Seven years of digital nomad life, but now I’m scared.…
We get lots of lovely feedback letting us know that people think we are free-spirited or adventurous. We’ve spent 7 years taking our business on the road to wherever grabs us, including Nicaragua, Thailand, Mexico and New Zealand. We’ve spent months each year on the road, which adds up to years away from home. We’ve even relocated for a few months at a time with our baby. And none of it has fazed me. Honestly, up until now.
Here’s the plan?
Our latest plan, that we’ve actually been hatching for a few months now, is to move to Spain for a while. I don’t know how long, don’t ask me. Three months? Six? A year? 10? It’s got a great climate, a laidback lifestyle, a child-friendly community and wonderful local scenery. On paper, it’s perfect.
We’ve been more organised than ever before for this adventure, visiting the area the area for 2 weeks early summer to be sure it was the right move for us. We’re usually much more ‘fly by the seat of our pants’ but having a baby makes you at least try to take more responsible decisions, even if it is within a general lifestyle of unpredictability. With less than 2 weeks to go our plans are in their final stages. The villa contract is signed, we have an appointment booked at a Spanish nursery and our home is slowly being packed into boxes ready for our enthusiastic renters to move in.
And there’s the problem. Every trip before has involved leaving our home ready for us to slip back into as if we’d never been away. We’ve left it empty or we’ve had house swappers in but it was still ours, we knew we could come back any time we liked. This time we’ve decided to make a clean break. We are renting out our home because it feels like the right thing to do.
Ok, that’s a lie!
We are renting it out because Chris has no reservations about such a bold move, and it’s pushing me out of my comfort zone. Which intellectually I know is a VERY good thing. It’s where space for exciting things is created, things which simply wouldn’t come and find me if I remained wrapped in my furry blanket (that’s not a metaphor) on our far too comfortable sofa.
I imagine what I am feeling now is what a lot of folk feel at the prospect of taking their first location independent trip. You know it will be better (in all likelihood) but it also feels disconcerting. What if we can never go back? What if things will never be the same again? What if what we find ‘out there’ means we don’t want to return? Interestingly, my reservations are all about what I’m leaving, not what I am going towards.
I wonder how many people anticipating a trip or a big move feel the same?
As much as I do enjoy any perception that we fearlessly travel the globe at will, deep down I’m a bit of a fraud because I have never really strayed far from my roots. I’ve used our apartment as a bolt hole, an anchor. But at this point in our lives I’m ready to consider that we don’t really need a steadying force anymore; it’s starting to look like it’s time we were free of the extra weight.
(I’m taking my furry blanket with me though)
What are you scared of?
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