Being A Digital Nomad Gave Me Less Freedom, Not More

I thought working remotely would set me free. But the real cost was feeling more alone than ever.

I’m working remotely as a digital nomad from an AirBnB. Photo taken by the author.

I was halfway to Australia when I felt it. Not fear. Not excitement. Just a feeling of sadness I couldn’t quite place. The seatbelt sign clicked off and the lights dimmed. Around me, people were watching movies or nudging food around their trays. I just sat there. Tray table down. Coffee going cold.

I kept thinking about Mom. The way she hugged me at London’s Heathrow Airport. Her fingers stayed in my jacket like she wasn’t ready to let go. She looked tired. And I told her I wanted to travel. But it sounded rehearsed. Like it was less of a decision and rather something I’d convinced myself was true.

My Airbnb in Melbourne looked like any other short-term rental. White walls. A laminated sheet on the table with the Wi-Fi password in big letters. And in the kitchen, a few snacks accompanied by a note that said, “Enjoy your stay.”

I went through the motions. Put my toothbrush on the sink, laptop on the desk, socks in the drawer. Same routine every time I unpacked, no matter where I was. But halfway through, I stopped. What’s the point of settling in when I’m just going to leave again? Why do I even bother?