The frost clings to my windshield as I scrape it off, waiting for my car to heat up before another long day of work. Skylar’s lunch is packed, her backpack filled with school necessities, and I’m rushing her out the door. In the car rider line, I sip my coffee in a freshly steamed blazer, blending in with the sea of parents in cars ahead and behind me. On paper, life is perfect: the dream job, the cutest house in the best part of town, and a top-tier school district. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if my progress is in vain.
Just two years ago, I was renovating a school bus with big dreams of life on the road—crafting an unconventional, adventurous childhood for my now six-year-old. Some days, I question which version of life is truly mine: the dream I built, or the one society whispered was ideal. As I’ve grown (and no, I’m not old, but your 20s do change you), I’ve realized how much I wanted to defy traditional life paths. I imagined myself as a badass single mom, adventuring with my daughter, thriving outside the constraints of capitalist norms. I craved the risk, the excitement, the independence.
But I didn’t anticipate the stress. The anxiety. The sheer weight of trying to maintain that life alone. I underestimated how much community and help I’d need—and how hard it is to keep a bus running solo. Changing the oil or tires on a bus is a whole different game from maintaining a car. Slowly, I came to terms with my limits. I’ve let go of some big dreams, realizing that breaking out of the norm is far more challenging than I imagined.
Yet, part of me believes that my desire to roam—to see everything this world offers—is intrinsic, impossible to suppress. Even as I walk through my ‘perfect’ life, I dream of fresh mountain air and the rhythm of slow, deep breaths as I climb to higher altitudes. I imagine 18-day rafting trips down the Colorado River or world-class climbing on the coast of Spain. I long to revisit places I’ve loved, staying long enough to feel like a local. I want to give Skylar cultural and worldly experiences I never had. But I also worry: Will I get stuck in the cycle of paying bills, chasing material comforts, and living ‘the American dream’? Or is the consistency of routine and structure what’s best for Skylar and me?
I know I’m not alone in this tug-of-war. Those of us who love the outdoors and unconventional living often grapple with this dilemma. The reality is, not everyone can quit their job, become an influencer, or find the perfect remote gig. There’s always sacrifice. Over the past few months, I’ve spoken with people living nomadic lives. A common thread in their stories? Loneliness. Running to new places often means running from something. For me, those things have always caught up, often at the worst moments—like locking myself out of my car in the middle of nowhere with no cell service.
Maybe this is a dilemma I will face for the rest of my life, attempting to find a balance between both sides. I might never have a perfect answer, and every season of life may look completely different than the next. But I’ve learned so much about myself over time, through therapy, self-reflection, and lived experience. Stability, consistency, and community have brought peace I never expected. I have experienced times of constant traveling and adventure followed by lulls of being a homebody. I am hopeful I’ll find the career and path that leads me closer to the outdoors and gives me the freedom of experiencing more places for longer. But, for now I’ve found joy in long weekend travels and weeknight climbing sessions; I’ve found so much adventure in the community I’ve built that has created more opportunities to experience new places and things.
I truly believe the beauty of each person’s life is in its unpredictability. There’s no way life would be as fulfilling if we knew exactly how it played out or had access to every life hack. The coolest thing is that we get to experience every high and low of whatever life we lead, and we get to learn and grow from all of it. Each of us is so unique and we all get the privilege of learning for ourselves and finding the best life for us. We get to decide what societal norms to embrace, and which ones feel like a bunch of bogus. We choose who plays a role in our lives and how we spend our time. Each day, we consciously decide what sacrifices we’re willing to make for the life we desire.
There’s no perfect formula of balance for the perfect life; in the end it boils down to understanding oneself. Some people will never fully have the privilege of discovering who they are and may struggle to find that equilibrium their entire lives. But for those of us that do the work, there is this incredible opportunity to craft a truly beautiful life; each one looking vastly different from the next.
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