About ten years ago, I was sitting behind a laptop wearing a blazer, a sheath dress, and a pair of heels. You could hear the buzzing of office life just outside my closed office door. Since I was little, my dream for my adult life was clear—sort of. While some kids dreamed of being a ballerina or a firefighter, I wasn’t dreaming of a title, but a day-to-day vibe. I knew I’d have crisp outfits with sharp blazers and sky-high pumps. I knew I’d talk about things like synergy and proposals. I knew I’d be a businesswoman dreaming of a corner office. 

Well, I looked up and realized that dream was mostly realized. Was I happy? Was anyone in this life happy? It sure didn’t seem like it. We were achieving all that we’d set our minds to and still, there was this emptiness. I knew there needed to be more. 

I spent hours researching it. It all seemed to boil down to a binary—work or not work. It seemed the only ticket to a happy life was early retirement. What would I need to do to retire early? Nothing pretty. I’d have to throw myself into work, earning as much as possible, while going home to an incredibly frugal life. No going out to eat, drinking with friends, or getting a nice apartment. I could scrimp and save, with the reward of my time being my own at some unknown date. 

While there are people who can easily pull this off, I’m not one of them. I liked going out for friends, treating myself to the occasional coffee, and having just one roommate—the frugal lifestyle seemed to rule all of that out. I ran across Tim Ferriss’ writings on The 4-Hour Workweek, which felt closer, but it felt too good to be true. I swore to myself that I’d save enough so that when I got married, my partner and I could quit working and travel for 6 months to a year as our honeymoon. All the elements I’d need felt so far away that it was just a daydream. It planted the smallest seed of an idea within me. 

The world continued and that seed stayed buried. I continued working in a Sales career that grated against my natural introverted tendencies for another five years. I took another step towards a happier life when I changed my career path to Marketing. This change felt like the one. I was doing work I was excited about, and naturally gravitated towards, and for the first time, I felt like I was good at my job.

The glow only lasted so long. I was suffering from severe imposter syndrome. Having shifted careers, I felt I was behind the other people my age. I needed to catch up. I needed to prove myself. I poured myself into work, often working up to 16 hours a day. I was so convinced that if I learned everything I could and gave every ounce of myself to the job, I would ‘catch up.’ That I’d be recognized, rewarded, and end up with the prestigious career I’d dreamed of—and the paycheck to go with it.

I was wrong again.

No matter how much I learned, no matter how much time and effort I put in, or how many wins I got, nothing was enough. One of the biggest sacrifices was vacation time. I was constantly juggling too much to take time off and rarely had the money I’d need to keep up. I tried to travel anyway and ended up in Spain. I worked for another two years to pay off the trip. I went on two more trips, penny-pinching the whole time. 

On each of the three trips, I got a taste of what life might be like if things were a little different. I could be having leisurely lunches with friends if I lived in Spain, I could see my family for an al fresco summer dinner if I lived in Norway, or I could live a less restrictive life if I lived in the Netherlands. I could never stay long though and those short tastes were never enough.

Then COVID hit.

Suddenly remote work was not a rare, if not impossible option. It was the only option for my career. We all adjusted to the new lifestyle together and slowly but surely the backgrounds on my coworkers’ computers changed during our video calls. There were beaches, mountains, and foreign cities sitting just over their shoulders. I could do it too.

With most of the barriers removed, I started reviewing what stood between me and starting my nomadic life. The list began growing. I had an apartment that made traveling unaffordable. I wasn’t married, so I couldn’t do this on a honeymoon. I didn’t even have a partner or a friend interested in doing this. I’d romanticized a nomadic lifestyle for 10 years, but with the sudden reality of the proposition in front of me, I couldn’t look at it with rose-colored glasses anymore. The truth was: I was afraid.

Taking a step, any step, felt terrifying. I felt like I was gambling with my whole life. So I started talking about what I wanted to do. I started to tell people that when my lease on my apartment was up, I’d take off to travel. It was easy to talk about. I never had before, and putting it out in the world was easy. It felt good. I did nothing to prepare though. 

I am an avid fan of using behavioral psychology to improve my life. I knew I’d need it in this situation. Based on what I knew, it would be easier if I didn’t rely on proactive actions. Rather, it was better to find a way to make it happen through inaction. All I needed to do was let my lease run out—the rest would force my hand.

Within a few weeks, I was boxing up everything in my apartment. I was lucky—my parents were letting me leave a few boxes in their basement. So I moved the boxes there. On the night of the move, I curled up on my parents’ couch to fall asleep, wondering what the hell I’d just done. I could always go rent another apartment. But no. I was finally here. I pulled out my laptop and booked a flight to Reykjavik. I would be living in Iceland in two weeks. In two weeks, I would officially be a digital nomad.

Looking back, I probably could have done many things differently on my first trip. I knew so little about the life I was walking into. It was difficult to predict what would be a concern and what was ridiculous over-worrying. 

While this new life has been a dream come true, it is undeniably a difficult lifestyle. I can be lonely, stressful, expensive, and uncomfortable. It’s unlikely anyone from home who hasn’t taken this journey with you will get it. Many of the things I needed to know about the digital nomad life didn’t seem helpful for me. Most of the blogs I read feature people who were self-employed and/or didn’t need to work standard hours. They were also often camping, not worrying too much about a strong enough internet connection to make video calls. They were also overwhelmingly men.

I wish there were more resources that plainly and clearly laid out everything I needed to know about setting up a temporary life in another country. That’s why I’m starting this blog. I started traveling in March 2021 and I’ll be sharing all of the tips, tricks, and resources I’ve discovered along the way. My life is still nomadic, so I’ll be adding as I set off for new destinations.

I’m writing this for you. Whether you’re just beginning to dream about a nomadic life, are preparing to start your journey, or you’re a seasoned nomad looking for some extra tips, I’m hoping to offer you something. I’ll do my best to keep each of these posts up to date, but if you’ve discovered something, please share. If there is one thing I’ve learned about the life of a digital nomad is that openness, sharing, and eternal optimism are your best friends. Join me in that spirit!