From homelessness to homeownership: A journey of resilience and purpose

How my struggles shaped my passion for helping others find their dream home

​By Khalil Adis

Photo: Courtesy of Pexels.

I have a confession to make.
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For the past few years, I’ve struggled to feel creatively inspired to write.

On the surface, I’ve been busy with viewings and helping clients find their dream homes.

​But deep inside, I’ve been processing a traumatic chapter of my life—one that shaped who I am today.

I grew up in a broken home.

I never knew my father, and my mother, devastated by divorce, suffered frequent mental breakdowns.

​She was in and out of hospitals, leaving my sister and me to fend for ourselves.

​I often cried, wondering why she had to leave, but those tears brought no answers.

​Thankfully, my uncle and his family took us in.

​I can only imagine the weight of raising two children that weren’t his own, but he did it with kindness and generosity.

Photo of me growing up. Photo credit: My aunt.

At school, I was a quiet and reserved child.

My teachers saw potential in me and nurtured it.

I threw myself into academics, imagining my father’s pride if he were there to see my report cards.

​It was my way of coping—a quiet tribute to a man I never knew.

A photo of me writing. Photo credit: Khalil Adis.

At 14, I discovered the magic of writing.

My journal became my sanctuary, a place to pour out my feelings and find solace.

A teacher noticed my natural flair for writing and encouraged me to participate in a short story competition.

​To my surprise, I won.

Writing became my therapy, my outlet, and my anchor.

Taman Jurong Community Club. Photo: Khalil Adis.

When I turned 18, my mother, sister, and I had a family discussion about finding a home of our own.

We had no money, but my uncle and his wife pooled their resources to help us put down a deposit for a flat in Taman Jurong.

For the first time, I experienced what having a home truly meant—a place of safety, love, and belonging.

That dream, however, was short-lived.

​At 21, I came home to find my belongings thrown out.

​My sister and I had a falling out, and I was left homeless.

Staying in Admiralty in Woodlands taught me the value of self-reliance. Photo: Khalil Adis.

During my national service, I lived in camp for several months.

Eventually, I found a small room in Admiralty for $300 a month.

By then, I had secured a job as a writer and could afford the rent, but the experience left a lasting mark.

It taught me the true value of a home—not just as a shelter, but as a place to belong.

Punggol is now where I call home. Photo: Khalil Adis.

When I was 25, my sister asked me to return home.

Shortly after, she moved to New Zealand and got married.

Although the property wasn’t mine, I took over the mortgage, property tax, and conservancy charges.
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In January 2014, my sister returned home and threatened eviction.

​It was a moment of despair, but I sought help from my Member of Parliament, Mr. Tharman Shanmugaratnam.

With his support, I secured a two-room flat for my mother and I — a place where we could finally feel safe and settled.

That is why I became a realtor: to help others find the sense of security I once lost.

If you’re seeking a home that offers more than just four walls—if you’re looking for a place of safety, belonging, and peace of mind—let’s talk.

I understand what it means to build a secure future, and I’m here to help you find a place where you can truly feel at home.

Reach out today, and let’s start this journey together. Your dream home isn’t just a house, it’s the foundation of your next chapter.