Moving out at a young age
Moving into my first apartment nearly 8 years ago was no big deal. Hiring movers and making the first big step into adulthood wasn’t as difficult as everyone made it seem. Just about all of my furniture were hand-me-downs from family or stuff I was bringing along, and when moving into an apartment there isn’t too much else to take care of since first, you’re not expecting everything to be perfect, and two, much of that stuff is someone else’s responsibility.
I lived in this place for a few years and I still have fond memories of it today because it was large and clean for the price, the area was a “nice” ghetto in that it was very green, close to the waterfront, and a quiet area. It was also during this time that I met my girlfriend and we started to build a relationship together, and we would spend the nights there making romantic dinners, watching shows or doing other things. This is also the time when we were very young so we had some interesting parties and get-togethers there, and that was when I could still drink some alcohol without feeling out of it or sick to my stomach like I do today!
These were fun times and it was also a time of less responsibility in a sense; I had most of my expenses to pay for and I was going to school full-time but at that time I was working fairly random jobs and there’s not too much mental stress in moving boxes around or things like that. In fact, looking back I wish I had taken at least the early years more seriously, though I had shaped up somewhat by the time I made it to university. I can thank my girlfriend for playing a big part in that as well as my grandmother for making it possible for me to go.
The downsides were that this place had absolutely no security whatsoever (the front door was usually left wide open) and it became more and more ghetto over time because the rent was very cheap and the law prevented the owners from raising the rent very much. It really went downhill when my old neighbours moved out and new ones moved in. They were barely out of their teens and already had two kids with a third on the way, and they smoked pot and drank alcohol all of the time. If it was just for social occasions that would be fine, but not all of the time and not around kids! The walls were paper-thin so I would always hear them yelling and hear the walls banging, because either they were fighting or they were #*@!ing. I would always smell the pot.
There wasn’t much the landlord could do or maybe he just didn’t care, and many visits by the cops didn’t really change anything. I was about to head overseas on an exchange trip, anyways, so I gave notice and left that place behind, never to look back.
Lessons I learned from this experience
It is very easy to afford living on your own, if you can find a nice ghetto area like I did that is ghetto only because the residents are poor, not because it’s dangerous. I don’t say poor to demean anyone since I was poor myself at the time; I was going through school and while my grandmother was there for me there was only so much burden I could place on her, which meant that I had to cover the rest myself. I learned a lot of lessons about self-responsibility and independence in this way.
Poverty doesn’t mean deprivation. I’m sure I was under whatever poverty line the government had concocted, but I had a TV, a computer, internet, shelter, clothing, etc… and the area was green and sunny. I had a nice bikepath to ride my bike on, and I even had a car. I wouldn’t go back there today since I didn’t know very much about finances and I was living almost paycheck to paycheck, but even back then food was one of my lowest expenses and I was able to cover almost everything; I didn’t have to worry about student loan forgiveness since I didn’t take out a student loan, and though I was in no need of debt reduction, if not for the car I probably even could have saved money. For much of this period I was earning somewhere between minimum wage and 1.5x minimum wage.
There were downsides, of course. While I didn’t have it that bad, there are a lot of things that I missed out on. It would have been nice to have had more family support; I could potentially have gotten better grades if I didn’t have the burden of having to live on my own and work on the side; I think just doing interships would already have been good experience.
I could also have had the cultural benefit of travelling to various places while young, which I never ended up doing until I did my overseas exchange to South Korea three years ago. Finally, I could have built up some savings during this time instead of spending thousands of dollars each year on various living expenses.
In the end though, I don’t regret this period of my life one bit. It was a period when I was going from a rough phase to a better phase, and many things improved for me during this time. It helped to build the foundation to get to where I am today, and hopefully I can continue onwards. Life is long and while some things are not the same when you’re a bit older, I still have plenty of time to see the rest of the world and explore and do the things I always wanted to do!
This was originally going to be a post on lessons learned while moving, but then I remembered my early experiences and started reminiscing! So, reader, when did you first fly from the nest, and what were your own first experiences?
