometimes I just stand outside and stare at our home, the one I fought for, the one i saved and I think of that younger version of myself.

She didn’t know she’d make it. She just knew she wouldn’t quit.

That’s determination. Not knowing you’ll win. Just knowing you won’t stop.

Keep going. Even if it’s your third yellow notice. Especially then.