Hello! Today I’m sharing an inspiring article from Kelley Olinger. Kelley paid off $77,000 in debt in about 22 months. Here is her story:
Looking back, my money problems started early, as they so often do.
My parents thought discussing money with children was burdensome, so conversations about finances were largely absent from my upbringing. That silence only postponed the stress that would eventually arrive. For me, those lessons were harsh and unavoidable.
Bursaries and scholarships covered my first year of college. In my second year I transferred to a university, and my mother gave me a nest egg she had been saving for about 17 years—an education fund.
During the Christmas break between my first and second years, my mother asked how I was doing financially. I told her I needed more money because mine had run out.
She thought I was joking. I wasn’t.
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We had never discussed what that education fund was intended to cover or how long it should last. When my mom realized I was serious, she told me to go to the student loan office the next day.
I’m embarrassed now to admit I didn’t appreciate how hard my mother had worked to save that money—I honestly believed there would always be more.
I took out a student loan and spent the rest of my college years working nights and weekends to pay tuition, textbooks, and rent. Earning more money didn’t solve the problem; poor money management did.
After graduating, I earned my residential real estate license and began working as a real estate agent at 25. I knew little about running a business and only had textbook knowledge of real estate.
I partnered with a mentor who had strong business experience. She handled our partnership finances—an arrangement that left my own money-management skills undeveloped and worsening.
Our partnership eventually ended for personal reasons, and I moved into project real estate, expecting steadier income and fewer expenses. Instead, I worked constantly and sank deeper into debt. I hid the full extent of my financial trouble from almost everyone and kept up the appearance of success. Pretending became almost as exhausting as the stress itself.
I tracked every expense and logged every transaction using various apps—I reconciled every account, down to the cash in my wallet. Oddly, that didn’t fix the problem; things kept getting worse.
The ticking time bomb
One memory from that period stands out above the rest. My partner planned to go golfing for the afternoon and asked me what I would do. I didn’t tell the truth. On that sunny day I spent hours avoiding the bank, then finally gathered the courage to visit the only bank in town that would cash advance my credit card so I could make the mortgage payment.
The credit union card required in-person transactions. I asked for the cash advance and watched the teller get a manager’s approval. When they handed me the money, I felt relief—temporary and costly. It was a quick fix, a ticking time bomb with consequences to come.
My financial situation was like a boat with too many holes; I could barely plug one leak before another opened.
A few weeks later my accountant called to say my tax refund was ready but the payment method had been declined. I lied to the receptionist, pretending confusion. The truth was my credit cards—plural—were maxed out, including two lines of credit, and my checking account had zero balance.
To cover the accountant’s fee and get the refund, I managed to exceed a credit card limit and transfer cash into my checking account. That solved one problem.
I then had to drive 30 minutes each way to the accountant’s office but feared I couldn’t afford gas. Prepaying gas wasn’t required at the time, so I pumped fuel and prayed my credit would allow another overextension. The payment went through, and I drove to the accountant to receive the refund.
I spent months like that—constantly plugging leaks, always on the brink of disaster, imagining the sheriff at my door to foreclose on my condo, or the disappointed faces of people who trusted me.
Then a chance encounter with a friend, at a moment when my ego had fully dissolved, changed everything.
One afternoon I met a client-turned-friend for coffee. We chatted, and somehow our conversation turned to finances. I confessed I was in a terrible place. She handed me a piece of paper and a pencil and told me to write it all down.
“Write what down?”
She replied with authority: “Everything you owe. Write it down now.”
At first I was offended—who was she to ask about something so private? But she persisted.
“Kelley,” she said, “this problem will never improve until you tell someone. You need to take it off your shoulders. Keeping it inside keeps it inside you. Unburden yourself and tell someone else. Tell me how bad it is.”
Reluctantly, I began to share. I started to preface my confession with explanations, insisting I hadn’t been frivolous. I listed each debt, pausing to look for judgment in her eyes. Instead, she listened as if she had heard it all before.
She told me I could overcome it, that I needed to change my mindset and take action. I had to stop hiding and tell people close to me, and my financial advisor.
Under her persuasion I took the pencil and wrote down my debts on September 9, 2012.
Between credit cards, lines of credit, a student loan, a debt to a friend, and a car loan, the total was $77,691.32, with monthly interest of $659.48. It was humiliating.
$77,691.32 — monthly interest $659.48
After listing debts, my friend asked for my monthly expenses. I assumed I knew them—they were all tracked—but I wrote them down anyway. She scrutinized every item with one goal: eliminate or reduce expenses.
She told me to cancel cable—it was a privilege I couldn’t afford. She urged me to find the cheapest internet option, even dial-up if necessary, and to cancel gym membership only if I truly couldn’t keep it (I kept mine for sanity). She told me to call the medical services plan and negotiate subsidized rates. She had me examine every cost to slow the leak in my boat. She also suggested going to the bank to consolidate debts and lower interest payments to free up more money for principal.
I left that visit partly relieved and partly embarrassed that someone knew I wasn’t who I appeared to be. To my surprise, she still respected me. My fear of judgment proved to be false—Fear is False Evidence Appearing Real.
Her honest, respectful confrontation pushed me to find a second job. With only two applications I was hired as a waitress at a new five-star hotel.
I started calculating how long it would take to repay the debt. One option was a slower pace—working one or two nights a week and taking five years or more to repay. The other, which I chose, was to give up my social life and work intensely to pay the debt off quickly.
I worked my real estate job by day and sprinted to the hotel at night, sometimes with only 30 minutes between shifts. I worked relentlessly, deciding to endure a short, intense period of sacrifice to eliminate my debt and begin saving.
In exactly one year and ten months I paid off $77,691.32. The final payment was made in July 2014, and at that time I told the people closest to me where I had been financially in 2012 and what I had accomplished.
How I paid off the debt
First, I listed every debt and the monthly interest charges and accepted my reality. Hiding was no longer an option.
I took waitressing work because it paid well and fit around my full-time job. I accepted nearly every extra shift and volunteered to work late.
I began telling trusted friends and family the truth; lifting that burden was a major catalyst for change.
I became obsessed with personal finance, reading everything I could. I studied books on investing and personal finance and adopted effective budgeting software (YNAB) and watched webinars to learn how to manage money better.
I planned my debt-repayment strategy, prioritizing debts that caused me the most stress and rewarding myself with small treats as I paid them off.
I created a realistic budget and tracked every cent, learning to say no when I couldn’t afford something and to give gifts that fit my budget instead of succumbing to social pressure.
I sold used household items—old phones, clothes, décor—for extra cash.
I attempted debt consolidation to reduce interest but was rejected.
I cut expenses wherever possible and replaced services and products with cheaper alternatives when I couldn’t eliminate them completely.
I have been debt-free since 2014 and haven’t experienced financial stress in the same way since. Paying off such a large goal left me feeling empowered and unstoppable. I share this story to help others starting from where I once was.
Author Bio: Kelley Olinger is a money coach, blogger, and founder of ReconcileYourWallet.com. After paying off $77,000 in consumer debt in one year and ten months, Kelley now helps others regain control of their finances and clarify their personal goals. In her free time she enjoys road cycling, traveling, and volunteering with Junior Achievement to teach financial literacy to youth.
What do you think of Kelley’s debt payoff story? How much debt do you have?