Maybe I’m Not Restless. Maybe I Just Know When It’s Time to Move.
I’ve moved more times than any Realtor should probably admit. And honestly, this started long before I ever got my real estate license.
Before Microsoft, before kids, before all of these houses, I was a flight attendant. I traveled all over the world, stayed in different cities, met all kinds of people, and was constantly seeing something new. So maybe I never really lost the need for a change of scenery. I just stopped changing countries and started changing houses.
Since moving to North Carolina, Chris and I have owned five primary residences, plus two investment or second-home properties.
That sounds slightly insane when I write it down.
The House We Bought Sight Unseen
We bought our first North Carolina house while living in New York in 2013, completely sight unseen over the internet.
We paid $515,000 for it, which felt like a lot at the time, and proceeded to put about $120,000 into it. Most of that went into the backyard. We added a beautiful saltwater pool, hardscape, landscaping, all of it.
And I still grew to hate the location.
Busy road. Steep driveway. Two tiny kids.
That house taught me one of the simplest lessons in real estate: you can change almost anything about a house, but you cannot change where it sits.
Location, location, location.
So we moved.
Suggested image: Middle Creek exterior or backyard.
The House That Looked Great on Paper
Next stop was a beautiful, brand-new custom home in Fuquay-Varina on three acres.
It should have been great.
We hated it.
There was nothing dramatically wrong with it, aside from the 9-foot ceilings that drove me crazy. It just never felt like us.
We bought it in January and sold it in July.
Six months.
We had just moved. We had already spent money improving it. Moving again was inconvenient, probably annoying, and not exactly something most normal people would recommend.
We did it anyway.
That house taught me something else: a home can check every box on paper and still not feel like home.
Suggested image: Shirland exterior.
The House We Loved
Then came 12 Oaks in Holly Springs.
That house was something to love. The floor plan was gangbusters perfection.
We stayed there for more than four years, which, for us, practically qualifies as permanent residency. We raised our kids there. We lived through COVID there. We added beautiful hardscape, landscaping, a putting green, and all the things. We spent about $300,000 improving the house over time.
We also bought our first investment property during those early years. Our goal was very simple: make $100,000.
We bought it for $320,000, rented it for several years, replaced an HVAC system that tried very hard to ruin the plan, and eventually sold it off market during COVID for $421,000.
Somehow, we pretty much hit the goal.
Suggested image: 12 Oaks exterior, then Moneta as a smaller secondary image if the blog layout supports it.
Pool or Lake House?
At some point, after another Microsoft bonus came through, Chris and I were deciding what to do next with the money we made from that sale.
Put in a pool?
Or buy a lake house?
Naturally, we bought a lake house.
We had a heck of a time finding one, but eventually bought a total fixer-upper at Lake Gaston for $800,000, complete with a pool built into a cliff and an elevator to take you to and from the boathouse.
And when I say fixer-upper, I mean we basically gutted the interior and transformed the boathouse from an eyesore into something we were actually proud to look at from the lake.
It turned out beautifully.
I still miss that house.
Suggested image: Lake Gaston exterior or lake-facing image.
“Honey, Can You Get Me the Ladder?”
I am not saying any of this makes me some brilliant real estate investor. I am definitely far from that.
I have probably spent an offensive amount of money on movers, packers, renovations, storage, furniture that fit one house and looked ridiculous in the next, and contractors responding to some version of me saying, “I was thinking…”
Chris knows that phrase well.
Around our house, “I was thinking…” is usually followed by furniture moving, a room getting a new purpose, or me saying, “Honey, can you get me the ladder?”
That request has become such a regular part of our marriage that Chris finally bought me a 12-foot ladder for our current house because the ceilings are 20 feet.
At this point, he knows better than to ask too many questions.
Suggested image: One of the ladder photos. This would be a great mid-article visual because it breaks up the house exteriors and adds personality.
Sometimes You Leave a House You Love
Eventually, we were ready to leave 12 Oaks.
We were changing schools. The neighborhood was changing. Our once peaceful golf course view had changed dramatically with new construction.
And that move taught me something different.
Sometimes you leave a house because it is wrong.
Sometimes you leave a house you absolutely love because your life has changed around it.
That is a distinction I understand much better now than I ever did before working in real estate.
The House We Thought Would Be “The One”
So we moved back toward Apex and Cary and bought a house in Greyhawk Landing thinking, this is where we have always dreamed of living.
Big fat wrong.
The house was beautiful. Naturally, we spent about $160,000 renovating it before we even moved in.
Literally two hours after we signed the papers and got the keys, the dumpster was delivered.
That should probably tell you everything you need to know about me.
We really thought we were going to stay.
We did not.
Our son was bitten by a copperhead while playing Hot Wheels near the pool. Yes, an actual copperhead bit my baby.
There were a bunch of other bizarre things that happened too, and at some point we all started joking that the house might actually be cursed.
That story deserves its own article.
Less than a year later, we sold it and moved again.
Suggested image: Greyhawk exterior.
Where We Are Now
Today, we live in MacGregor.
And yes, we have already spent a completely ridiculous amount of money changing this house too.
Apparently, growth has limits.
But this one feels different.
This feels like the house where our kids will finish growing up.
For now, anyway.
I have learned not to make overly confident declarations.
Suggested image: MacGregor exterior.
What All of Those Moves Actually Taught Me
The funny thing is, when I look back at all of these moves, I do not really see a string of real estate decisions.
I see different versions of our family.
Babies. Little kids. School changes. Career changes. COVID. Financial risks. Renovations. Things we loved. Things we regretted. Things we changed because we could. And things we changed because we needed to.
One thing I have never been especially good at is convincing myself to stay somewhere just because leaving would be difficult.
That applies to houses.
It applies to jobs.
It applies to companies.
Life is too short. There are too many great people to meet, interesting opportunities to chase, neighborhoods to explore, and beautiful homes out there to spend years telling yourself something is “fine” when it really is not.
I guess that is the thread through all of it.
I am willing to change my environment when it stops fitting my life.
And that perspective has shaped the way I work with clients now.
I understand the buyer who cannot explain why the perfectly good house does not feel right.
I understand the seller who loves their home but knows their life has moved beyond it.
I understand the family trying to decide whether they should renovate, move, stay, downsize, relocate, or wait.
Sometimes the right move is not about finding a “better” house.
It is about finding the home that better fits the life you are actually living now.
The One Constant
The one thing I have never changed is the man beside me.
Chris has been there through all of it. Every move. Every renovation. Every ridiculous idea. Every furniture rearrangement. Every “what if we…” and every “Honey, can you get me the ladder?”
He is the constant.
So yes, maybe I am restless. Or maybe I just like knowing I can make a change when something no longer feels right.
Either way, I traded traveling around the world for adjusting my environment locally.
And after all these houses, all these moves, and all this furniture Chris has had to carry from one side of the room to the other, I think I finally figured something out.
Home was never really about the house.
It was about how the house supported the life we were living at the time.
P.S. Real estate, I still love you. ❤️
