A small note before we begin
This is a long post. Around 3,500 words. It’ll probably take you 15–20 minutes to read.
I kept it this way on purpose.
This isn’t a list of “5 tips to get out of debt.” It’s my real story—what happened, what I felt, what I did, what worked, what didn’t—and the exact system I used to get out of debt and finally start thinking about building wealth.
If you’re in a hurry, feel free to save this and come back later. And if you’re dealing with debt right now, I genuinely think this might be worth your time. If this post helps even one person get out of debt—or even fast-track their journey towards it—I’ll consider it completely worth writing.
The Honest Beginning: $22,000 in Debt at 25
A few years ago, I was 25, fresh out of my MBA, starting a new job—and sitting on $22,000 in debt.
Here’s how that number looked:
- $10,000 in education loan
- $10,000 in car loan
- $2,000 in bike loan
On paper, it already sounds heavy. In real life, it felt even heavier—because I also had zero savings.
I had just started earning, and like many people at that stage of life, I made a couple of big decisions very quickly. Taking a cab every day was getting expensive, so buying a bike felt practical. The car was more emotional. The one we had at home was over 20 years old, and my father really wanted a new one. With my new job, I felt this was something I should do. After all, I wouldn’t be where I am without my parents, right?
Was it a rational decision or an emotional one?
Honestly, I still don’t know.
What I do know is this: I don’t regret it. I’m proud that I could get my dad a car while he was there. At that moment in my life, it felt necessary—and I did it. Maybe that’s not perfect financial planning, but it was real life. The only consolation I gave myself back then was: At least I won’t need a new car or bike for another decade.
But reality doesn’t care about consolations.
I had EMIs to pay. I had just started working. I had no safety net. And on top of that, my MBA itself came with a $10,000 education loan. Put everything together, and suddenly I was a 25-year-old with $22,000 of debt and no savings.
That’s when the weight of it really started to sink in.
At first, you try to stay optimistic. You tell yourself, It’s fine, I have a job now. I’ll manage it. But slowly, a different feeling creeps in. A background anxiety. A constant awareness that a chunk of your future income is already spoken for.
And then life happened.
We had unexpected medical expenses for my father—around $50,000. If you’ve ever dealt with something like that, you know it’s not just financially stressful. It shakes you. It makes you think about worst-case scenarios. What if I lose my job? How will I pay the EMIs? What if something happens to me? What happens to my family then?
That’s when I realized something very clearly:
Debt is not just a financial problem. It’s a psychological one.
It sits in your head. Quietly. Constantly. Even on good days.
And that’s what pushed me to take a hard look at what debt was actually doing to my life.
What Living With Debt Actually Does to You
People usually talk about debt in numbers. Interest rates. EMIs. Tenures. Prepayments. All of that matters—but that’s not the full story.
Living with debt changes how you think, how you feel, and how you live.
The Money Problem: Your Cash Flow Is Choked
When you’re in debt, a part of your salary is already gone before you even touch it. EMIs come first. Then rent, bills, groceries, basic life expenses. By the time all that is done, there’s usually very little left.
For me, it felt like no matter how hard I tried, my savings just wouldn’t grow.
I could be disciplined. I could try to cut costs. I could try to “be better with money.” But the truth was simple: the EMIs were eating up a big part of my income. There was no real room to build momentum.
And without momentum, wealth building is almost impossible.
You’re not making decisions based on opportunity. You’re making decisions based on survival and month-to-month cash flow.
The Mental Problem: You Never Have a Clear Head
This is the part people don’t talk about enough.
When you’re in debt, there’s always a low-level stress running in the background of your mind.
- What if I lose my job?
- What if an emergency comes up?
- What if I fall sick and can’t work for a few months?
Even when things are going fine, your mind doesn’t fully relax—because you know you owe money. You know you have fixed obligations that don’t care about your mood, your health, or your situation.
For me, that feeling was exhausting.
It’s like carrying a weight you can’t put down. You can still walk. You can still function. But you’re never really light.
The Life Problem: You Can’t Think Long-Term
This one is subtle, but powerful.
When you’re in debt, your financial world becomes very small. You think in terms of:
- This month’s EMI
- Next month’s bills
- The next expense you’re worried about
You don’t think in terms of:
- Long-term investing
- Building real wealth
- Financial independence
- Designing your life the way you want
Not because you’re lazy or careless—but because your mental energy is already consumed by managing obligations.
