Feast or Famine — My experiences as a Digital Nomad

Day 365. I was sitting on the bed in my apartment in Medellin and was overcome with an intense wave of both pride and relief. I had accomplished my goal of traveling as a digital nomad for a year, without being in the States for more than one month.

It had been a long year. An amazing year, but a trying one. It’d been a year of feast or famine. It contained some of the highest highs and lowest lows that ebbed and flowed with the only constant of change.

As I sat on my bed the wave of pride continued to build in my chest, and after so many months of avoiding thoughts about wanting to go home, I sunk into the relief knowing that I finally could. Tears welled in my eyes and I couldn’t remember feeling so proud of myself, and so grateful to be able to be free. I actually did it. I spent 11 of the last 12 months abroad, by myself, in 4 continents and 14 countries.

(For tax reasons, it would cost me thousands of dollars to go back to the states for more than 30 days, which was one of the many incentives that kept me outside of the states.)

Everything All at Once

In that year, I’d fallen in love and started a wonderful partnership with a man that I cherish. I’d learned acroyoga and Spanish and read 35 books. I’d met amazing people, built many friendships, and had several people I love come to visit.

When I made the decision to change my life and embrace the flexibility of living and working anywhere, I didn’t fully know what I was getting into. I think I was a little naive. I knew there would be loneliness, but I didn’t realize it would feel debilitating at times. That the fear would overcome me and make me want to quit and go home where I had people who know me longer than a few weeks. I yearned for comfort.

I yearned for comfort when my cousin unexpectedly died and I wasn’t able to support my family or be there for her funeral. When my grandma was hospitalized and on the brink of death after my dad found her unconscious in her home. When I spent days alone in my apartment in Italy, heartbroken and isolated from anybody I had something in common with. When I broke my toe and couldn’t walk without crutches and was unable to make friends, go for a walk, or do acroyoga.

Those moments made travel almost unbearable. They made me want to quit and go home to the comfort of a home. I’d succumb to tears, feeling overwhelmed with emotion, and sometimes I would stop to take a crying selfie. I wanted to remember the pain with the joy. The pain was just as important to me as the happiness.

The thing was, in those deep moments of sadness and pain, I didn’t feel like I had a home to go home to. It felt unfeasible to go live with my parents or back to the States. There were few places I felt like I had a community where I belonged. When I was living in the states before I started traveling I often felt just as isolated as I was when traveling around the world. Every time I pondered going back to the states, the answer, albeit painful, was clear. The only way through was forward.

When things were good, it was really easy to feel like I was on the path that I am meant to be on. When I was less isolated by having new friends, being in a relationship or vacationship, I was comfortable with the change, uncertainty, and discomfort. I could easily forget the pain that was in the past and jump into the present.

The lows made the highs that much more powerful. They were sweeter because loneliness was around the corner.

The moments that stand out with the most amount of joy is when I was with people. The moments of doing acroyoga in the midst of dozens of hot air balloons in Thailand. Hosting my first ever Thanksgiving with sixteen people, a thirty-five-pound turkey, in a too-small apartment, with one of my best friends flying from the states to celebrate it with me. Reunions with old friends and new from Brazil, France, Greece, and Austria catching up with wine and amazing food. And the moment with the most amount of joy was running through the airport into the arms of a man that I had fallen in love with who had flown across the world to be with me.

The year wasn’t black and white. It wasn’t the most amazing year or the worst year of my life. It had many polarized moments. It was beautiful and challenging, and something I’ll always be grateful for. It was one of the best things I’ve done for myself.

What I Learned

Finding Stability in Discomfort

I grew a more intimate understanding of how I experience anxiety and what my triggers are. If I get up in the morning and get out of the house earlier, I’m less likely to feel the effects of isolation and loneliness than if I were to stay alone inside until the afternoon.

If I find group activities and integrate into a community I’m more likely to have a plan for something to do every day. I realized that having the option to do something, even if I don’t do it, kept me far more stable than walking around a city, uncertain of what to do.

Scheduling calls with friends and family on a weekly basis helped give me the perspective that I wasn’t alone or isolated. That I had many people who I loved and loved me and were able to support me on my journey.

Community is What Truly Matters (to me)

Even though I have an amazing life with more flexibility than I could have ever dreamed of, working 15–20 hours a week, and ability to be anywhere in the world, it doesn’t mean as much without people to share it with.

The times where I had friends or family visiting or meeting like-minded people that I clicked with were the highlights of my year. It filled me with such strong gratitude, made me feel loved, and gave me additional perspective on how fortunate I am to live the life I have. One of my best friends came to visit me for Thanksgiving, my siblings flew out to Thailand for two weeks of vacation, coworkers and old schoolmates serendipitously visiting someplace I was living, and my new boyfriend flying literally all over the world to give our relationship a shot, were the moments that stand out most in that first year.

I Am Brave

I learned that I am brave. That I am resilient. That when challenges arise, and they always do, that I have the strength to move through situations and create experiences to make things better.

Being brave to me also comes with accepting that you can’t do it alone. Even though I helped myself, I wouldn’t have been nearly as strong without a tribe of people supporting me afar and along the way.

What’s to Come

The journey isn’t over yet. Although I am no longer trying to be outside of the states for 11 months a year, I am still embracing a flexible life. I’ve spent the fall building a home base with my partner in Las Vegas, traveling around the states visiting friends, family, and work, taking advantage of the ability to be anywhere. (Right now I am finishing this article from Hawaii). The beginning of 2019 will be spent back in Asia with many of the friends I met last year.

I don’t have the answers on what life will continue to look like in the years to come, but I do know it will consist of travel, community, and love.