The Paradox of Loneliness in the Digital Nomad Lifestyle
It was an hour into the ferry crossing from Santorini to Athens, Greece. But I couldn’t peel myself away from the back of the ship, despite the wind and sea spray stinging my skin. The once towering cliffs of Oía morphed into a faint gray outline along the horizon, almost imperceptible now against the dawn sky. I gripped the cold metal railing, still wet with dew, and took a deep breath of salty air. “This is uncomfortable,” I thought, in many respects.
I was sailing away at will from the friends I’d made over the last couple months. Away from a sunny island utopia where — hours earlier — we were zipping around on mopeds without a care in the world.
The fun, laughter, and lightness of the past weeks suddenly collapsed into the weight of loneliness and isolation. I was alone on the deck of this ship, but also in the world. I knew this feeling all too well. It’s a particular sense of separation mixed with sentimentality. Detachment from a place, people, or potential life. A longing for roots without necessarily losing momentum.
You see, I don’t have a home.
I’ve been location-independent for over a decade. Today, I happen to be on a ferry, making my way through Athens to Bulgaria, my base for the next 3 months. Another place to peel myself away from when…
