Fourteen years ago I couldn’t take it anymore. It. Running the hamster wheel. The commuting, the dead-end job, the endless work and the loneliness. That stuck feeling. The empty nest. Wondering if I would ever feel passion for anything again. Passion for living.
So I sold my house and got rid of my stuff. I quit my job, bought a motorhome and hit the road with my dog. I wanted OUT. The American Dream was a nightmare for me. I wanted freedom. I wanted to put my life in slow motion for a year. And I did.
But then a year wasn’t enough. My one-year adventure turned into two years, then three. Then it morphed into a five-year road trip. And it changed my life. My feelings of hopelessness disappeared. I rediscovered my passion for living. I experienced joy. I felt ALIVE. I could SEE again. The magic of bio-luminescence in the rain. The thrill of watching animals in the wild. The beauty and wonder of nature that I had lost sight of in my emptiness. The kindness of strangers. My sight returned, not in a mad rush but in a slow seeping awareness, until I realized I had found my lost self.
But I wondered if it could last. If I could hold onto that newly found happiness after the motorhome was sold and the demands of making a living, family and relationships began pecking away at my new foundation of happiness. Would I ever want to get another motorhome and just hit the road again with no particular destination in mind, just the thrill of no schedule, few responsibilities and the open road calling my name? The answer: YES.