Kevin,
Great post! I moved out at a fairly young age as well. I bought my first condo @ the age of 24 (almost 25) and been living on my own for a while now, not as long as you though. I enjoy it a lot. It has thought me tons, such as cooking for my self, laundury, home reno’s, self independence and above all, become more finacially responsible.
Learning self reliance early in the game is a big positive.
When I move away from home (long long ago) after 2 1/2 yrs of art school, my mother was extremely upset: in those days and in her family, females NEVER left home unless they were getting married. Those early days in NY were some of the best and most fun I’ve had:
http://savvysavingbytes.com/2010/11/moving-to-nyc-plum-job-tiny-salary-and-a-flasher/
Nice post! It brought back memories for me of days in graduate housing at the University. Bookcases were cinder blocks and plywood. Entertainment was getting together with friends to play “Risk” or everybody contributing towards crabs and beer and setting up a volleyball net. You don’t need a lot of money to be “rich”.
We are all the sum of our experiences! If your experience motivates you more to succeed, that is good. I enjoyed my struggling and building days, it affects me throughout my life. When things become easier and you start to achieve some of your dreams, it is easy to become complacent.
“Nice” ghetto isn’t something you hear very often, but I understand entirely what you mean: mostly working-class slums. No one is getting killed in gang violence, but no one is worth a million bucks, either.
I think experiences like these are truly investments in who you are. Having lived on your own, and having seen the perils and the tendencies of the people who make up such an area, you almost learn by osmosis what NOT to do with your time and your money.
I’m in school and I’m always sure to thank my parents for the opportunity to live at home. While it isn’t the most glamorous thing, it helps keep my stresses low and allows me the flexibility to go to school and work without excessively straining my budget and paying for college in cash.
By the end of four years, I’ll have zero college debt and a nice stockpile of cash for a fat down payment for a home of my own. Living at home is a sacrifice I’m willing to make, and I try my hardest to make sure it isn’t a sacrifice my parents have to make.
My parents helped out quite a bit when I was going to school, but we did live in the “ghetto.” The college town next to the campus is filled with students. I guess I can’t really call it a ghetto. There are always parties, beer, pot, and that kind of stuff going on every night, but that’s just because everyone was young.
It was a lot of fun, but I wouldn’t want to live there now. Grew up and moved on.
For me, I would consider moving out as being when I went away to college. It was not in the local area, and was 5 hours away. So, moving into a freshman dorm at the age of 18 was when I first lived away from home. I did come back for a couple of summers, and for a while after graduation, but then I left.
At 23, I had my own apartment several hours away from my parents. I took a job there, and thought it would be easy and fun to have my own place. I managed it, but it was not super easy getting adjusted to living on my own away from family. However, I spent money on a small 1-bedroom apartment but it was in a nice part of town, so the safety aspect was not a concern. I had a health club nearby, shopping, etc.
The big thing was actually living alone. Even in college, I always had roommates. Actually, I lived in a fraternity, so it was pretty crazy at times there. Always fun things happening. To go from that to living all by myself was tough, but it taught me some independence. I did all my cooking and cleaning, paying the bills, buying groceries, etc. Good life experience that helped me grow while making me tougher.
Also, that experience taught me that one doesn’t need tons of space to live. Now, with kids…sure, more space is needed. But we can live just fine in someplace which isn’t a McMansion.
Hey Kevin,
I used to place housesitting ads so I wouldn’t have to pay rent. I’ll bet that doesn’t surprise you! I was 27 when I gave up my last housesitting gig. I banked money while someone else paid the housing costs. Yeah, I was different.
I grew up in a poor area, went to college, and got married a week after graduation, which landed us in a shabby apartment (but in a nice town).
I loved that apartment. It was on a golf course and had some play areas too. We used to play frisbee all the time, have some beer, go for walks, go swimming at the pool. The apartment itself was nothing special, but I truly loved it there. Maybe it is because it is where I truly started ‘my’ life.
Great post Kevin, thanks for the memories!
I moved to another continent when I was 18. Little bit of a culture shock but well worth it in the end.
