Even from an early age, I was good with money. My parents weren’t particularly finance-focused—Mom hunted garage sale bargains, Dad worked overtime at his blue-collar job to keep life comfortable, but that was about it. I spent lots of time with my Depression-era grandparents who knew how to pinch pennies. My grandmother’s advice stuck: “pay yourself first.”

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I couldn’t make it past basic math in school. I tried hard, but it just wouldn’t click. I was stuck in remedial math classes, including one that basically taught students how to balance checkbooks and pay bills. Turns out that was more valuable than calculus.

While I was naturally good at saving, what shot me into orbit was getting kicked out at 17 for being gay. That experience shaped my entire approach to wealth building.

The Vulnerability That Changed Everything

Being kicked out at 17 put me in an exceptionally vulnerable position that my parents still don’t understand today. I was determined to finish high school while working part-time as a grocery store bagger for spending money. The older guy who let me crash in his spare bedroom was generous, but he had serious mental health struggles that eventually got pushed onto me. I had few resources and was trying to keep my head above water as a 17-year-old kid.

This forced me to mature fast and laser-focus on money as the key to escaping these problems. I knew that if I wanted to get out of my situation, wealth building and a clear path to financial independence was the only option I had. After graduating from high school, I quit the grocery store job (goodbye to that one-hour roundtrip commute for minimum wage, driving a car that consumed more oil than gas). I started working full-time at Target while saving what I could and enrolled in that EMT course that would change my life.

Money became my path to safety. Never again would someone have power over me because I couldn’t afford to leave.

The Aggressive Wealth Building Years

When I moved to the West Coast making around $100k per year, my wealth building strategy was simple: live like I still made $15/hour. I never skipped meals, but I didn’t eat in luxury either. Most food was generic store brands that I prepared myself. Fast food was a rare treat.

I drove beater cars as long as mechanically possible. First a well-used Toyota that died after about a year, then a Ford Mustang that had been driven by a little old lady with hardly any miles on it. I drove that thing for years until repair costs became ridiculous, then traded it in during Cash for Clunkers. My next car was a 2009 Honda Accord that I drove until 2024—loved that reliable workhorse.

I had my splurge priorities though. In my last four years living in the city, I paid $2,500/month to live without roommates. I don’t have the roommate personality, and after everything I’d been through, I needed my own space. When I transferred to the satellite office, I moved into a studio apartment for $1,200/month—cutting my housing costs in half while escaping state income taxes.

I was shoveling money into my 403b, Roth IRA, and after-tax savings as fast as possible. I remember hitting my first $100,000 net worth just before turning 30 and feeling absolutely ecstatic. Look at me! Six figures! During my peak earning years, making $120-180k, I was saving everything above basic living expenses.

The Magic of Wealth Building Through Compound Growth

It felt incredible to wake up each day (I worked nights, so markets were closed when I woke up) and see my net worth had jumped hundreds or thousands of dollars overnight. A perpetual money-making machine, as ChooseFI calls it. What a confidence booster—maybe things really would be okay after all.

Eventually, my contributions were dwarfed by market growth. The slow grind was hard at first, but it went faster than expected. I had some money invested in VTSAX and BRK.B thanks to Bogleheads and the old FatWallet forum. Even during the Great Recession, I trusted that the market would rebound if I was willing to wait it out—and I was right.

I hit my FI number of $1 million on November 16, 2020. Much of it was tied up in retirement accounts, but I’d done it.

The Psychological Prison

Here’s what nobody tells you about FI: having “F-you money” doesn’t automatically free you from toxic situations. I stayed in that destructive work environment for years after hitting my number because I was afraid to leave (I wrote more about toxic workplace dynamics and why leaving isn’t always simple). What if I never found something better? What if the market crashed? What if I needed more money than I thought?

Classic abuse victim mentality—the same psychology that keeps people trapped in bad relationships kept me trapped at work. Having money didn’t cure the deeper fear that had been planted when my parents abandoned me at 17.

The Secrecy Tax

I’m a private person, so I kept my finances completely secret. None of my friends, coworkers, or family knew how I was doing financially. While I wished I could celebrate those milestones with people I cared about, I didn’t want to create friction.

I watched friends spend freely and tried to gently encourage saving and investing when appropriate. I didn’t feel jealous—if anything, I felt bad watching them buy themselves into situations where they’d feel trapped. They were trading their freedom for temporary pleasures while I was buying mine back, one index fund purchase at a time.

The Real Lesson

My biggest financial mistake was buying a condo just before the Great Recession, then becoming an accidental landlord when I moved for work. But even that worked out eventually.

The real lesson? Money is freedom, but only if you’re psychologically ready to use it. I had enough to walk away years before I actually did. The hardest part wasn’t building the wealth—it was building the courage to trust that I’d built enough.

Never being under someone’s thumb again wasn’t just about the money. It was about believing I deserved better and having the guts to demand it.