Nope, this one isn’t carried in the back of my truck. It has a real foundation, solid walls, electricity, a washer and dryer! You know… REAL HOUSE things. And… it’s ALL mine. 🤯
And as soon as I moved in, I began to feel something I never expected.
First of all, I’m 41, and this is the first house I’ve ever bought. I’ve never been a homeowner before. In all my years of post-parent’s-house-adult life, I have explored absolutely every other option (besides owning a house) on the spectrum of living somewhere, including:
- Renting short-term
- Renting long-term
- Sleeping on people’s couches or in extra bedrooms for free
- Being completely home-free (nomadic) with only a storage unit (and sleeping in houses, hotels, hostels, Airbnbs, tents…) for years on end
- Living with other families in other countries
- Having roommates
- Not having roommates
- Living with a partner, and still renting
- Living in a TRUCK
In all those years, one thing was always present in my body and mind: an underlying knowing that “this is temporary.” No matter what type of accommodation it was, even my long term rentals (the longest of which was 4 years that one time when I was married). I always knew I wouldn’t stay wherever I was.
Along with that knowing came a constant stress, a ticking clock, understanding that at some point I would have to figure out a new situation. In my world, that very often meant moving everything into storage, again.
It’s very unsettling.
You might wonder why, as a constant, long-term traveler, having to move so much would be unsettling to me. I travel all the time and stay gone for months on end, isn’t my entire life unsettling?
Fair point. And yes, it is.
But yes, even with my lifestyle of travel, the knowing “this is temporary” has always caused me some amount of stress. Sometimes it’s every day, like when I lived in my truck and didn’t have a home that wasn’t on wheels for over a year. Sometimes it wasn’t so constant. But it was there.
And at the same time, even with that amount of constant stress, however small, I always had a fear that buying a house would “tie me down” in more ways than one. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s being tied down. Hi, I’m Traveling Jackie. I’m a Sagittarius. I don’t do tied down.
The last thing I wanted was to sign myself up for something that appeared to be quite stressful and competitive, not to mention super expensive, only to then render myself unable to afford to continue traveling. That’s not me.
I could never in my right mind and willingly put myself in a position where I would not be free to travel.
On the other hand, I’ve also always had a goal to own a house “one day.” My own private little corner of the universe. With whom I would do that (because I wouldn’t ever be able to do that on my own, would I?), or what country or state that house would be in, I never knew. These were two of the banana peels on my path to actual homeownership.
Speaking of the path… in order to see where it has taken me, I invite you to take the following two detours (in order) before coming back to the present and finally understanding why the words “Rice Cooker 3.0” are included in the title of this post:
- The Real Reason I Left Colorado (the famous old rice cooker post)
- Rice Cooker 2.0
Back to the present. Jackie in 2026.
I wasn’t looking to buy. Not this year, for reasons I came up with and thought were solid. Welp, turns out the Universe, or maybe it was my house, thought otherwise.
How it happened
Exactly two years ago, I moved out of my truck camper and officially into a house with walls made of wood. The place landed in my lap through a friend who lived there already, and who became an amazing roommate the past couple years (I actually originally got to know her through my very own JUMP trips – total magic). It was the perfect situation for me. Perfect right up until I realized I was ready to live alone again.
With buying a place decidedly “off the table,” I looked at rentals, for many, many months. Also, I’m picky. I had a list of all the things I wanted in my new place, and I was specific:
- Windows all around
- Bathtub
- Garage that fits Nejmeh (Nejmeh is my truck camper)
- Gas stove
- A/C
- Gas fireplace
- All house walls to myself
- Views
- Quiet neighborhood & respectful neighbors
- Lots of space on the street
- Upper balcony
- LIGHT. LOTS OF LIGHT
- Driveway facing east or south
- Room for grill
- Everything outside taken care of (snow removal, lawn care)
Most important on this list, make or break, were having all walls to myself (I was tired of listening to my duplex neighbor visit the bathroom and stomp up and down the stairs), a garage that fits Nejmeh (one – I have a lot of toys, and two – I want to be able to park inside for snow storms and travel), and having everything outside taken care of (if it wasn’t included in the HOA, I’d have to find someone to pay to do it, because I can’t).
This type of place almost doesn’t exist at all, and pretty much also doesn’t exist within my budget, so I knew I would have to search patiently, and probably be willing to stretch my budget.
To my delight, two perfect places came up for rent at the same time. But in true Jackie fashion, I was busy frolicking around New Zealand and couldn’t act on either of them from so far away, and they both got rented before I came home.
One of them was more appealing to me (a gut feeling) than the other, and when I got home from New Zealand, I decided to take a drive through that neighborhood looking for “For Rent” signs to make sure I wasn’t missing any listings on the thousands of rental websites.
I didn’t find any “For Rent” signs, but I did find a “For Sale” sign… Hm. I literally saw the sign. I drove right to it and saw the sign. It doesn’t get much clearer than that, people.