I noticed this in myself very clearly. Till the time I was in debt, my only real financial goal was: somehow manage everything and don’t mess up. There was no space to think bigger.
And honestly, that’s not a great way to live.
At some point, it became obvious to me that this wasn’t just about optimizing interest rates or making smart spreadsheet decisions. This was about peace of mind, safety, and control over my own life.
That’s when I decided: before I try to build wealth, before I try to be “smart” with investing, before I chase any financial goals—
I need to get rid of this debt first.
And that decision changed everything that came after.
I’ve Seen Two Lives: One With Debt, One Without
Growing up, I didn’t need books or YouTube videos to understand what debt does to a family. I saw two very different versions of life up close.
My parents’ life always had some loan running in the background. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. A home loan. Some other loan. Something or the other was always there. I don’t think there was a single year until I was 25 when our family was completely debt-free.
That doesn’t mean my parents were irresponsible. They did what most middle-class families do. They managed. They adjusted. They kept going. But there was always this underlying pressure around money. Big decisions were always filtered through one question first: Can we afford the EMI?
On the other hand, I remember my grandfather’s life very differently.
He didn’t have debt.
That doesn’t mean he was rich or living some luxurious life. But there was a certain calm in the way he approached money. A certain stability. Decisions weren’t made in panic or urgency. There was no constant juggling of obligations. He lived within what he had, and because of that, there was a quiet confidence in how he lived.
Only much later did I realize what the difference really was.
It wasn’t about income. It wasn’t even about being “good” or “bad” with money.
It was about what debt does to your mental space.
One life is spent constantly managing obligations. The other is spent making choices with a clearer head.
Having seen both up close, I knew which one I wanted to build for myself.
Why I Chose Peace Over Math
At some point in any debt conversation, someone will bring up this argument:
“If your loan interest is 7% or 8%, and the stock market can give you 11% or 12% over the long term, shouldn’t you invest instead of prepaying your loan?”
On paper, this makes sense. And to be fair, mathematically, they’re not wrong.
Over long periods of time, compounding can do wonderful things. If you’re extremely disciplined, consistent, and emotionally detached from your money, you can come out ahead by investing while keeping low-interest debt.
But real life isn’t a spreadsheet.
Here’s why that logic didn’t work for me—and why I think it doesn’t work for most people.
First: Most People Aren’t That Disciplined
The theory assumes that the extra money will definitely be invested, every month, without fail, for decades.
In reality? Life happens.
Some months you’ll spend more. Some months something unexpected comes up. Some months you’ll tell yourself, I’ll invest next month. And slowly, that “smart strategy” turns into just another excuse to stay in debt longer.
I know myself well enough to admit this: I wanted a simple system, not an optimal-but-fragile one.
Second: I Wanted My Life to Be Mentally Simple
I didn’t want to live in a state where, technically, I’m doing the “right” thing—but emotionally, I still feel stuck.
I didn’t want to constantly think in terms of:
- Net present value
- Arbitrage between interest rates
- Long-term expected returns
I wanted a life where my finances were boring, stable, and predictable.
For some people—especially real estate investors or very disciplined high earners—using debt smartly can absolutely work. I’m not denying that.
I’m just not one of those people.
I’m a normal person who wants:
- Fewer moving parts
- Fewer things to worry about
- Fewer obligations hanging over my head
So I chose peace over optimization.
Not because it’s the mathematically perfect choice in every scenario—but because it’s the psychologically safest one for me.
The Non-Negotiable Rule: Kill High-Interest Debt First
That said, there is one area where there is no debate at all.
If you have high-interest debt—especially credit card debt—that has to go first.
Credit cards charging 20% to 30% interest are not “financial tools.” They are financial emergencies.
There is no safe, guaranteed investment in the world that will beat that kind of return after tax and risk. Keeping that kind of debt while doing anything else with your money is like trying to fill a bucket with a hole at the bottom.
You’re working hard, but the money is leaking out faster than you think.
Personally, I’m not a big fan of credit cards. Not because they’re evil, but because they’re designed around a simple human weakness: we feel less pain when we don’t see money leave our hands.
Swipe now. Worry later.
For a small percentage of people, this works fine. They pay on time. They track everything. They never slip.
For most people, it quietly becomes expensive debt.
