by Kyle Wilson
I didn’t take his condescending attitude very well, but it lit a fire in me. I knew at that moment more than at any point previously that I was going to buy a property. I didn’t know how yet, but I swore that it would happen. So, I went to bank after bank, loan officer after loan officer.
I finally did find a mortgage broker that would work with me, and it just became months of stress and endless documentation. Each week it seemed the lending standards got stricter as banks were still reeling from the mortgage crisis. It was one of the most stressful times in my life, but I knew what I had to do, no matter how much sleep I lost in the process. I was going to get a home.
A few months later, I was sitting on my couch watching TV with my wife in the new triplex home we had just purchased. We wanted a house but found ourselves in a triplex because it was all we could afford. It was a victory, nonetheless.
Then, there was a knock at the door.
I looked at her with a puzzled look wondering who it could be. We couldn’t afford very much, so we purchased the home in one of the worst areas of the city because it was cheap and close to where we were attending grad school. It wasn’t somewhere you expected to get random company at night.
I went to the door and cautiously opened it up. I was pleasantly surprised. My tenant was there to pay me the rent. I took the cash, wrote a receipt, and sat back down to finish watching TV. I can’t remember what was on TV or anything else about that night, but I can clearly remember how I felt as the gears in my brain were grinding like an old IBM computer.
Something really big had just happened, but I didn’t quite understand it. I had worked so hard for so much less up until that point. I worked different part-time jobs, and I enlisted and later commissioned in the Army. That rent payment was more than two weeks’ pay for me, and I hadn’t lifted a finger to get it. Then I realized something….
I wanted money to come knock at my door. I didn’t want to hustle and grind every day of my life to get by. By the end of the night, I knew that my entire life had changed. I knew that I had accidentally discovered something.
I discovered passive income.
――
“Eric, this is the most stupid decision you could ever make!” One of my professors and mentors was talking to me about my decision to leave the Ph.D. program. I listened politely to his reasoning but wasn’t paying attention. It was 2011, and a lot had changed in two years.
“Eric, you’re too good for that. You need to do something valuable with your skills.”
What? Being an entrepreneur is not a valuable use of my skills, but doing research is? I know there is a level of pride associated with the degree, but it seemed a bit over the top. He didn’t realize it, but he was just cementing my drive even further.
“Why don’t you just finish your degree as a backup? If real estate doesn’t work out, you can still get a job as a professor or researcher somewhere. Plus, the economy is terrible right now.”
That’s exactly the point, right? You’re supposed to buy low. It didn’t matter anyhow; I knew I needed to take action and was tired of waiting―I had already waited long enough.
In 2010, I put my entire life on hold for a year-long tour overseas. I was in charge of 42 young men on daily combat patrols in eastern Afghanistan. Even though the daily grind took a toll on me physically, mentally, and emotionally, I stayed laser-focused on my dream which I had discovered in 2009. I was focused on saving and learning. I saved every dollar I could, and my wife lived very frugally to help save. Every spare moment, I was reading books about real estate, business, investing, and finance.
When I came home from overseas, I explained to my wife that I felt this was my one shot. It was my one big opportunity, and I felt this opportunity would never come again. She was not entirely on board, but somehow, I convinced her to let me risk every dollar we had and take on a massive amount of debt to make it happen. Deep down, she didn’t want to do it, but she just wanted me to be happy after my deployment.
She was the only one that supported my crazy idea. All my friends and family thought it was too risky and it was a safer bet to stay in school and get a job. After all, it was 2011, and the economy was terrible. There was blood in the water, and sharks were circling.
I didn’t listen to my professor. I didn’t listen to my friends. I didn’t listen to my family. Even though my wife supported me, I didn’t listen to her subtle way of saying “no.” I dropped out of school and dove right into the bloody water when I decided to flip houses.
To be completely honest, I was ashamed. That’s why I didn’t tell anyone yet. My plan was to get my business up and running and then I could break the news to my family and simultaneously give them the great news. I closed on my first property, and it was one of the most exciting days of my life! Unfortunately, some plans don’t work out like you intend.
Just a few months later, I was comforting my wife as she cried herself to sleep most nights. I was way over my head in debt, and we had no money coming in. My first deal was a total flop. I put every dollar I had into the deal and borrowed over $40,000 from friends. I maxed out every credit card, and at this point, we had less than $200 in the bank. I couldn’t even afford gas or groceries.
If I didn’t fix something fast, I wasn’t going to make it very far in this business, so, I started reviewing everything. I went through my costs, projections, budgets. Then I thought about my strategy and began to realize something.
I had lost sight of my original dream.
I remembered that I wanted money to come knock at my door. Instead, I was working 10 hours a day, and absolutely no one was banging down my door to pay me. I was paying everyone for six months with no money coming in. I had built my business around what I thought I was supposed to do rather than staying true to my goals. Because of that, I was miserable and stressed.
