Hey everyone,
In my twenties, when all my friends were saving their money to fund retirements and buy homes, and investing in their future, I was traveling.
I took on assignments based on how much travel they’d be able to fund. $100 would get me somewhere close to Delhi (where I lived); $200-500 and I could go to a different state; more than $1,000 and I could travel abroad. Well, within Asia.
A large part of the reason I focused on making money early on was so I could make that $1 a word that would fund my travel, sometimes for months at a time.
When I met Sam, it surprised me to find that he’d been doing exactly the same thing. At the time, we both had nice incomes and we both had nothing tangible to show for it. Our families judged us for this. They thought us reckless for “wasting” money that could have been spent on buying cars, homes and things on just “running all over the place.” We were both often compared unfavorably to our siblings, who had taken more conventional life paths. Still, we both knew exactly where we found our happiness, and that’s exactly where we invested our money.
Fast forward fifteen years. Sam and I still don’t own a home, and our friends from back in the day have still never lived abroad. They keep waiting for retirement to do the things they’d wanted to do in their twenties. We keep reinvesting the money we earn into education—ours and our son’s. We still haven’t bought a home.
We all reaped the benefits of our decisions–and the losses.
Until last year, I sometimes questioned whether we made the right decision in prioritising our immediate desires over long-term goals like building wealth or buying a house. This year, for the first time, I became so clearly confident in not only the choices I made twenty years ago, but the choices I’m making now that do not fall in line with the milestones the world lays out for us, or the things we’re supposed to do and have by a certain time in our lives.
I’m so glad that I traveled in my twenties because while I will always be able to buy the things, I will never be able to relive the experiences. And if I don’t, and I die without having ever acquired said things, well, who cares? Now, with a husband and a child, I may be able to go on holidays (post-COVID, obvs), but I will never be able to recreate the experiences I had living with monks, teaching them English while they cooked me food, going on bike rides with people I’d met just four hours ago in countries I’d only just arrived in, and landing up in places that I didn’t know with no plan or agenda. I’m especially glad that I didn’t put roots down in cities and countries that I sort of thought I liked, but was never truly in love with.
Because two years ago, I found it. A city I love that I’m happy to spend my life in. I still remember the first time I stepped out of the car and onto the streets of Kemptown in Brighton, UK. I knew, right then and there, that I had come home. (It’s where we now live.)
I realized that while I’d been making the right decisions all along, what had been missing was my belief in those decisions.
My belief in myself.
I opted out of the “normal” and desired way of doing things a long time ago. But last year, I opted out of everything that doesn’t feel like a fit in my life. This time I’m doing so with a lot of confidence and ease.
I’ve opted out of social media for the most part. I don’t obsessively read– and post reactions about– the news. I’ve opted out of toxic relationships. I’ve opted out of toxic conversations. I’ve opted out of other people’s expectations and opinions.
That last one has extended to the writing world and the writing community.
I’m no longer interested in what impresses people.
I’m interested in taking huge creative risks, and enjoying the time I spend doing the work that brings me joy.
I’m opting out of the image of success that mainstream society tells us to hold.
I spend my days sitting by the window, looking out at the sea, sipping endless cups of tea and doing the thing that I most love– writing. I get to make money doing this. I get to inspire other writers to create similar lives and share what I’ve learned so they don’t have to do it the hard way.
That’s success to me. There’s nothing else I ever wanted. Now I’m living it.
Any external success that comes beyond this would be wonderful and welcome, but I no longer need it to prove anything, even to myself.
I’m opting out of the need to impress people with a list of my achievements.
I’m doubling down on just creating things instead.
It’s not been easy. In fact, it’s an entirely new way of approaching my career for me. But I have realized that it is necessary if I am to find lasting happiness in my work.
And so the journey continues…
Is there anything you need to opt out of for the sake of your happiness or sanity? I’d love to know.
Cheers,
Natasha