So my rule was simple:
- List all debts
- Sort them by interest rate
- Start attacking the highest-interest ones first
In my case, my car and bike loans had slightly higher interest rates than my education loan. So I went after those first.
Not because it was dramatic. Not because it was fancy.
Just because it was the most sensible and efficient way to reduce the damage.
That’s when my journey stopped being abstract and started becoming very real: one loan, one target, one clear direction.
My Actual System: One Goal, Nothing Else
Once I made the decision that I’m done living with debt, I needed a system that was simple, boring, and hard to mess up.
For the next two years, I gave myself just one financial goal:
Get rid of the debt. That’s it.
No chasing returns.
No trying to be clever.
No “I’ll do a bit of this and a bit of that.”
Just one direction.
The core rule I followed was very simple:
Pay for your priorities first. Live on whatever is left.
At the beginning of every month, I already knew roughly how much I needed to live a comfortable (not luxurious) life. So instead of spending first and then seeing what I could save, I flipped the order.
First, I sent a big chunk of my salary straight to my loans.
Then, I lived my life with whatever remained.
This changed everything.
It removed decision fatigue. It removed negotiation with myself. There was no daily debate about whether I should pay more towards my loans. The decision was already made at the start of the month.
If money started feeling tight towards the end of the month, that didn’t mean the system was broken. It just meant I had to adjust my lifestyle, not my goal.
That mental shift—from “save if possible” to “pay first, adjust life later”—was probably the most important change I made.
The Budget That Made It Possible (Real Life, Not Theory)
Around this time, my mother started living with me after my father passed away. So it was the two of us, and I wanted us to live a decent, comfortable life—not lavish, but not miserable either.
I sat down and mapped out everything:
- Rent
- Internet
- Electricity
- Water
- Groceries
- Transport
- Daily living expenses
Then I added the not-so-frequent but very real costs:
- Quarterly or yearly internet or service costs
- Bike insurance
- Car insurance
- Health insurance for me
- Health insurance for my mother
Nothing fancy. Just honest, boring, real-life expenses.
Once I had this, I arrived at a number that I knew was enough for us to live comfortably.
Not extravagantly. Not in a “let’s splurge” way. But in a way where life felt normal and dignified.
Everything beyond that number went straight to my loans.
If I had to put a rough figure to it, around 60–70% of my in-hand salary was going towards debt repayment. I was living on the remaining 30–40%.
That’s a big sacrifice. I won’t pretend it’s not.
But that’s also the reason this journey took two years instead of six or eight.
You can’t shortcut debt. You can only compress the timeline by being more aggressive.
And this was my way of doing it.
The Small, Uncomfortable Sacrifices That Actually Mattered
This is the part most people don’t like talking about, because it’s not glamorous.
There was no dramatic “hustle story” here. No secret income hacks. No overnight miracles.
Just a lot of small, boring, sometimes annoying decisions.
There were months when I had to skip nights out because I was running low on money.
There were plans I cancelled—including travel plans, even though I love travelling.
I significantly cut down on food delivery apps and started buying groceries and managing meals more simply.
I started being much more intentional about everyday spending instead of letting convenience decide for me.
None of this was fun.
But I kept reminding myself of one thing:
This is not forever. This is just until I’m free.
That perspective helped.
And then something interesting started happening.
Every time I closed one loan, it felt like a small but real victory.
First, it was three loans.
Then it became two.
Then it became one.
Each time one disappeared, I felt lighter. More confident. More in control.
It wasn’t just about the numbers going down. It was about proving to myself that I could actually stick to a hard plan for a long time and finish what I started.
By the time I was down to the last loan, something had already changed inside me.
I wasn’t just someone trying to “get out of debt” anymore.
I was someone who knew he could.
The Day I Became Debt-Free
The day I made the last payment wasn’t dramatic.
There was no celebration dinner. No big announcement. No “I finally made it” post.
It was just… quiet.
I remember sitting there, looking at the screen, and realizing that for the first time in years, I didn’t owe anyone anything.
That was it.
No EMIs waiting next month.
No balances to check.
No mental note about which loan to prioritize next.
What surprised me wasn’t excitement. It was relief.
A deep, calm, almost physical sense of lightness.
And then another realization hit me almost immediately: the same money I had been using to kill my debt—around 60–70% of my income—was now free.
Not free to be wasted.
