This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Arden Missal, a 30-year-old physician’s assistant and blogger based in Jupiter, Florida. It has been edited for length and clarity.
I’m a physician assistant working in psychiatry in Florida. When I finished PA school in 2022, I had over $150,000 in student loans. After taxes, it was about two years’ worth of my take-home pay.
A lot of personal finance books told me the same thing: make the minimum payments, invest the rest, and stay in debt for a decade or more because my interest rate was relatively low. On paper, that made sense.
When I ran the numbers, I realized that if I followed that advice, I would have a negative net worth for five years. I’d be making a six-figure income, matching my 401(k), maybe investing in the market, maybe upgrading my apartment, or going on vacation — and all the while, I’d be completely broke.
That felt completely backward to me
I decided that paying off my debt as quickly as possible would be best for me. I wanted to be debt-free, believed it was possible for me, and didn’t want to wait five years to have something to show for all my hard work.
When I mapped it out in Excel, I realized I could be out of debt in under two years. I ended up paying off all $150,000 in 16 months.
I asked myself: what could I live without for two years?
I started my plan in September 2022. I stopped spending money on anything that wasn’t life-sustaining. I started cutting my hair at home. I switched from wearing contact lenses every day to wearing glasses, which saved me about $800 a year. I cut out vacations for 18 months.
Every time I made a cut, the timeline shrank, and I could tolerate even more. If I worked more hours, the end date would move closer. If I cut another $100 a month, that might mean four fewer weeks of overtime. Seeing that in real numbers was incredibly motivating.
I started working as much as possible
At my peak, I had three PA jobs and one teaching job at my alma mater. For about a year, I was working 80 to 90 hours a week. My base schedule was about 60 hours, and then I picked up extra shifts. I treated my Google Calendar like Tetris.
I was fortunate to have remote options. I worked in a hospital, virtually for a ketamine clinic, and in an outpatient role that was a mix of in-person and telehealth. Sometimes I would even pet-sit while doing virtual appointments.
People assume that it must have been miserable
Physically, there was fatigue, but I didn’t feel miserable. I actually saw it as a form of burnout prevention. To me, burnout comes from having to work when it’s not your own choice — when your boss is forcing overtime, or your debt payments are dictating your schedule.
I was there voluntarily. I had a concrete goal and a finite deadline. Every hour I worked was getting me closer to being debt-free. I listened to podcasts about paying off debt during my long commutes to stay in that mindset.
I also made a 3% rule
I decided that 3% of my take-home pay could go toward anything I wanted. It was my “joy” fund for things like lattes, eating out, and new clothes that gave me enough flexibility to feel human. It was also an incentive: the more I worked, the more things I could have for myself.
The biggest motivator, though, was watching the balance shrink.
I had setbacks that pushed my timeline back
I faced managerial issues at one job and had to leave after six months. I also saw bonuses cut, and overtime shifts added and then taken away.
Every time something like that happened, my projected end date moved back. When you’re counting down the months, that’s devastating.
There were some special events, like bachelorette parties, engagements, and holidays, that I missed while I was paying off my debt, and my friends and family didn’t understand why paying off debt was such a big deal to me. The way I looked at it was that I’d say no for 16 months, and then I’d never have to say no to an event again.
Mostly, it was such a short period that my relationships didn’t really suffer much.
I prepared my boyfriend at the time
He understood, but after about six months, we both felt worn down by my constant work. The trade-off to me was more than worth it. I had no debt when we got married, and it was meaningful to start off on such a positive note.
I remember driving to work one summer day. It was beautiful outside, and “Margaritaville” was playing on the radio. I was heading into the hospital, thinking about how I used to go to the lake with friends. I wondered, “Is this really what I’m supposed to be doing?”
But I had this very clear, vivid vision of being debt-free. Once I knew how good it would feel — to go on vacation without it sitting on a credit card — I couldn’t talk myself out of it.
When I sent the final payment in December 2023, it felt amazing
By the time the final payment cleared, it almost felt inevitable — like my physical reality had caught up with the mental reality I’d been living in.
I celebrated with my boyfriend. We got pedicures, watched a movie, and went out for a nice dinner. Now I’m married to him, I have a daughter, and I’m still debt-free.
I was able to take the first year of her life off work
That’s when I started my blog, She’s Financially Free. When I was paying off my debt, it was all-consuming, and most people in my life thought I was insane.
I wanted an outlet to talk about it and to help other people — especially women my age — realize they have options. I feel so proud of myself for not giving up during the hard times.
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