The Hidden Cost of Living in the Wrong Home
For five years, I lived in a space that didn’t reflect me. Not a space I was mildly dissatisfied with, a space I genuinely hated. And I never talked about what that actually cost me until now.
This post is about your home as a leadership tool. Not in a “light a candle and call it self-care” way. In a real, infrastructure-level way.
Why Your Home Environment Affects Your Leadership More Than You Think
Most leadership development talks about your mindset, your credentials, your network. Nobody talks about where you go home to at the end of the day. But here’s what I know: your home is infrastructure for your leadership. It either supports who you’re becoming or quietly works against it. And if it’s working against you, you are spending energy you don’t have trying to compensate for an environment that is draining you every single day.
I learned this the hard way. I rented my entire adult life until I was 34. Most of my rentals were fine: a new townhouse in college, a cute apartment outside of Philly, a place in Georgia where I was always hosting. Hosting has always been just who I am.
Then I ended up in a single-wide trailer in the woods.
It wasn’t the plan. We lost our rental at the last minute, literally while driving back from El Paso on the 4th of July, and after looking at a dozen places with no luck, that trailer was the only thing available that accepted dogs. The landlord was military, Glenn was military, and he literally just looked at us and said, “Do you want it?” We had no other choice.
So we took it. And we stayed for five years.
What Happens When Your Home Doesn’t Reflect Who You Are
The trailer was from the ’80s or ’90s and nothing had been updated. It was functional. It was clean. But it wasn’t nice by any standard, and more than that, it wasn’t me.
I’ve always hosted. That’s not a personality quirk; it’s a leadership skill. Gathering people around a table, creating a space where conversations happen, making someone feel genuinely welcomed, that’s intentional leadership in action. And for five years, I couldn’t do it.
There was no kitchen table. There was no room. I had two large dogs at the time, eventually two growing stepsons, and a husband, and we were all packed into a space half the size of my current home. I was constantly rearranging, constantly cleaning, constantly trying to make it work. It never felt like enough.
So I stopped having people over. I stopped hosting. And because I stopped hosting, I stopped building the intentional relationships in my community that I now know matter enormously for leadership and civic influence.
Here’s the part I’ve never said out loud: I didn’t join the Junior League until I was already under contract on my current house. Because they send you mail. And I didn’t want to put that address down. I was embarrassed.
Maybe that’s some work I still need to do on myself. But I also think it points to something real — when your space doesn’t reflect you, you start shrinking back. You stop putting yourself forward. You stop saying yes to the rooms you’re supposed to be in.
I shrank back. For five years, I shrank.
How to Lead Well Out of an Imperfect Space
Here’s what I want to be really clear about: I am not in my dream home now. Not even close.
My current house is about 1,400 square feet. I traded square footage for two acres because I wanted the dogs outside and I wanted space to breathe. It’s not perfect. There are things I’d change. But I’ve done enough to make it mine and that’s the difference.
Two years in, here’s what I’ve done:
I redid our master bedroom first. New bed, painted walls, window treatments, replaced the mismatched Facebook Marketplace furniture we’d dragged from rental to rental. I just wanted one space that felt like us.
Then I tackled the landscaping: ripped out what wasn’t working and started over. I spent weeks obsessing over the right roof color because I knew the exterior mattered to how I felt when I pulled into my own driveway.
This past Mother’s Day, Glenn got me a china cabinet and a bar for the dining room. I rearranged the whole space. And something shifted again.
The point isn’t the furniture. The point is the intention. Every one of those decisions was me saying: this space is worth stewarding. I am worth stewarding.
And when I started treating my home that way, my creativity came back. I started hosting again. I stopped being embarrassed about where I lived and started being proud of what I was building. My in-laws went from visiting a handful of times in five years to coming over constantly.
Pro tip: You don’t have to renovate. Start with one room, or even one corner. The act of making one space intentionally yours does something for your identity that a full remodel can’t manufacture. It’s the decision, not the price tag.
FAQs About Home Environment and Women’s Leadership
Q: Do I really need to have a nice home to be a good leader?
A: No. Leadership isn’t about having a nice home, it’s about having an intentional one. The question isn’t what your home costs, it’s what it communicates to you every time you walk through the door. Does it make you feel capable, creative, and like yourself? That’s the bar.
Q: What if I’m renting and can’t really change anything?
A: You can change more than you think. Contact paper on countertops, rearranging furniture, getting rid of things that feel wrong, adding one piece that feels like you — these are low-cost, renter-friendly moves that signal ownership. I wrapped my trailer’s fake wood counters in marble-look vinyl and it made a real difference. Small acts of intention compound.
Q: I feel embarrassed about where I live. Is that normal?
A: It’s more common than people admit. And I’d gently say — if you’re hiding your address or avoiding having people over because you’re embarrassed, that’s worth paying attention to. Not because your home needs to change immediately, but because something in you is shrinking back. And leaders can’t afford to shrink.
Q: How does hosting relate to leadership?
A: More directly than most people realize. Hosting requires planning, execution, reading a room, making people feel welcome, holding a space. It’s the same skill set you use in a board meeting or a civic committee. The standards you hold for your table are the standards you carry into every room.
Q: What’s the first thing I should do if my home doesn’t feel like me?
A: Pick one space, one room, one corner, one wall, and make one intentional change this week. Not a renovation. One decision. The muscle you build by treating your space as something worth caring for is the same muscle you use in every area of your leadership.
Your Home Is a Leadership Tool. Start Treating It Like One.
Here’s the bottom line, friend.
You are not going to lead your whole life well out of a space that makes you feel small. Your home is either reinforcing your identity or working against it. And the longer you ignore that, the more energy you spend compensating for it.
That doesn’t mean a dream home. It doesn’t mean a renovation. It means one intentional thing — this week. Move the furniture. Rip out something that’s been bothering you. Use the good china on a Tuesday because the fact that you’re alive is a special occasion.
Your leadership is a whole-life practice. It’s in your home, your table, your community, your daily rhythms. If you’re ready to build it that way, intentionally, in every area, that’s exactly what the Well Lived Society membership is for.