Not free to disappear into lifestyle upgrades.
But free to finally be used for building something.
In a strange way, paying off the debt didn’t feel like an ending. It felt like the starting line.
What Life Looks Like After (The Part Nobody Talks About Enough)
From the outside, not much changed overnight.
I didn’t suddenly start living a flashy life. I didn’t go on a shopping spree. I didn’t “reward myself” with expensive upgrades.
But inside, a lot changed.
Money stopped feeling like something I was constantly managing under pressure. It started feeling like something I could plan with.
I knew that:
- My mother was secure
- The house was stable
- There were no ticking obligations in the background
The background anxiety just… wasn’t there anymore.
Decisions became calmer.
Plans became longer-term.
Mistakes became less scary.
And maybe the most important shift was this: I stopped thinking only about getting through the next few months and started thinking about where I actually want my life to go.
That’s a very different mental state.
When you’re not busy plugging leaks, you finally get the chance to design the ship.
The Simple Framework Anyone Can Use
Looking back, I didn’t do anything revolutionary. I didn’t invent a new method. I didn’t discover some hidden trick.
I just followed a very simple, very repeatable framework:
- Accept reality. No denial. No “it’ll somehow work out.” Just clarity.
- List all your debts. Amounts, interest rates, everything. Make it visible.
- Kill high-interest debt first. That’s just damage control, not strategy.
- Pay first, live on the rest. Flip the usual order.
- Make aggressive but temporary sacrifices. Speed matters.
- Celebrate milestones. Progress fuels consistency.
- Redirect EMIs into wealth. Don’t let the freed-up money disappear.
That’s it.
No complexity. No fancy terms. No dependence on motivation.
Just a system that works because it’s simple enough to follow when life gets busy.
Debt-Free Is Not the Finish Line. It’s Where Real Learning Begins.
For a long time, my entire financial world had just one objective: close the debt.
That’s it.
I didn’t care much about investing. I didn’t think about asset allocation. I didn’t know what an emergency fund really meant in practice. I wasn’t comparing index funds, mid-cap funds, or anything like that. Not because I was careless—but because I simply didn’t have the mental space or the money to think about those things properly.
When you’re focused on survival, you don’t think about optimization.
But once the debt was gone, something interesting happened.
For the first time, I had:
- Mental space
- Emotional calm
- And actual money left at the end of the month
That’s when the real learning started.
I started understanding:
- Why an emergency fund matters
- How insurance actually fits into a financial life
- The difference between large-cap, mid-cap, small-cap funds
- What index funds are
- How mutual funds work
- How to think about risk, time horizons, and diversification
Earlier, I was just trying to stay afloat.
Now, I could finally think about building something.
And here’s the funny part: while I was paying off my debt, I was already training the exact muscle I needed for wealth building—consistency.
For two years, I had been sending 60–70% of my income away every month without fail. First it went to debt. Now, that same habit could go to:
- Savings
- Investments
- Long-term goals
So when I started thinking about things like financial independence or retiring early, it didn’t feel like fantasy.
It felt… doable.
Not because I suddenly became smarter. But because I had already proven to myself that I could stick to a plan for years and see it through.
Debt-free didn’t make me rich.
It gave me the space and stability to finally learn how to build wealth properly.
Full Circle: What This Journey Really Gave Me
When I look back at the day I bought that car for my father, I don’t see a bad financial decision.
I see a human one.
When I look back at the stress, the EMIs, the tight months, the sacrifices—I don’t see wasted years.
I see training.
Training in discipline.
Training in patience.
Training in choosing long-term peace over short-term comfort.
Today, my life is quieter in the best possible way.
My mother is secure.
The house is stable.
There are no loans in the background.
No mental tabs open.
No constant calculations about obligations.
And that peace is worth more to me than any clever financial trick.
Paying off $22,000 in debt didn’t make me special. It didn’t make me a genius with money. And it definitely didn’t solve all my problems.
But it did one very important thing:
It gave me control over my life again.
And from that control came confidence.
From that confidence came learning.
From that learning came the belief that I can actually design my future, not just react to it.
If you’re in debt right now, I won’t tell you it’s easy. It’s not.
I won’t tell you it’s quick. It isn’t.
But I will tell you this: the day you get out of it, your financial life doesn’t just get better.
It opens up.
Paying off my debt didn’t make me rich.
It made me free enough to start.