One year ago today, I
hopped on a plane to Phoenix, Arizona, to begin a life of travel. I had just
quit my parks and recreation job (3 years, 10 months…new record!), put all my
possessions in storage (after selling/donating/trashing over 60% of it) and was
jobless, homeless, and ecstatic about the unknown future.
So, what made a 31
year old woman quit her job, vacate her townhouse, and say good bye to her
friends and the life she’d known for the last 7 years?
Maybe it was my navy
brat childhood and moving every year. I developed a love to travel, to explore
new places, meet strangers. Luckily for my addiction, my 20’s were all about
traveling...working on cruise ships for two years, backpacking through Western Europe,
visiting Central America, taking monthly trips when I settled down at a 9-5
job. I entered my 30’s and was content with a flexible job, recreational
soccer/softball, and a good friend base.
Work was great, but wanted more responsibility. So, I applied for various jobs with different cities all over
the US. Made it to a second and then a third interview (a few times!), yet
nothing panned out. Then in October I tore my ACL/Meniscus…for the second time.
Life stood still. I didn’t want to go through surgery again, and rehab, and
taking it easy, day in and day out, as my body healed. Last time, healing was
so easy, so quick...relatively…but this time? I dreaded it.
I went through a bit
of an identity crisis and backed away from people. Became a hermit. If I
couldn’t play soccer (and let’s quote everyone in my life at the time: after
two ACL surgeries, why would I risk playing again?), if I couldn’t run, what
was the point? Who cares about softball or kickball? Not that I could play
those either because my knee was unstable. The surgery did not 100% fix it.
Even after a year, pain was there. Twinges. Random giving out. Additional
numbness that didn’t go away. Advance notice of poor weather. Swelling and
stiffness after exercise. Not to mention it felt...like someone else’s limb,
not quite attached to my body.
So, with a restlessness
(and perhaps a bit of depression) overtaking me (about work, about my knee,
about my mental state, about life in general), what was a girl to do? Quit.
Her. Job. (duh). I submitted a 3 week notice for the last day of summer (look
at me building bridges by waiting until the workload lessened) and said adios
and good riddance. No regrets. No qualms. Just relief and joy to escape to the
remote areas of the US.
(Side note: I’ve been
a saver since I started babysitting at age 11. I don’t buy name brand of
anything and always try to find deals. I’ll splurge on monthly travel trips,
but even then, I find the deals. Then I moved in with two roommates and started
saving even more. All excellent habits for a savings account that allowed me to
travel and not work for a year). So,
Initially, everyone’s
excited, oh look she quit her job and is traveling. That’s so cool. I wish I
could do that. Then it became “old” news. People kept asking, “When are you
getting a job?” “When are you done traveling?” I started to feel like an
imposition yet the end to my traveling was not yet a formed thought. There were
still so many places I wanted to explore before I went back to an 8-5 job with
insurance and responsibility and limited time off. So, I kept traveling.
In May, I planned my final drive up the East Coast from Charleston to Maine, but then ... I hesitated.
Something inside me was saying stop. No more. Just breathe. I believe
wholeheartedly in following instincts / intuition. Whether it’s my subconscious
alerting me to information, a heavenly spirit, schizophrenia, or just common
sense, mine has always been overactive and very vocal.
So, I stopped. I
stopped moving and I pondered what to do next. Should I look for a recreation
job within a city? Maybe, but where? I previously held tourism jobs (resort and
cruise ship), a recreation job (programs), maybe it was time to utilize the
parks side of my “Recreation, Parks & Tourism Sciences” degree. After all
my travels, I’d been to 46 of the 59 National Parks. That had to hold some sway
over a parks hiring panel, right?
But...nothing fit.
Some jobs were in beautiful places, but...too far. Some jobs were in
Houston/Dallas, but...something held me back from applying. After almost a year
of traveling, what was I still looking for?