Not three nights prior, I was at dinner with a group of girlfriends, one of whom is a real estate agent. I’d spent some time sharing with her exactly what I was looking for, in case she were to come across any rentals for me. I also told both my hockey teams and everyone else who would listen that I was in search of a new place, because you never know where you’re going to find a connection that’s meant for you.
After seeing the sign, I went home and found the listing online. I texted it to my realtor friend immediately with the words, “If only I was ready to buy right now.” I didn’t like the words even as I sent them, because somewhere inside I knew they weren’t true. I realized I sent those words in hopes that my friend would grant me permission to “just look at it anyway.” Nope. I’m not one to wait for permission to go after something I want. So, giving it to myself, I immediately texted her again, suggesting we go look at it anyway.
She set it up, and we were there for two hours the next day. Walking through every room, imagining what I could do with furniture. She’s known me for 15 years. She was actually one of the friends I stayed with for a couple summer months in Montana while I was nomadic. She knew what a big thing it was for me to be looking at a house.
I’ve never looked at a house before. But I also knew I didn’t need to look at any others. This house showed up for me. It ticked almost every single box on my list, seriously. Even the upper balcony. And the VIEWS… somehow I just knew this house was mine.
I made the decision to put in an offer, and everything from there was SO. EASY. Seriously, everything about this house buying process was so mind-blowingly easy for me, there was no further proof I needed that this house was mine. Everything. From finding it, to contracting my agent and getting our offer accepted, to getting a loan approved, ALL of it. Every bit of it, every step of the way. It absolutely blew my mind. Because nothing about any stories I’d heard from other people about buying a house said, “Oh it’s so easy!”
But, I am not other people. And their stories aren’t my story. And for me, it WAS easy. So easy that I never second-guessed it, just trusted that this is absolutely meant for me after all, right now, this year.
So, back to the point I started to make 2,000 words ago…
As soon as I moved in, I began to feel something I never expected.
I felt, and I feel… free.
Free from that constant stress of “where do I go next?” that I didn’t even realize was so heavy until I set it down. Free from the cage of having my living situation dictated by others. Free from the threat of having yet another home turned into an Airbnb and kicking me out (which happened to me in the height of the real estate market in 2022, which was what ultimately lead to me living in a truck…).
No more.
I am sure I won’t stay in this house forever, but guess what… for as long as I do want to stay, it’s mine, and I’m free to stay, until I give myself permission to leave. And, because I witness exactly how quickly the last place listed in my neighborhood got rented, I know I have options for the day I do decide to leave this house.
Roots
I’ve always been averse to what I call the ‘R’ and ‘S’ words (“Roots” and “Settle”). Roots aren’t easily moved. The idea of roots always made me feel trapped, held down.
But, I also first lived here in Montana back in 2004, when I was still a teenager. I had just returned from living in Costa Rica for a year, and I was at the very beginning of my travel lifestyle journey. I’ve now been living in Montana on and off for over 20 years. Which means, I have more than 20 years worth of community and history and home in this place, and that is absolutely magical for a traveler.
I finally see that roots are exactly what I’ve built here, and not only is there nothing inherently wrong with roots, but they are actually a very GOOD thing. Because I also understand that a tree can’t grow into its fullest, strongest self without also growing equally strong roots to counterbalance it, giving it the exact stability it needs to thrive. Solid roots allow one to withstand the worst of storms, and they provide necessary nutrients for life. Gee. I’d just never thought of it that way before. Roots don’t take away, they give.
I actually love that I have roots here, in a place I chose for myself.
With these roots, I’ve set myself free. To create my own cozy haven that no one can take from me. To stay as long as I want. To come and go as much as I need, because I know I’ll always have a home to come back to in this place that I can’t seem to stay away from, no matter how much or how far I travel.
Buying this house feels like the yin to my yang. A step toward the balance I’m constantly seeking.
Also, I did end up doing it alone. I bought a house by myself. That tracks, and I feel only more empowered for doing so. Just another leap of courage, par for my course, where I’m seeking my own path and learning the lessons meant for me. Because no one ever told me buying a house would set me free. But, no one else is living my story. And this one’s for me.
I can’t love this more for me right now, in this very phase of my life when I’m actually ready for it. Plus, I have views of my favorite mountains from multiple windows on both floors of my house. 😍
It took all those storage units and all those years of hauling everything I own in the back of my truck, and then even living out of my camper for a year, to get me to this place of not just acknowledging and accepting, but being truly grateful for my Roots. For this new version of freedom.
And for the record, I use my rice cooker all the time. I’m grateful for that, too. But I’m even more grateful that even 9 years ago when I first wrote the rice cooker post, I acknowledged that “There may be a time when having an apartment or house to call my own is the right step. But it is not this time. In fact, I’m nowhere near that time.” I left that time open for my future self. I gave myself permission even then to respect where I was, and leave room for who I would become.
Nearly a decade later, I’m in “that time.” And it feels so right.
I’m here for the home base that is all my own. I’m here for the roots. As for that ’S’ word though, I still don’t see that fully happening any time soon. Come on. I’m still Traveling Jackie. 💁🏻♀️🙃
Onward! (And surely to be continued…) 🥂
