I Quit My Job. I Moved For You. Now What?

Published in the Santa Barbara Sentinel under the pen name Elizabeth Rose.  Chris is known as “Jason” in the I Heart stories.

It took a trip back home to notice how much my life has changed in the last two months.

I left my job, my bachelorette pad, I gave away the majority of my clothing, cut my hair (by 12 inches), said goodbye to friends, and left the comforts of traditional indoor plumbing among others.

And I was okay with it.

Moving to California and figuring out a way to pay the bills as a writer was at the top of my list of personal goals, and I thank the powers above that I was actually able to actually do it.

So when the opportunity arose to sail to Mexico with the love of my life, I felt fulfilled enough in those goals to take the risk.

I traded the little world I manifested for myself for an adventure of a lifetime.

But the adventure has been put on hold. The life I prepared for morphed into a life I never thought it would have.

As the French say, c’est la vie.

Plans changes, things happen.

Building A New Life

I was confident I could bounce back and figure out a way to get by.

This “la la la” mentality acted as a safety harness to make the big jump.

People do it all the time, I thought. I’ve built a life for myself and I can do it again.

So I took a deep breath and made an effort to acclimate to my surroundings.

I got a new license with my new address, settled into my new home (of about 28-by-9-feet living space), applied for jobs (so far, to a publishing company, a weed store, as a personal assistant, and Uber.)

Got used to nuances of sailboat life (no refrigeration, no indoor shower, no closet, no extra space), and sought comfort in a new way to exist.

The Road Less Traveled Is A Bumpy One

But it has not been easy.

I struggle every day to keep positive, and I’ve discovered the culprit.

For the first time, I realize that I have no goal, no huge accomplishments to conquer.

I feel no real purpose for being in this new environment.

This grey area made me realize I hadn’t visualized life after the sailing around the world.

That I’ve never thought about what a future could look like with a partner.

I took a moment to check-in.

I dug around beneath the mental noise and uncomfortable emotional situations, and I found bigger questions that needed answers:

What do I really want out of all of this?

And most of all, what am I not willing to give up?

In a weird way, I find comfort in this uncertain state.

That it’s okay to be bored, confused, and a little scared.

And that one day I’ll look back with compassion over these growing pains and admire the steps I took to make it through.

Maybe for some of us, it takes trading in the familiar to understand what’s most important.