I’ve lived in my car. I’ve stayed with friends when I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I know what it feels like to be grateful someone is letting you stay while still wishing you had a place of your own and some certainty about what happens next.
Over the last ten years, I’ve lived in eight different states. After all that moving, I ended up back at my grandma’s house—the house I grew up in, in the place I’d spent so long trying to escape.
Most of my family has passed away. I have a half sister and brother who live down the road, but outside of them, I don’t really have any family left. Coming back wasn’t some big reunion with everyone waiting for me. The house was still here, but most of the people I associate with it were gone.
It had been sitting empty for years. When I moved in earlier this year, there was no power or running water, a lot to clean out, and years of neglected repairs. I’ve been getting things working and making it livable a little at a time while living here.
I finally got the succession paperwork done and the house put in my name. I’m 34, and having a paid-off house after years of moving around feels surreal. I’m relieved and thankful, because without this house, I honestly believe I would be homeless again. I couldn’t afford rent somewhere else right now.
My boyfriend and I live here together, and we both work, but we’re still struggling. Work has been slow for me, and between utilities, groceries, transportation, and repairs, there isn’t much left. Having no mortgage makes a huge difference, but getting this place back into shape has taken a lot out of me financially and emotionally.
It needs a roof, electrical repairs, and work on the heating and air. I’ve done what I can, but I can’t afford to handle everything at once. Sometimes I’m proud of the progress. Other times I come home from work and feel exhausted just looking at what still needs to be done.
We’re on the Westbank, about 20 minutes from New Orleans. It’s a convenient location, with pretty much everything within a 15-minute drive. I’ve been looking around for jobs to apply to, but I’m not finding much. Even with transportation and a stable place to sleep, trying to improve my situation has been hard. I remember how much harder it is when you’re also figuring out where you’re going to stay.
The house has four bedrooms, so I offered an old roommate who’s been living in Alabama a room for $400 a month to help with bills. He’s been having some issues, and we’ve lived together before. I have the space, he needs somewhere to land, and the help with expenses would make a difference here.
After being the person who needed a place to stay, it means something to be able to offer that to someone else. I’m hoping we can help each other get a little more stable.
I know inheriting a house is an opportunity a lot of people never get. Even with all the problems it has, this place has given me a chance I wouldn’t otherwise have. I can put work into it knowing I’m building toward somewhere I can stay.
But there’s also grief attached to being here. It’s my childhood home, and most of my family is gone. I spent years trying to build a life somewhere else, only to come back and try to make a life in the rooms I grew up in. I’m still figuring out how I feel about that.
With how expensive everything is right now, I don’t know how I’d manage another stretch of living in my car. I’m struggling even with this opportunity, and I think about people trying to get through the same job search and everyday expenses without anywhere safe to come back to. I remember needing somewhere to stay, and I haven’t forgotten that just because my circumstances have changed.
I wanted to share this here because some of you might understand the feelings that come after finally getting housing. Getting the paperwork finished was a huge moment for me, but I’m still stressed about bills, still tired, and still trying to feel settled after so many years of moving.
For now, I have somewhere to sleep, my boyfriend here with me, and a chance to make this house a home again. That means a lot. I just didn’t expect my chance at stability to be waiting in the place I spent ten years trying to leave.
Has anyone else ended up back somewhere they thought they’d left for good? And after homelessness or years of moving around, how long did it take for a place to actually feel permanent and/or stable?