Jane and I have been married for eight years, renting for seven—not because we had to, but because she always shut down the idea of buying a house. We were financially stable and had the means, but every time I brought it up, she’d say it wasn’t the right time.
I eventually realized it wasn’t about timing or the market—it was something deeper. When I found the perfect house, she didn’t seem interested. She became visibly uncomfortable when I suggested seeing it, and later admitted it wasn’t the house that scared her, but the idea of owning a home, which reminded her of the control her mom had over their family home growing up.
Her mother had used their house as a way to keep her close, making her feel trapped. This history made her anxious about the idea of homeownership. I understood, and we took time to process this together, without pressure.
She eventually sought therapy, and small changes began to happen. A year later, she surprised me by suggesting we see a listing. We found a small house, one that felt like ours—not like the place she grew up in. We painted it together, picked our colors, and it finally felt like home.
She named a plant “Freedom” because this home was hers. Now, when she looks around, she smiles in relief, knowing this house is a place of peace, not a trap.