My Dad Helped Me Buy a House. It Ruined Our Relationship.

This story is based on an interview with the editors of The Doe.

A couple of years ago, when I was in the middle of my PhD program, my dad gave me a hefty down payment to buy a house. It turned out to be one of the biggest regrets of my life. 

I was born in 1994, and grew up on this wealthy, touristy Gulf Coast island. My dad owned his own business for decades, building houses in the area. I didn’t really have any financial responsibility, and I was never told “no.” We lived in a small house around a lot of other richer families, so I didn't know we had money. But I have these memories of my mom picking me up from school and going to Target, and I could just walk in and get whatever I wanted. The day after I turned 16, I got a car. When I went to college, I did not take out student loans; my dad paid for everything and gave me a monthly allowance. I worked three jobs in college, but they were resume-builders; they weren’t determining whether I was going to eat or not.

Then I went to grad school. Again, my dad was paying out-of-pocket for my grad school and giving me an allowance and paying my rent. After I finished my Masters I started working full-time in Birmingham and was no longer supported by my dad. I was making maybe $43,000 and scraping by. My rent was $900 for a two-bedroom apartment, and that was half my income. I turned 26 right as I finished my Masters, so I immediately got kicked off my health insurance, as well. The real world kind of punched me in the throat. 

In June 2021, my dad bought me a condo in cash for $100,000 in Tuscaloosa. The condo was his way of helping me get through my PhD. But six months in, I was like, “This place sucks. I can't do this.” I was alone; I had full days when I didn’t speak to anyone. I also struggle with a lot of mental health issues. I wanted to move back to Birmingham. I was genuinely excited to be alive: I was properly medicated, and I had also recently left the church, so I felt a freedom I had never felt before. I felt unstoppable and on top of the world because I was telling myself, “You're in a Ph.D. program. You’re a bad bitch.” 

Because he’d bought me this house, my dad felt entitled to weigh in on my life.

That’s the moment when my dad was like, “I’m going to buy you a house.” He didn't buy it outright, but he provided a significant down payment. I absolutely rushed into it. We started looking for a house in early 2022, during the season where you could be offering $60,000 over asking price and it wasn't going to be enough. We ended up finding this house for $275,000 in a really great area of Hoover, Alabama. It was built in 1947. It had a beautiful stained glass window in the bathroom. My dad came over and inspected the house for me. He didn’t say it in these words, but he was trying to tell me that even though I could afford the mortgage, I couldn't afford the house. I mean, it needed a lot of work. But at this point, I was like, “He doesn't know what he's talking about. It’ll be fine.”

I closed in March of 2022. Besides a leaky faucet, everything was great for a while. I painted my dining room black and hung up disco balls and any Saturday I was bored, I would paint a room. I took baths next to the stained glass window. And then about a year later, I finally decided to fix the leaky faucet myself. I thought I could just go on YouTube and figure it out. It was one of those double handles for hot and cold, and it got stuck. I couldn't fix it. For months, people were turning on the shower with a wrench. Finally I brought out a plumber, which cost $500. At this point I'm still in school and I was working full-time remotely, and making $3,000 a month after taxes. So $500 was a lot for me. 

After that, shortly after my boyfriend moved in with me, the house kinda started falling apart. I was taken aback by all the maintenance it needed. I had to pay for pest control, lawn care every other week for $150, and a $400 monthly power bill during summer in Alabama. We also had really bad summer storms that took the power out. There was a tree in the yard that dripped sap all over our cars. That's the kind of stuff I just didn't think about. I didn't know how to take care of an old house. It’s like that moment in your early twenties when you think, “Where’s the adult?” And then you’re like, “Oh, I’m the adult.”

Because he’d bought me this house, my dad also felt entitled to weigh in on my life. Even after the house was closed and it was mine, I was scared to stand up to him. His name is nowhere on the house, but there was this fear of pissing him off. For instance, I put up a Pride flag outside the house, and he told me he would not be returning to my house if I didn’t replace it with an American flag. He didn’t talk to me for a time after that incident, and he started to do that periodically when he was disappointed in my behavior. In his eyes, he taught me how to be financially responsible when in reality he taught me how to be rich. Once he saw me as a woman with a voice, our relationship was broken. 

A year ago, I was sitting in the house, and it was hot as hell and I looked at my boyfriend and said, “You know, I could just sell this house.” It felt like freedom because I felt like the house owed me. I’d been letting friends live in my house for free, but they’d come to resent me because they were disgusted by the fact that I got a house handed to me. We ended up having a falling out, but they were actually the first to suggest that I sell it. My boyfriend (who’s now my husband) and I decided to leave Birmingham and move to Tennessee.

Selling my house felt similar to escaping the brainwashing of religion. It actually felt a lot like leaving the brainwashing of my father. My father hasn’t spoken to me since I sold the house. He did not respond to our wedding invitation or come to the wedding. It’s weird and complicated, because my dad is older and he has bad health, but I can’t beg him to love me.

I’m about to turn 30, and I’ve been reflecting on my twenties and the shitshow that they’ve been, and I’m thankful to know myself the way I do now. But at the same time, I'm terrified to buy a house again. I do have this rule now: I want to be older than the house. As much as people ask whether Millennials are financially ready to buy a house, I don’t think we consider being emotionally and mentally ready.