I went back to the drawing board and started to adjust what I was doing to fit into my long-term goals and original vision. Just like how the loan officer laughing at me stoked my fire for buying my first home, the pain and stress made me want to double down. Eventually, I was able to work out a system that I thought would allow me to not only grow a business but also stay true to my founding principle.
Then, somehow, I convinced my wife to go along with my idea to buy another property with this new strategy, get back into debt, and go through it all over again.
Some might say I was a glutton for pain, but I think I was just being persistent. I had a dream and was determined to achieve it. I sold my first deal, and two days later was purchasing a new property with the new system and process. I didn’t even give myself enough time to catch my breath in between deals.
――
I was sitting at a table outside of a café in a beautiful sub-tropical city in China, drinking tea with my wife. “Jun, how did we get here?” I asked her. “Do you remember a few years ago when everyone doubted me? Remember when you were crying in bed because we had no money and no income? Now, here we are, not a care in the world, traveling, living life on our terms.”
Jun thought for a moment, then asked, “I wonder what your professor is up to now?” I pulled out my phone and did a quick search. I had stayed in touch with him over the years and knew he had a government job in D.C., and I knew all government salaries are public record.
I found what I was looking for and turned the phone around to show her what I was missing out on. She looked at the phone and said, “That’s an amazing salary!”
I nodded in agreement. “Yep, it is, and he’s got great benefits too. But we’re on our third month-long vacation this year. Which would you rather have?”
She looked up at me and smiled, “So much for getting a Ph.D.”
A few months prior, in January 2016, I had quit working a job forever. I was 30 years old.
Now, I spend my time doing whatever it is that I’m passionate about, the most important of which is spending time with my family and traveling the world.
I’ve also realiz
ed that anyone can achieve a financially independent lifestyle, so I’m tirelessly sharing and spreading my knowledge and stories on my website, my podcast Financial Independence Through Real Estate , speaking at events, and hosting my own seminars.
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TWEETABLE
The key is to build your business and investments around the way you want to live your life, not the other way around. Then, stay laser-focused, even if everyone around you is saying it’s impossible.
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Eric Bowlin teaches people how to replace their active income with passive income so they can quit their job and take control of their time.
At the age of 30, Eric was able to quit his job to spend his time pursuing his passions with his family and traveling the world. He has a 500-unit real estate portfolio, a top-10 real estate investing blog ( IdealREI.com ), and quality training programs. You may have seen him in Trulia, Forbes, Inc, Yahoo Finance, and many more publications.
CHAPTER 6
A Story of Heartache,
Healing, and Hope
by Jenny Landon
May 2014 – Memphis, Tennessee
Jenny, I’m writing to you from a place of heartache and love.
Two of my friends each lost a loved one to suicide within the last week. I know everything you’ve been through and all you’ve done to heal. Would you please consider writing a letter of hope letting them know that healing is possible?
I read the message multiple times, allowing my heart and brain to fully comprehend what was being asked of me. I took a deep breath, and in that breath, a flash of memories soared through my mind.
――
June 1999 – I’m standing in a hotel room in Cancun, Mexico.
“Your dad tried to kill himself. 911 was called. An emergency crew arrived.”
“Where is he now? I have to get to him. I have to see him! I have to tell him I love him! I have to tell him I’m sorry―I’m sorry I didn’t know how much pain he was in. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. Please tell me where he is. I have to tell him…I have to tell him I love him.”
I paused just long enough to hear, “I’m sorry, but he didn’t make it―they weren’t able to save him.”
I tried to breathe, but my chest suddenly felt like it had a hundred-pound weight crushing it. I looked at my fiancée and saw the pain in his eyes as he tried to take me in his arms and comfort me.
I resisted and began pounding my fists on his chest. “No!” I screamed. “No, you said he would get better. You said this kind of pain wouldn’t last. No!
This can’t be real! I need to be with him. I need to tell him I love him.”
My voice trailed off. My body became weak, and I crumpled to the floor, breathless and crying the most painful cry I’d ever experienced. I gasped for air as tears burned down my cheeks. Chris kneeled down next to me and wrapped his arms around me.
――
June 1999 – I’m standing in the front yard of my childhood home in Longview, Texas.
“I can’t go back to California. I’ve already called my boss…. I quit yesterday.”
“Jenny, you can’t be serious.”
“Chris, I can’t go back. I don’t know how to live without him.”
“Jenny, please. Hear me. You can’t stay here. You have to go back to California with me.”
“I can’t! I can’t go back. I can’t even breathe―it hurts too much. How can you expect me to go back to the life I was living before he died?”
“You have to try. You can’t stay in Longview. We have a life together. You can’t just walk away. We’re getting married. You’ve got school to finish. We have plans.”
“Chris, you don’t understand! Everything I ever did was to make him proud of me and now he’s gone!”
The tightness in my chest intensified now that I’d said it out loud. The pain I’d been holding in exploded through every fiber of my being. I could barely stand. Chris took me in his arms. He held me tight as he gently kissed the tears streaming down my face and said, “I know this isn’t easy, but you have to start living a life that makes you proud.”
