On New Year’s day 2025, I headed off to start my digital nomad journey touring the midwest, stopped in the pacific islands at one point, then finished off the year on the east coast.
Funny, I really didn’t notice how all over the map I was until now.
Every place I ventured in the states, had its own groove to ease into, to acclimate and adjust to. Who knew that weaving through American subcultures would become a life muscle I’d have to flex often? Eventually it just became a way I live my life.
Then there’s the unfamiliarity in those zoomed in facets like getting around in the burbs, countryside, and somewhat rural areas of the States like Tennessee – but that’s just the logistics of getting around.
If I got off a train or bus anywhere in the states, I could easily get myself in the direction where I need to go. And it’s not because I have an awesome sense of direction. It’s from getting lost more than I can count. That’s what built the confidence to find my way through the public transportation system.
Compare that to getting off the train or plane in Europe? Now that’s a whole different beast that tested my confidence. I needed to put a lot more brain power, effort and time into figuring out how to get around. There was no north star to refer to, or at least one that I didn’t know of yet. My sense of direction was nonexistent.
And then I got to England.
My first stop across the pond. Very new and unexplored territory to me. The extent of my prior visits, before my nomad venture, was Heathrow Airport. Everything beyond that was new and unfamiliar. A different kind of unfamiliarity from wandering around unknown parts of the states. It felt more intimidating.
At least with being from the states and moving around in it for a greater part of my life, there’s a version of familiarity to me. From the different people, places, and food, I know how life works there.
But on the other side of the big pond, some nations are centuries, no, more like millennia old. A world that’s lived many lives before the states existed. And honestly, I’m in awe of it.
That’s the kind of unfamiliarity that is so new, big and overwhelming to me. It felt like I was about to walk into a movie, an indie flick where I’m the screen writer, director, and actor entering into a differently shaped world. No script, every move led by an open mind to adapt and adjust to an unfamiliar world.
Stepping off the plane in Heathrow immediately had me feeling out of sorts in so many different ways. The variety of accents. The many different languages/dialects being spoken around me. People naturally stand on the right side of escalators to make room for people to pass on the left. Elevators that don’t give floor numbers, instead you see positive one or negative one for the different floors.
Definitely a different experience from landing in an airport of any city in the states. Even though they might be ones that I’ve never been to before, they still seem to have that familiar feel to them in their own way. The visuals and the interactions may vary from one city to another but that’s about it. That is not the same in England.
It was so new in a bright and shiny kind of way, I caught myself laughing feeling like an awkward tourist. Observing everything around to where it felt like I was staring at things, people, everything in its newness to me.
Not to mention, I felt like the foreigner every time I opened my mouth. And not just a little foreign, being from a different neighborhood, or side-of-town kind of thing. Nope, I was now the one with an accent, who has no sense of direction.
When I was able to sit in environments like the London Underground experiencing the rush hour of switching from the Victoria line to the Piccadilly line or transferring from Cambridge to Newmarket, is when the newness started to fade and my confidence was given space to grow.
Gaining a new sense of spatial awareness, adopting daily life etiquette of standing on the right side of an escalator, and looking right then left when crossing the street all became a baseline of sorts found through surrounding noises, the people, and the food.
Through the lens of submerging self in the place, the experience, the everything, observing, learning and just being made the unfamiliar become familiar.
Living a digital nomad lifestyle, I’m constantly doing and adapting to all that is new at that moment.
New time zones. New beds to sleep in. Figuring out new ways to get around, foot paths, public transportation, new cars, and learning new routines or some kind of daily structure.
One of the biggest ‘new’ things for me as a nomad was the experience of traveling 24+ hours to my final destination filled with trains, planes, and automobiles. As one can imagine, it’s a whole lot that takes a toll on you mentally and physically.
For me, it took longer than I’d like to adjust and recover from traveling. My adjustment and recovery period is a mixed bag. It’s an internal conversation that starts with telling myself I’m being a baby in needing to rest. Then it’ll transition to the self-guilt spotlight, the monologue of how I’m wasting time not being outside, missing out on absorbing all that is new to me.
This was me experiencing FOMO for the first time, as if I was depriving myself of living my life.
My relationship with recovery is ever-changing. It’s now more of a cycle with different levels. Currently, when traveling more than a full day, I typically need 3-4 days to decompress and completely power down. This is me starting to give myself a bit more grace now. Don’t get me wrong, the mixed bag still exists. I’ve learned to let myself mute the conversation and extend the recovery period.
A week ago, it took over 30 hours to travel from Red Lodge, UK to Ottignies-Louvain-la-Neuve, Belgium, where I am now. Not only did my body have to adjust to riding and transferring trains, riding on a fully booked coach and ferry at 2 a.m., but my whole being had to adjust.
I’m having to be mindful of others around me. The bus mate sitting next to me. The big and small travel groups riding the ferry across the channel, everyone hustling to find a space to sprawl out and nap. And I’m well aware that this is all in my head and no one else’s. But being in another country and exhausted from traveling, the last thing I want to do is get into a verbal throwdown with a Karen of the world because I stood on the wrong side of the escalator, didn’t ‘mind the gap’ before hopping on the train, or anything I didn’t do according to other people’s standards.
Adjusting to people, the energy, my surroundings- that’s all mentally draining. And it doesn’t help that I’m constantly thinking. Because of this, being mindful in every way possible makes a girl tired. Not to mention the train stations. Having to ready myself to articulate words, communicate nonverbally, make sense of French signs while being aware of my surroundings, and fighting the foggy feeling to stay alert becomes a bit overstimulating.
