Tag: digital nomad

I have a confession to make. If you’ve been following my blog for a while then you know that I’ve made a lot of posts talking about my goals and aspirations for the future. A lot.
I’ve always been goal oriented. I’m rarely satisfied with anything though I have learned that for my own mental well-being, I better try to be. Perfection is an illusion. A mirage. And if we keep chasing it for too long, we’re bound to crack. It’s just that simple.

That being said, even though my goals have stayed pretty consistent (get a masters/return to school at some point, develop a career that allows me the freedom to dedicate myself to my true passions: learning languages and traveling, and settle down in another country permanently; get my own place, put down new roots), somehow reaching them or simply feeling satisfied in the steps I’ve taken toward reaching them hasn’t been easy.

A part of me doesn’t understand why. I’ve always been a decisive person. I decided to go to a school for gifted students in high school; I got accepted. I decided to study Spanish and become fluent. I found a way. I decided to move to Colombia. I decided to leave. Upon reflection, some goals are harder to define than my simple impulses to travel and be free. And until they are defined, I cannot be single-mindedly driven towards them.

Now, in my second year of using my parents’ house as a home base, I keep asking myself why I feel stuck here. To be honest, I am so happy with some things in my life. I chose to challenge myself and learn as much as I can. I left a toxic work environment. I decided to put my health (mental and physical) first, and I have. I went home to give my family the chance I denied them in my 20’s to form a meaningful relationship. Yet sometimes I still feel like a failure for doing this.

You see, from high school, I had made up my mind. I didn’t want to stay in this shit town (*cue angsty emo/pop punk “I hate this town” mashup*). Being around my family stripped me of my identity and made me feel like I didn’t know myself or feel secure. I never felt like I belonged. I had a very traumatic time growing up here. The 2000’s were rough, man.

So, I chose a college in New Orleans, my favorite city in the state. I moved to California after I graduated. I hit a wall there and that pushed me to move to Colombia, which had been my goal from the beginning — moving to a Latin American country. Colombia just so happened to choose me.

All the time, I was avoiding moving back home at all costs, but financially speaking, I struggled a lot in California. I couldn’t afford to get a Master’s right out of college. I couldn’t afford to pay rent without putting myself in uncomfortable living situations (and boy did I have some weird roommate experiences that are much funnier in retrospect).

On top of that, I also hold a lot of academic trauma. My school years, from that LSMSA (Louisiana School for Math, Science and the Arts) to college, were extremely stressful. I always filled my schedule because I genuinely enjoy learning, but my anxiety was through the ceiling. I needed to do it all, and I put immense pressure on myself to succeed, to be a straight-A student (fun fact: the only class I made a B in was Latin American Political Science).

When I succeeded, I was on the brink of panic before doing public speaking of any kind. I managed, but at a huge mental cost. At the root, I believe I had (and have) a fear of being seen — be it positively or negatively.

Fast-forward back to the present. I’m sitting in a room lent to me by my parents. I could get my own place, but what would the point be if I spend most of my time traveling? The thing that makes my life feel meaningful. Why trade that money for a house that will likely be destroyed by a hurricane or uproot to a place I am not truly interested in? I haven’t decided where I want to build the rest of my life. I’m still stuck in the place in between.

It’s a matter of cultural perspective, you see. In parts of East Asia, there’s even a term for adults who continue living with their parents instead of settling down: “Parasite Singles.”

No, it’s not adults trying to rejoin with their mothers and return to the womb. Yeah, surprised me too. Part of the definition as I’ve heard it is that they choose to spend the money they save by living with parents to, you guessed it: travel or otherwise give themselves the life they couldn’t afford living on their own.

I felt so called out, not gonna lie. Still, this is a cultural thing — in Colombia, most people live with their parents until they decide to form their own families or move to another city. Honestly, in this economy, could you even blame them? I’m not the only one that makes their living in an unconventional way: not salaried, technically freelance, trying to carve my own path. In Latin America, it’s viewed as practical to live with family, and everyone helps out. This follows with how family and community-focused Colombian culture is in particular.

But, in the US? People assume I’m younger than I am — in a way that is not flattering, to be honest. Because seriously, what kind of 30 year old lives at home? It’s hard to separate myself from the judgement I know exists in this culture. My parents have expressed they’re happy to have me back, but the narrative I was plugged into was something of a prodigal daughter.

I’ll be honest. I have wanted to run so many times. Just throw a dart at a map and go there. I have never been strong enough to fully disregard what other people think about me. And that brings me back to what I believe has been holding me back in so many aspects: my insecurity. I recognize that I don’t feel like I’m enough — good enough, smart enough, talented enough, hardworking enough, successful enough. You name it.

Is it true? It’s what my dark half tells me, the way I’ve felt ever since I was little. I look around and can’t stop comparing myself to others. It makes it really hard for me to think clearly about what I want. It twists everything inside me to should’s instead of true convictions. Unfortunately, the last time I was in therapy, I felt no closer to figuring out how to separate it all. I think I might need more than talk therapy. But that’s for another post.

The confession is: this is my reality. I look like I’m living the dream. And in some ways, I am. But I also have all of these demons weighing on me, the pressure I feel and impose on myself. I feel like I’m not reaching my full potential, I feel afraid, I feel uncertain about the future. Untethered. And it’s been 2 years now. I thought I would have figured this out sooner.

I wish I could wrap this all up with a bow, but I decided to be vulnerable and expose my true experiences living with my parents. This is not where I want to be, and it’s not where I’m going to stay. As much as I love my family, there was some truth in what I felt when I was young — being here is stifling. Even so, I’m glad I came home. I’m glad I reconnected with friends — I’m grateful to know that I have so many great people in my life that are ready to welcome me back anytime I return. There may be no future here, but I have tried to use the present and live in it fully.

Focusing on self-development and discipline, really committing myself to my projects and passions — that is what living with my parents has given me. In a time when the world is full of instability and uncertainty, I’m happy to know I can come back whenever I want. I’m equally relieved to know that I also have a home in Colombia and the freedom to “court” other countries until I find the home of my future, a place where I can invest and hopefully become a homeowner one day.

Will some people misunderstand what I’m doing now? No doubt. There are always multiple sides to every story, and our lives are fuller than any single, simple narrative angle. I guess I’m also still learning to care less about what other people think, to define my identity separate from the expectations. Some things take time to sink in. But I promise you if I know anything, it’s that everything is transient. I may not be doing it the normal way, but I am working towards building a future I can be not only proud of, but present in.