I was in some form of debt for nearly 20 years.

The last three years of my life have been dedicated to radical debt eradication.

I didn’t realize it at the time – but debt was kind of like my baby.

I thought about it constantly.

I would strategize about how to pay it down.

I would run numbers in my head.

I had a running calculation everytime I spent money.

Or made money.

I was obsessed.

This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

It kept me passionate.

It kept me focused.

It provided momentum and motivation.

For years.

And then…  all of a sudden it was over.

Being debt-free doesn’t feel like what I had imagined.

Nothing is left.

No problem to be solved.

I don’t owe anything anymore.

There is such a foreign sense of relief.

And, at the same time, there’s a sense of confusion – almost a lack of identity.

What the hell am I going to think about now?

Who am I – if I’m not trying to pay off this debt?

I wasn’t expecting this experience on the other side of debt.

I was expecting huge relief. A feeling of abundance and freedom.

And don’t get me wrong. Those were there too.

But what I really felt like…

Was I had just landed at the arrival gate for a fabulous trip.

And I had lost my luggage.

There’s a thrill of having everything gone.

Knowing that I can replace it all with new bright and shiny things.

I could replace the old faded sundresses.

And the pair of heels with nicks on the straps.

I could replace the worn out sweater.

The jacket that’s been washed too many times.

But, there’s a sense of strange loss.

Even when you lose things that you don’t want anymore.

These things had defined me.

They were my story for so long.

And then they were gone.

And by losing them on purpose.

I had set myself free to find a new story.

Free to choose my own life.

I did not need this luggage.

I didn’t even want it.

I was just so used to carrying it.

And for the first time – I was allowed to put it down.

Leave it behind.

And walk straight into my future.

What I’ve realized:

I have lost my luggage. On purpose.

And I am free to travel without my old shoddy past.

I am free to choose new things.

I am free to choose new stories.

I am free to travel.

Without baggage.

And that.

Is sweet freedom.

This post was originally published on www.meadowdevor.com

Photo credit

Hundreds of people emailed, commented, tweeted and direct messaged me after this post asking to hear more of my story.

The number one question: How did you do it? How did you pay off $571,817.68 in less than 3 years?

The answer to paying off debt is pretty simple.

1. Stop using credit.
2. Earn more than you spend.
3. Use the extra earnings to pay off debt.

It’s not romantic. It’s not complicated. It’s actually very straight forward.

I, however, do not typically do things the easy or simple way.

In hindsight, I can see that the first year of my “debt repayment program” wasn’t debt repayment at all. It was more like debt shuffling. I made a few tough decisions and made good progress toward paying off my debt. But, I continued to use credit cards. And I continued to earn less than I was spending.

Until I hit rock bottom. And had to reconcile with what I had done. And come to terms with the fact that the only person who could save me… was me.

In January 2009 – my debts in order of highest to lowest:

• $385,452.12 – Mortgage on my house
• $146,191.47 – Mortgage on my rental property
• $12,550.75 – Equity line on house
• $10,412.01 – United Mileage Plus credit card
• $9,831.32 – MBNA credit card
• $7,380.01 – my car loan to Subaru

First up: Selling my House

Most people (myself included) do not want to sell a house that is upside-down.

I had bought this house at the top of the market. My payments were over $37,000 a year – and the value of the house was plummeting.

If I stayed in the house and made payments for 3 more years – I was looking at another $100,000 in payments – I knew there was no way the market would make up for that loss. I had already paid several hundred thousand dollars into this house and it made me sick to think of continuing to throw money at the problem. I was paying to lose.

I asked myself if I would buy that house for what I owed. The answer was no. It wasn’t worth it.

I asked myself if I would rent my house for the price of the monthly mortgage. The answer was no.

So I decided to sell and cut my losses.

I listed the house at a break-even price. No offers.

One week later, I dropped the price $10k. Nothing.

The following week, I dropped the price another $10k. Nothing.

I knew that if I kept dropping the price – I would eventually find a buyer. I didn’t focus on how much money I was ‘losing.’ You can’t lose money that doesn’t exist. The money ‘lost’ on my house was fictional. All I was losing was a story. And I was willing to lose that story.

I focused instead on how much debt I’d be able to pay off. I focused instead on the burden that would be off my back. I focused on the freedom of not being stuck to a house. To a mortgage.

I dropped the price another $10k. And then another.

Finally, there was a buyer and a quick escrow. I ended up taking out a personal loan to cover the difference. At the close of escrow, the mortgage and the equity line were paid off.

In exchange, I had a $25,000 personal loan. To me, that was a tiny (albeit painful) price to pay to be able to unload almost $400k in debt. (You can read “Saying Goodbye to Nancy” the post I wrote after making my final payment on that personal loan.)

Next up: The Rental Property

The rental property was also upside-down. It was a tiny condo in a town with sewer and zoning issues. Plus, during the time I had owned it – an incredibly ugly storage unit complex was built – blocking a once-beautiful view. What used to be a cute little courtyard now looked like the backside of a strip mall. Due to the new mortgage restrictions, the small square footage for this unit wouldn’t qualify for a standard loan. My accountant suggested short-selling.

Even though short selling was a gigantic pain in the ass, I am grateful that I had that option and that my long-time tenant was able to buy the condo for a fair price. It was a win for everyone involved.

Next in Line: Credit Cards

Even though I wanted to be debt free – I hadn’t even come close to committing to a debt-free lifestyle. Throughout 2009 – I continued to rack up credit card debt. I had just left my husband, I wasn’t working much and I treated my credit cards like a fancy little back-up plan. I was owed a final payment ($78,000) on a business I had previously sold and figured I’d use that money to just wipe everything clean. So, I racked up almost a year’s living expense in debt – and counted on a promise of future cash to make it all better.

