High Student Loan Debt
It is with immense pride—and a deep sense of relief—that I announce the death of my student loans. On August 2, 2019, after six long years, I finally wiped them out for good. It was not quick or painless. It was a slow, exhausting fight, but every ounce of effort was worth it in the end.
My journey began in 2013, the year I graduated carrying $75,000 in student loan debt. I moved to New York and immediately committed to paying more than the minimum every month—about $1,000, which felt like taking on a second rent. I chose jobs not based on passion, but on survival. Every decision revolved around staying afloat and staying disciplined.
For five straight years, I kept going. Even when I was laid off, I hustled relentlessly and never missed a single payment. I recognize that not everyone has the ability to do this—I was a single, childless, able-bodied woman, and I know that gave me advantages. Still, I carried this burden alone. I never asked for help. No one paid my bills. This was mine to face.
Then, last fall, something inside me finally snapped. Maybe it was the constant feeling that my life was on pause, but I remember thinking, I’m done. I didn’t want to owe anyone anything anymore. I wanted to save for my future—for a home, for children, for a real life. So I set a goal: I would be debt-free by 30. I’m proud to say I reached that goal two years early.
In fact, I paid off the final $32,000 in just eight months.
I slashed my budget and lived on less than a third of my monthly salary. Packing lunches and skipping Ubers added up fast. I worked harder at my full-time job, asked for raises, and earned them. I stacked multiple jobs at once—my day job plus every side hustle I could find. I walked dogs until my feet literally bled, in the cold, the rain, and the heat. Nothing was beneath me. I babysat. I cat-sat. I stayed awake for 24 hours straight to make a few hundred dollars as a TV extra on overnight shoots—yes, even on SVU, which made it worth it. I stripped my food budget down to salads, eggs, chicken, and rice, relying on the generosity of Zach and my family when they fed me.
I said no—constantly—to time with friends and family, hoping there would be more chances later. Near the end, I drained half my savings because if everything fell apart, I would rather owe myself than Navient. I used the snowball method to tackle my loans and outrun the crushing interest rates that ballooned my total debt to $102,000—$27,000 more than I ever borrowed.
Was it easy? Absolutely not. Was it worth it? I’m smiling in a cemetery, with $102,000 lifted off my back. You tell me.
Some people will see my story and say, “If she did it, anyone can.” I don’t believe that. Not everyone can do this. Jobs, health, caregiving responsibilities, and countless other factors make this system brutally uneven. The truth is, it’s a rigged game—and only those playing it truly understand. People’s futures should never be treated like a gamble. While I celebrate my freedom, I don’t believe student borrowers deserve the hardship tied to these loans: outrageous interest rates, sketchy servicers, and endlessly rising tuition.
My hope is that my story inspires people to say “no more” in whatever way they can. Maybe that means paying off debt if you’re able—I’m cheering you on. Or maybe it means voting for policies that make this system fairer. Every action, no matter how small, matters.
All I know is this nightmare—this crisis—needs to end. Being open about my debt and the hoops I jumped through to escape it is my way of trying to help.
But after six long years, it’s time to celebrate. I have my life back. I changed my life. I changed my future family’s life. I broke the cycle of literally paying simply for wanting a better future—for being a “have not.” Not anymore. It’s all mine now. I’m free.