Then...one day in June,
I knew. What would make me the happiest was controlling my life by working for
myself while helping others. So, I started a home organizing business (read
more about that here). I registered for the
national organization (NAPO), took a few classes, became certified, and am
continuing to learn as I take oh so many more classes. I’m happy to report that
it seems to come naturally. But more importantly, it suits me and I genuinely
enjoy doing it. I always said that if I wanted to stay in shape and remain healthy,
I needed an active job (especially as traveling caused me to quickly gain
20 pounds…which is a whole new article regarding packaged foods, lack of good
sleep, and sedentary driving). Organizing fit the active bill as I’m constantly
moving. After the first few jobs, I was SORE. Who knew sitting on a hard floor
for a few hours organizing baby clothes could cause such pain/soreness in the
hips? Unpacking boxes upon boxes upon boxes of books. Excellent workout!
Standing on my feet for 6 or 7 hours? Yes, please.
So, I set up a
website, talked to a few friends about the details, researched and read article
after article on what I needed to do to start and run a business. Then came the
question of “where”. Where do I set it up? One friend suggested I become a
traveling organizer, but at this brainstorming point, I was tired. Down to my
soul, tired of the travel. Tired of not having a home base. Tired of always
feeling tired, never rested. I craved a place where I could escape by myself
and not have to speak to another person, or worry about leaving dirty clothes
on the floor, or if I was intruding on someone else’s life. So, the question
became Houston or Dallas? Family or friends?
It’s...strange for me.
Growing up, we moved every year and I became adept at making superficial best
friends (SBFF). It wasn’t until high school and then again when I settled in
Dallas that I formed deeper connections (outside of family). If this year
taught me anything, it was that I have amazing friends. Sure, some friends were
lost during this time, but many friendships were made stronger. A few even became
lifers. On the other city, Houston puts me near parents, a brother/SIL,
adorable twin nephews, aunts, high school besties, and so many cousins.
It’s a no brainer,
right? The family connection. Staying with my parents in between trips made me
feel that connection again (since age 20, I hadn’t lived closer than 5 hours to
any family member). To be surrounded by people that genuinely care about you.
Your well-being, your mental health, the words you speak. They take care of you.
Love you. For the last 12 years, I’ve been without that. Friends…friends are
great, but most of the time, with most of the people, it’s superficial, everyone
focused on their own struggles, their own needs. Parents? Family? They care. I
felt cherished and spoiled and loved, and I wanted more of it and I want to
give it to my nieces (maybe one day) and nephews.
[Now, if I can just
convince 1 (or 2) people to move south…!]
So, the pressure is
on: I signed a 12 month lease (slight panic attack, butterflies, anxiety, yet
so much joy) in Houston, walking distance to trails and restaurants and a
twenty minute drive to family. It’s on me to find clients, to succeed. But I
love it. I enjoy working. I love helping people (when I first meet a client,
they are stressed. They’ve essentially avoided a space and have no idea where
to start. Then I come in and bring organization to the chaos and suddenly, they
can breathe. A physical weight has been removed from their shoulders. Love that.).
I don’t know what the
future will bring, if when my travel bug returns (because I know it will), I’ll
be drawn to another 60 days of traveling while living out of a backpack or
truck. Or if I’ll be content to have a roof over my head, surrounded by family
and friends, taking monthly (or annual) trips.
I know I am committed
to building my business and determined to design a life around what’s important
(the people) and who’s important (me and my physical and mental health).
I know that life is
short. People die every day, sometimes unexpectedly, sometimes with painful
advance notice. And accepting a content life is not only boring, it’s sad. Life shouldn’t depress you or leave you uninspired. Reach for more. Find joy and peace. Call the friends and family that uplift you and make plans with them. Today. Then discover what makes your soul smile and spread that energy to make others’ souls smile.
I asked for a sign
before quitting my job. It was given to me. I asked for a sign when I started
my business. It was shown to me. I ask myself if I’m where I need to be and
everything within me shouts YES. YES. YES.
I hope that when your inner
self shouts at you to take action, you listen.
SFK
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