At 35, I left.
My biggest worry as a young girl was that I’d turn into one of “those adults” — the ones drifting through life with no passion while time passes aimlessly.
Then I became one. Five years into a corporate career, after I’d mastered the presentations, hit the targets, and impressed the bosses, a ten-year-old girl inside me started asking me to wake up.
“Don’t live a life you’ll regret,” she’d say. “Stop wasting your time.”
So I bought a one-way ticket. One bag. No return date.
Stepping into the unknown was coming home.
A castle in France. Circling retreats in the Netherlands. Six months writing in LA and San Francisco. Then Costa Rica, where I met my partner at a beach party under a full moon — just before the world shut down.
What I found out there wasn’t a better place. It was a different way of living, one I could take with me anywhere.
Today I live in Amsterdam with my partner and our two kids. I’m still finding cages I didn’t know I’d built.
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