Sold Maryland House for a Fresh Start in Georgia; It Didn’t Work Out

Hindsight is 20/20 — especially when I watch nearly $3,000 disappear from my bank account every month for a mortgage that should be nearly paid off by now. The reason I’m in this financial mess? A well-meaning but costly move to Georgia that changed the course of my life.

It was 2000. My (now ex-) husband and I had two little boys — ages 1 and 2 — and we had just upgraded from a townhouse to a single-family home outside Baltimore, Maryland. It was a split-foyer with a third of an acre, mature trees, and a sunroom I loved. We put a wooden swing set with a slide and a little treehouse in the backyard for the boys.

Life was comfortable. We’d bought the house for $153,000, so the mortgage was low. I stayed home with our sons and my stepson. My husband co-owned a restaurant with his brother. We were close to both sides of the family, could take quick trips to the beach or the mountains, and spent summers in my dad’s pool.

Then I visited a friend in Georgia.

We moved to Georgia for a fresh start

My friend was selling her home for a fraction of what ours would fetch, and when I mentioned the price to my husband, he got excited. He was unhappy at the family restaurant and saw a move as both a fresh start and a way to cut our cost of living.

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We sold our home and bought a $111,000 rancher in the Augusta area. At first, it was idyllic: beautiful parks, bike trails, and lakes; friendly neighbors; and weekends at Clarks Hill Lake or Savannah Rapids. We took trips to Charleston and Myrtle Beach.

But the honeymoon was short. My husband disliked his new job almost immediately, and the one after that, too. That was my first big lesson: if you’re perpetually dissatisfied, a new city or job won’t fix it. And in Augusta, good jobs weren’t exactly falling from the sky.

Meanwhile, life back in Maryland was moving on without us. His grandfather was dying of cancer. My stepson was about to become a father. My brother got engaged and married. Each milestone meant a choice: drive 11 hours with two young children to visit, or stay home?

Those drives included breaking down on the highway, going back to Georgia with just me and the children, 200 miles from home, and a car pillow fight that knocked out a tooth. There’s nothing quite like cruising at 75 mph (yes, I speed) and hearing one child shout, “Mommy, pull over, Ben’s mouth is bleeding!” Traveling with toddlers is… well, character-building.

Eventually, we moved back.

We couldn’t get a similar house for a similar price

Going from our low-cost-of-living area in Georgia back to a higher one in Maryland was a whole different game. The median sale price for homes in Anne Arundel County when we left in 2004 was $253,000. When we returned in 2009, it was $351,088.

Instead of immediately buying a new home this time, we moved in with my in-laws for a few months (which I can confirm is not on any list of Top 10 Marriage-Building Activities) before renting a townhouse. We eventually bought a house that cost more than $100,000 above the one we’d sold in Georgia. It was also smaller, older, and more outdated. Did you know home projects aren’t exactly conducive to a stress-free marriage?

The financial toll was enormous. My husband was making less money than he did in Georgia, while we had higher monthly expenses, which caused me to go back to work.

It’s not that I don’t love packing and moving three times in five years — people used to ask if we were in the military — and racking up frequent driver miles on I-95, but let’s be honest: moving is not fun. The stress of moving three times, the strain of living with extended family, and a much larger mortgage all chipped away at our marriage. Eventually, we divorced.

The experience taught me an important life lesson

Count the costs before you decide to move. Everything comes with pros and cons, and if you’re making a multi-state move, make sure you’ve considered the drawbacks. Even if your spouse says you’re being “annoyingly negative,” consider them carefully.

I don’t dwell on regrets — after all, we shouldn’t look back; we aren’t going that way — but I do pay for them, every single month. So I keep my eyes forward, click “submit payment” on that mortgage, and try to remember the lessons.