The plan to not have a plan.
“I feel like all the sand is at the bottom of the hourglass—
— time to turn it over again, then.”
The past few months have been all about recovery and quiet reflection. As I took stock of where I’d been and where I hoped to go, I realized that so far in life, I had been simply checking off boxes—the proverbial boxes that "they" say make for a solid life.
I found my partner, bought a house, flipped it, got married, sold the house, bought another, bigger, newer house, and flipped that one too. We had moved into the kind of neighborhood you see on TV, with green lawns and oversized homes. That felt like a huge achievement for two millennials. Then, we built a small business from scratch. On paper, we had beaten the odds. We worked hard, then we overworked. We filled our oversized home with furniture and the latest trends. We loved and tried to do what was right. But then, we lost, we failed, and even in success, our bodies began to remind us of the deep cost of those wins.
Slowly, and then all at once, we felt pulled toward a new truth. I'm fortunate to have a partner who seems to grow in the same directions I do. We both felt it. At first, we kept those whispers to ourselves. Then, after a trip out west in March to reset, we finally spoke it out loud. Guilt washed over me—I felt like an ungrateful recipient of the life we’d worked so hard to build. But I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it wasn’t right anymore. I knew that if we continued down this path, we’d only feel sicker, less fulfilled, and more in debt. Something had to change.
What if we just let it all go? The house, the plan, the location, and the expectations?
Immediately, a million reasons flooded my mind as to why we shouldn’t let this intrusive thought win: logistics, paychecks, responsibilities, my AxSpa diagnosis... the list was endless. But as the days passed and we felt increasingly unfulfilled, the reasons to stay began to fade. We found ourselves browsing campers and RVs, searching for the perfect vehicle for a cross-country road trip out west. As I let myself explore the possibilities, I noticed my body starting to feel better. My bad symptom days became fewer. I was able to do more of the things I used to. The mind is a powerful thing when it comes to chronic illness. The signs I mentioned in my last entry grew stronger, reinforcing that we were on the right track.
Before we could even fully process what was happening, we found a camper parked in our driveway and called our realtor to list our home in New York. We’re now in the process of giving away all our carefully collected furniture, tying up loose ends, and preparing for a big change.
We’re heading west.