――
August 1999 – I’m standing in a classroom at San Francisco State University.
“My dad died this summer.”
I tried to catch my breath. I had to tell her about my loss and my current state of mind. She was the fifth professor I’d had to speak with since I returned to school earlier in the week, and it had not gotten any easier. Just as with all the others, I took her by surprise, and she wasn’t quite sure what to say.
Before she could say anything, in a mix of tears and hyperventilated breathing, I blurted out, “He died by suicide. I don’t understand. This isn’t who my dad was. He was strong. He was kind. He was smart. He was funny. He is the reason I made it out of Texas. He has always been the person who pushed me, encouraged me, and loved me more than anyone else. I need to know what happened to him. I need to understand.”
――
September 2001 – I’m sitting in a crisis center in San Mateo, California.
“So, Jenny, tell us, why do you want to become a crisis counselor and public educator on suicide prevention?”
“I lost my dad to suicide, and I’ve spent the last two years focused on trying to understand what happened to him. I may never fully understand, but I know I need something good to come from his death. My hope is that by sharing my story with others, then maybe together, we can save lives.”
――
June 2003 – I’m sitting in my master bedroom in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
“Hey Jey … what’s going on?”
I was sitting in the dark, holding our baby girl. Unsure of how long he’d been standing there, I looked up and saw Chris leaning against the doorway with the light from the hallway glowing around him. I looked back down at our beautiful girl who was sleeping peacefully, and I knew that she was the only thing keeping me alive. Tears filled my eyes. My chest was aching from both sadness and fear. I knew I had to tell him, but I was scared. I tried to take a breath, but it felt impossible. I looked up and saw that he was still standing in the doorway. As a tear rolled down my cheek, I quietly said, “I’m scared I’m going to die.”
He looked like someone had punched him in the gut, but he moved towards me, kneeled down next to me, and said, “We’ll get you back into acupuncture. It helped you after your dad died. I’m sure it will help you now.”
――
May 2010 – I’m lying in a chiropractic office in Las Vegas, Nevada.
“What would you say has helped you to heal after all you’ve been through?”
The sun was shining in through the window. I could feel its warmth across my chest, abdomen, and hips as I laid on the treatment table. In that moment, I knew I was safe. I knew I was whole. I knew what Dr. Hetzel was asking me.
The memories that once caused me such pain now played through my mind like a movie. I continued to ponder the question that had just been asked of me, “What’s helped me to heal?”
I thought about everything I’d been through and replied, “Over the years I’ve been really lucky to have the right people in my life at the right time.”
After a pause, Dr. Hetzel asked, “Can I challenge you to change one word in what you’ve just shared with me?”
“Sure.”
His beautiful blue eyes sparkled as he said, “You weren’t lucky, you were blessed. God blessed you with people in your life to help you through this journey.”
Tears began to well up in my eyes, and I shook my head to say no. The day my dad died, so did my relationship with God. It wasn’t intentional; I just simply stopped praying, stopped believing, and stopped asking Him for help.
I struggled to speak, but finally managed to say, “No…. Why would God choose to bless me and not others in my family? It’s been over ten years since my dad died, and the rest of my siblings and even my mom are still struggling with the intense pain o
f losing him.”
Dr. Hetzel put his hands on mine. He smiled as tears filled his eyes, and he said, “God didn’t choose to bless you and not the rest of your family. The difference is that you were willing to accept His blessings and the work that came along with them.”
Everything in me began to hurt. The intense pain I had felt so long ago returned. I struggled to breathe as the tears flowed down my cheeks. I squeezed my eyes shut. For a moment everything was dark, but then I saw a memory of myself standing in the first home Chris and I purchased shortly after my dad died. I could see myself standing in front of the large bay window looking out at nothing in particular and yet clearly searching for something.
As I continued to cry in Dr. Hetzel’s office, I remembered how I used to be drawn to that window, but there was something different as I saw myself standing there now. This time I wasn’t standing alone. There was a figure standing next to me with His hand on my shoulder.
It was suddenly clear to me that while I had given up on God, He had never left my side. I became overwhelmed with memories, memories of choices, difficult choices, all of which had impacted my healing.
With the encouragement of those around me, I had successfully returned to college where I received my degree in psychology, participated in a specialized support group, experienced acupuncture, and then became a crisis counselor and public educator on suicide prevention. Each one of those experiences had been introduced to me by people who had taken the time to reach out and invest in my wellbeing, but ultimately, it was up to me to take action. I often struggled and even had moments when I wanted to give up, and yet somehow, I managed to continuously have the right people in my life to keep me going.
I had unintentionally and unknowingly surrounded myself with people who had pushed me beyond my comfort zone, encouraged me during times of self-doubt, and loved me even when I felt unlovable. Some of those people had been lifelong friends while others were nothing more than a memorable conversation. Regardless, in that moment, I realized that they had been blessings in my life. They had each taken a turn in being the guiding voice I so desperately needed to hear but was unwilling to hear within myself.