I moved out first time on my own when I was … 31! It is a long story and a different culture but when I finally moved out I could afford to live ONLY in ghetto. And boy was it not nice ghetto! My gilfriends refused to come and visit me because they were afraid of my neighbors. 🙂 I stayed there for a year and was just fine. I wouldn’t do it again but I desperately wanted to be on my own.
I moved out of the nest about 3 years ago, and I’m starting to realize what a big deal that was. I’m easily surviving on my own now and I’m paying off all my debts. Soon, I’ll buy a place and be living better than ever before because of the discipline that I’ve had.
Several dates to think about … I moved out at 18 into company-provided camp housing (I was working in the Middle East at the time), and got my first apartment at 21, in a not-so-nice-area of the SF Bay Area (Oakland). The goings on by the colorful characters at the apartment complex would make the subject of a few interesting posts on poor life choices. Many lessons, such as be sure to put a padlock or an inside lock on the hood of your older model car, or your battery will eventually get stolen. And give a wide berth to large men that talk to themselves in a loud voice and wave their arms a lot.
I’d say my first real “moving out” experience is what would have been my junior year of college. I spent the first two years in the dorms at a private school in the midwest, come my third year I had dropped out of that school and moved on to a community college down the road. 2 friends and I decided to rent an apartment. my rent came out of money made from my summer internship, and money I made doing work for that same company over the internet. (they were on the east coast, me in the midwest) Because of this I didn’t have to take out any student loans to pay for my rent. I did rack up a little bit on my credit cards but unlike my friends who took out student loans to cover their cost of living, I have no student loans to my name as of this date, and one of them has student loans in the 6 figures!
I learned frugality then. And although I relapsed when I got my first full time job, and full time paychecks, I’m getting back to that place where I don’t need someone else’s money to help me pay for what I want and what I need. I really do miss those times because they seemed a little more carefree, but I am also very happy with where I am today!
Thanks for sharing this story. I remember the first time I learned what the government’s poverty line was at, and it really took me aback. I was under that line, and I felt quite content in my situation. So, I can really relate to your sentiment that “Poverty doesn’t mean deprivation.”
Sometimes it is a rough start that molds you into the successful person you become. you are who you are today partially because of what you went through in your past. I am glad you don’t regret this period of your life.
Ahhh, college days! We got a bunch of guys together and rented a house in the getto. We each only paid a bit less than $200 a month. It actually was a pretty good deal for the landlord if one would add it all up.
Oh, I had a roommate that earned the nickname “Hemp”! Needless to say, I wasn’t at the house much.
Later I got luck and ended up getting a small bachelors pad on the end of a rich neighborhood, but for a cheap price! It was the size of a big bedroom, but it was perfect for me!
I miss those days too, but I don’t want to go back…
I lived on my own right after college in NYC. Shared a studio with another fella. Expensive when first starting out!
I left my home just at the age of 16 and started working . But believe me today when I calculate monthly expenditures than I remember my dad . How I used to waste money but he never said anything ….. Maybe we always learn lesson when everything is finished …
I moved out when I was 19 and it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I moved out of a valley town to a beach community. I will never forget driving down the freeway next to Mercedes and BMWs and thinking, where do these people get all this money. There was low crime, no graffiti, no smog and everyone was happy and friendly. I could go to a party and talk to girls, without getting beaten up. I would surf and tan between going to work and college. It was like moving to heaven.
The financial part wasn’t so easy. Being a poor kid with a ghetto attitude wasn’t ideal in an affluent community. Trying to buy a house near the beach was almost impossible. But, I had a lot of persistance and I made it work. The experience of making it on my own was invaluable.
Great post Kevin! This article gave me a chuckle, in a good way, a flashback.
I have good memories of starting out on my own and I often reflect upon those days and think about how far I’ve come and learned. Our place in university was a mess; tons of parties, hundreds of beer bottles after weekend aftermaths, cigarette butts everywhere, new faces in the living room passed out on the floor the next day; I don’t know how we survived!
Then again, looking back, I probably could have lived in that house forever 😉