Not a good idea.

I spent money I didn’t have. And I planned on paying it all back with money I didn’t have.

In late 2009, I was notified that I would not be receiving the expected payment. That the man who owed me money was in financial trouble and on the brink of bankruptcy. (Believe me – I didn’t miss the irony. Karma’s a bitch.)

We settled on a fraction of the total amount owed – and I used that money to pay off my car.

The Turning Point

Up until this point, I was basically just moving debt around. I still wasn’t taking responsbility for how I was spending or what I was earning. I had made some difficult choices – but I hadn’t completely committed to being debt free. To living a cash-based life.

It wasn’t until the end of 2009 that I really realized what I had done to myself. The enormity of living beyond on my means for so many years. The dysfunctional relationship I had with money. My habit of minimizing and justifying and pretending.

It took losing my ass on both of my houses, being broke for a year, waiting to be saved by balloon payment and then realizing that it was gone. The reality of what I owed and what I was going to need to do to turn my financial life around finally hit me.

I made a vow. Stop using credit cards. Stop renting money. Live within my means. And pay off debt. For reals. I made a commitment to myself to get out of debt and never go back.

The first month is always the hardest. I completely stopped using rented money. (Click here to read my take on rented money.) I began paying for my past AND my present.

This is when my Radical Debt Eradication plan came into place. I sold everything that I could sell. Furniture, handbags, clothes, jewelry etc. and put the cash towards my debt.

I started working 3 jobs – and made a commitment to keep working like a mad woman until my debt was paid off.

I lowered my overhead, eliminating as much as possible from my monthly expenses.

I completely changed my relationship with money, using the tools that I wrote about in my book Money Love. (I’d like to give you a free copy. Please click here to download.)

I liquidated my retirement accounts, paid the tax penalty and used the rest to pay off debt.

For the remainder of the balances I made payments of $3000 to $5000 a month until they were paid off. Every single month – I could have taken a vacation to a tropical resort or bought a new MacBook Pro with the amount of money that I was spending trying to clean up my past-self’s irresponsible choices.

And, every single month – I saw those balances drop. There were many months where it seemed daunting. Maybe even impossible or never-ending. There were months where huge unforeseen expenses showed up. A car engine that blew up and the subsequent 3-month-stay in a repair shop. A custody battle. Attorneys fees. Things that I would have previously charged without even blinking.

This time, though, credit wasn’t an option. And without that option, I found that I was way stronger and way more resourceful than I had ever given myself credit for.

I hustled. I worked my ass off. I stayed true to my vow. I stayed loyal to my commitments. And it worked. I paid it off.

I’m one week into my new debt-free life and it’s so much better than I ever thought it would be.

It’s funny. All week, I keep catching myself habitually thinking “I have to pay for this. I have to pay for that.” Running the calculations in my head like I’ve done for the past few years. And then I smile and realize. I already did. I paid it. It’s over.

There’s nothing.

Nothing.

As good as knowing it’s over.

This article was originally published on MeadowDeVor.com.

Even more poignant. I am debt free today.

On the first anniversary of my blog.

And no, I’m not talking about houses here.

I’m talking about your money.

I’m talking about my money.

Do you own your money? Or do you rent your money?

For the past 19 years, I’ve been renting my money.

For the past 19 years, I’ve been in debt in one way or another. Car loans, students loans, credit cards, mortgages, equity lines, business loans, and personal loans.

For the past 19 years, I’ve been paying other people for the privilege (seriously makes me want to gag) to rent their money.

Chase United Mileage Plus card offered me a deal to rent their money. And as a bonus for renting, I got a few miles and ended up taking a few trips that required me to rent even more money.

Fannie Mae made me a deal to rent their money. I rented their money and lived in a house. I used to call that owning a house but the truth is: I never owned it. I rented the money so that I could live there. Fannie Mae owned the house and they owned the money that I used to stay there.

So here’s what is interesting about renting money…

Until I am debt free – I’m still renting.

Even though I’m no longer using credit cards.

Even though I’m paying off my debt.

Even though I’m kinda militant about the evils of finance charges. And tell every check stand clerk that offers me 15%-off-if-I-open-a-card-today my opinion of what they are doing.

I’m still using.

Just like a junkie in tenement housing.

I’m still using someone else’s money. Paying to rent.

The dollars in my bank account are owed to someone else. They are not mine. I do not own them.

This gives me a very honest perspective on whether or not I should pay money for something or not.

I don’t want to rent money anymore.

I want the dollars that I earn to be mine.

I want to own them.

I want to be able to determine what I do with them.

I don’t want Bank of America or Chase or anyone else in the private life of my money. These institutions are the financial equivalent to a slumlord.

Slumlords get their name by offering a crappy place to live and making money off of other people’s misfortune. (No different than credit card companies.) Slumlords offer initial low rent to lure tenants who will not or cannot pay high rents due to lack of funds or faulty background checks. Slumlords then profit off the dependency of the tenant while continuing to raise the rent. They prey on tenants who believe they cannot live elsewhere.

Credit card companies prey off of our weakness when it comes to instant gratification. They offer us nothing except an offer to pay for renting. They profit enormously from the dependency that they create.

I’m done with this.

If I want to buy something right now – all I have to do is remind myself that the slumlord is paying for it. And that immediately sets me straight.

I don’t want the slumlord to pay for my stuff anymore.

I don’t want the slumlord to be in my life at all.

I’m paying the slumlord off. And I’m moving out.

To a place where I own my own money.

Talk about emancipation, baby.

Freedom.

There’s nothing better.

This post was originally published on MeadowDeVor.com.