Finally arriving at my accommodations in Ottignies-Louvain-la-Neuve, I checked in with my commitments there and excused myself by giving them full disclosure that I will be shutting down for 2-3 days.
I gave them the heads up that they may not see me come out of the room and not to be alarmed if they don’t. I’m still alive. I also apologized ahead of time if they take offense to me not engaging or interacting over the next few days. I explained that it’s necessary for me to take this time to reset my whole being, physically and mentally.
Those few days, I did nothing but let my mind and body zone in and out of naps. Carbing up paired with Netflix and chill was the whole itinerary. No physical movement. No human interaction. No thinking. I literally shut down. And this is what I do. This is me adjusting.
Before I became a digital nomad, I lived in one place for over 20 years.
This was where I raised my son for most of his life, rescued four-leggeds, entertained, built friendships, and made so many memories. Life life-d there until it came time for me to move on to my next, and I adopted the nomad lifestyle.
Being in between places and away from loved ones has different levels and layers that definitely mess with my emotions. I’m not immune to missing my family. I miss being able to grab them, squeeze them, and kiss their whole face.
When I do feel emotionally wrecked, I video chat to see their faces or call them to hear their voice. Once I talk to them, the loneliness feels less lonely, and I’m reminded why I chose this lifestyle. To be happy and full. Those aren’t even the best words to describe what I’m trying to say.
Then there are the emotions that come with being in between places. For me, it’s the anxiousness I feel before I get there. Dealing with trains, coaches, stations, and people. And it’s not feeling worried or having anxiety.
The feeling is more like anxious excitement. Having to be aware of where to go. Keeping track of my time so I don’t miss my ride to get to my final destination. Finding out where my lodging is located. Am I in the countryside, the forest, or an urban neighborhood? Excited to walk everywhere to get my bearings and see what’s near me.
As a nomad, I get to live life as a citizen of the world and not a full-time tourist/visitor. I have the opportunity to stay in multiple homes. Not Airbnbs, hotels or hostels, but people’s homes. Sometimes I’m staying in one to three homes in a month. And other times I could be in one home for two months. The time of stay varies. But each destination gives me a chance to life there, creating a home atmosphere for that duration of time. It’s comforting in a way.
Other than traveling, seeing all the new things, and experiencing all that I can, there’s still the ‘daily life’ part of it all. The side of getting up early to start my day, moving my body, washing up, feeding my brain, building an online business, maintaining relationships, staying sane – all the things that make up my life besides just traveling.
I’ve learned that I have to create some kind of something to incorporate the things that make me, me. Call it a routine, call it a structure, call it a baseline. All those things are what I create along the way. They change form and look different constantly, but not enough to where I can’t find it and lose it.
If those norms disappear, I’m struggling. My body feels like a boulder. My brain fog exists in a way that I can’t just blame it on hormones. My lack of motivation becomes more than I thought could be possible. And much more. It’s a very bad situation. While I’m in it, self-guilt weighs heavier than normal, and I end up sitting in that space longer than I’d like to.
The upside is, I eventually get back to my senses. That’s why I create things to grab and go back to. A baseline, a routine, a way of doing things. This is what helps me get through when I move between places and have to insert it.
Whenever I’m feeling off, not only from traveling but in my everyday life as a nomad, I take a moment to reconnect self with self – checking in to see where I am emotionally, physically, and mentally.
After arriving here in Ottignies-Louvain-la-Neuve, I gave myself about two days to rest. It was time to do a self-check-in with my whole being. My mental and emotional capacity was about 50% recovered.
I still wasn’t up to talking to people, but because connection helps me to recover, I focused on reconnecting with self through journaling or voice recording thoughts. Like how the Bercy-Seine Bus Station in Paris didn’t have waiting areas for passengers or how different it feels to be that guy with an accent everywhere I go.
Unfortunately, my mind and body don’t move at the same pace.
While mentally I was moving along, my body was still tired and sluggish. Most times I have to remind my body that in order for us to feel more like us, we need to do something physically. We need to move!
The following day I walked. Not far, just a loop around the neighborhood. Enough to feel the sun on me, air in my lungs, a bit more alive, and get a sense of my bearings.
Walking always helps my body remember why I love to be outside. I love wandering around, watching, listening, observing everything around me. I get to learn where the local markets are, different routes to take on foot or bus, and how to get back to where I’m staying without depending on Google Maps. Not only do I get familiar with my surroundings but with self too.
For me, journaling, walking, and sitting in the sun help me find some kind of familiarity in not only where I’m at and what I’m doing but who I am in all of it.
In all honesty, this lifestyle of being in different places, traveling by all the means of transportation and trekking across countries can be exhausting.
And let’s not forget, that there’s a lot of adapting and learning and then some that comes with it.
But what I’ve learned along the way, is to build, create, lean on things that help me return to me.
When I’m tired, I just want to feel like me again (whatever version that is at the time). When I’m sad, angry, or depressed, same thing. I just want to feel like me, not just the happy version but the full version of me, my returning point.
Sometimes it looks like taking a few steps outside or small movements like sitting back on my heels on the floor in child’s pose. I do these things to get my heart beating and my lungs filled with air. I do these things to bring me back to me.
No phones, no screens, just me. Sitting, breathing, releasing any and all feelings that block or overwhelm me.
Having a returning point and aids to help me get there plays a big role in my life. Keeps me from nonsense rabbit holes, being depressed, not taking chances, not learning new things, and the list goes on. Basically, it saves me from losing my sh!t.