Settling Down After Being Nomadic for 6 Years

When I quit my job to travel the world, I wanted to be nomadic forever. Before traveling, I struggled to stay in one place for over six months. I always wondered what else was out there, with the dream of living a nomadic lifestyle.

After all, being nomadic was in my blood; my parents were nomadic until they had children. Since I chose not to have children, I saw no reason to stay in one place; in my opinion, it was overrated.

Yet, I always had a steady job. I worked at one hospital for eight years and lived in Southern California for 15 years, which makes you think, well, you seem settled. I wish. I moved apartments every six months to a year; I must have lived in over ten places in Los Angeles.

That was my own defiance and a way for me not to settle. One year, I signed a year’s lease, and my friends were in shock!

When you live in one area, especially in LA, that is the only thing you see. When I lived in DTLA( Downtown LA), I never went to Santa Monica; it was too far and too much traffic.

When I lived in SoRo (South Robertson), I never went to DTLA. I got to know every area of LA very well, so I essentially lived semi-nomadic around Los Angeles/Orange County for 15 years.

Except that was not enough.

It did not fulfill my need for more, the hunger to get out and see the world, to live nomadically around the world, not just in California. When I began traveling, it was great; I first traveled way too fast and eventually learned to slow travel.

I would not feel guilty spending weeks in places where most would only spend two days. I would volunteer and stay grounded for months.

I loved slow traveling. Then, 2020 happened and forced me to stop. When travel opened back up, I traveled even slower, sometimes stopping, which led me to spend a year living in Colombia. It was at this point that I realized that I was done.

After I left Colombia and traveled to Israel and Georgia last summer, that was the nail in the coffin.

I had no desire to see another sight, and the thought of traveling to another country dealing with immigration, money exchange, and language issues made me decide I had enough.

It was similar to how I quit my nursing career; you are just done after so long. Plus, I knew that I eventually wanted to return to Colombia, and instead of volunteering on farms, I wanted to host volunteers. I wanted to have the vision instead of fulfilling someone else’s vision.

I loved volunteering over the past six years, but I wanted something to call mine, even if it’s only a rental house with a yard.

Eventually, I’ll find something to call my own.

Sometimes I think ¨am I ready to quit the nomadic lifestyle¨?

When I found out last week that I had to leave where I was living, I thought it was no big deal. I would travel around Colombia and continue traveling around countries again, and then it hit me: I would not be happy doing that.

I changed.

Since I got back to Colombia last November, I only wanted to find a place to call home. I never realized half of my nomadic journey was spent searching for a ¨home¨ — my definition of a home.

For the past six years, my home has been my backpack and me, and that was it. Then, slowly stopped.

Nomading, I lacked routine and connection, and the biggest issue was that I no longer wanted to keep searching.

When I nomad around, my energy is scattered.

I have trouble figuring out what I want because I am always moving, and if I am not moving well, I am thinking about moving and what my next destination is.

Then, my routine, if I have formed a short one, is disrupted on travel days, and it depends on where I stay, how loud the place is, whether I can work, and how the Wi-Fi is. I felt constantly on edge.

I longed for the days to unpack my backpack and put it away, to set a routine with my writing, but I am still struggling since I am in limbo yet again.

I am not traveling at the moment, but not having something that is mine is unsettling.

Since I realized I wanted to buy land, I knew I would not feel settled until that goal happened. Although I am no longer nomadic, even moving house is causing me anxiety.

I know exactly what I want, and now I am searching for it: a home.

I want something that is mine, not one that I have to leave because the landlord told me to move or the business closed.

So, I stopped being a nomad because it is a lifestyle that is not sustainable for my future.

Maybe in the future, I will long-term travel again, but first, I want a home, and to know that I will always have a home base waiting for me.

I loved traveling and exploring the world. However, I have felt unsettled and constantly moved since I was 13, so it has been a long time since I was finally ready to have a place to call home.

There are so many reasons people can list for stopping nomading, but for me, it is just that I was ready.

As I get older, I think about what I want to gain. I spent so much time searching for this invisible ¨thing or purpose, ¨ and after all of this, the only answer I found was to stop, ground, and return to what I know.

What I know are the mountains, the birds, the rivers, and the plants.

They call to me as the day calls to the night, the sun calls to the moon, death calls to life, and light calls to the dark.

There is no answer, only questions. Once, I was called to run, so I ran; now, I am being called to stop, so I stop.

I am done searching. I am home.

XOXO

S

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