I’d always had the unshakeable belief that homeownership was the path to financial stability and adult happiness.
For years, I crunched Zillow numbers and filled out spreadsheets while fantasizing about a nice backyard with a rose garden where I could relax.
So, once I had enough money saved and the right house came along, I jumped at the opportunity.
I became the proud owner of a $245,000 home in Texas at age 24 with my earnings from a successful lifestyle blog that I’d launched at 20. It felt like I’d pulled off the ultimate adult-flex.
In the early weeks, I couldn’t stop posting photos of my home and keys on social media. I organized a housewarming party that was one for the books.
As soon as the newness wore off, though, I started noticing cracks — on the walls and in my sense of freedom.
I was so certain that homeownership was what I wanted that I failed to account for one very important thing: I was 24 and still figuring out who I was.
I bought a house too far from the city
Before purchasing the house, I rented a one-bedroom apartment, close to Houston’s Museum District.
While I appreciated the proximity to small cafés, art shops, and shopping centers, I desired some quiet and solitude. So, the house I bought wasn’t close to the city center.
I figured that with a car, I’d still get around. However, I underestimated how much the distance would affect my daily life.
Whenever I needed to get to nearby cities for the art scenes, parks, film festivals, or simply to experience some city buzz, I’d have to travel an hour or more each way.
While I loved the quiet that came with my new home, the sprawl quickly made me feel isolated.
I went longer periods without seeing my loved ones because most people said I lived too far, and I wasn’t willing to be the only one making the trips.
I also started missing the city life that came with walking into random coffee shops, trying out new restaurants, or meeting friends on a whim.
Maintaining a home was more relentless than I’d thought
When I bought the house, it needed some repairs, which I didn’t mind.
For example, some windows needed to be resealed, cabinet handles needed to be replaced, and the outside needed a paint touch-up. Turns out, that was just the beginning.
Within the first year, I also had to replace the water heater, pay for plumbing blockages, and reseal parts of the roof that were leaking. Those repairs were an additional $3,000 that I wasn’t expecting.
More surprises included the $6,000 annual property taxes and the high cost of utilities during Houston’s cold seasons. Then, there was the time I didn’t have electricity for well over three weeks after a huge tree fell on my power lines.
I knew I’d face challenges now and then, but I didn’t know how relentless maintaining a home would be, or how lonely managing it would feel in my mid-20s while most of my peers were renting apartments and swapping roommates.
More than once, I questioned my decision to buy the home.
Eventually, I started fantasizing about moving
Not long after buying, I no longer felt empowered; I just felt stuck.
I couldn’t even take an extended vacation for a break because I had no one to watch over the house while I was gone.
Because I had spent a significant amount of time on the repairs, I worried about things like the pipes bursting, or a storm knocking the power out, causing the sump pump to fail, which would ultimately flood the basement.
Maybe I was overthinking it, but I couldn’t just unplug and go; there was always something to worry about, and no landlord to call for quick fixes. I was self-dependent.
So, finally, after two years of going back and forth, I decided to sell.
After repairs and upgrades, I listed the home for $325,000, thinking I could put the profits toward a year of rent while I figured out other projects like expanding my blog into a multimedia website, or creating digital products for sale.
However, it was 2022, and the market in my region had cooled. My home stayed on the listings for about eight months.
Despite my optimism, no serious offers came my way. Lowball inquiries trickled in, but they weren’t near what I hoped for. I even brought down the asking price to $280,000, but had tough luck.
My only feasible option became renting, but even that wasn’t easy
I spent months listing my home for rent on platforms like Zillow and Facebook Marketplace.
I uploaded professional photos and posted virtual tours. I also advertised to friends and family through word of mouth.
After all that, I found a willing tenant to pay $2,600 a month, which gave me the ability to relocate. By then, the house had already shaped most of my 20s.
Finding a tenant was bittersweet. Although I felt relief, it was sad that my home didn’t work out how I expected.
I vividly remember the night I was packing to move out: I knew I would be OK, but I still couldn’t shake the pit in my stomach that wouldn’t go away.
I still rent my house while living a life I love abroad
I have no plans of putting the house back on the market because renting has offered an extra source of income. Maybe someday I’ll buy another home, but probably not anytime soon.
Today, I’m 30, and I enjoy the life of a digital nomad. I’ve spent the last year living in Berlin, and my tenant and I have worked out an amazing rental agreement that keeps us both happy.
They get a stable home, and I get the freedom to live anywhere I desire. I’ve realized freedom, not property, is what I value most in this season of my life.
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