Quitting the Suburbs

Surprise! A massive life change is in the works...

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It started as a low hum of dissatisfaction in the mornings, putting pepperoni slices alongside chunks of Persian cucumbers in my kiddo’s bento box.

Or showing my extra annoyed face when I would forget on occasion to put in a packet of his favorite apple sauce, or two fun-size bags of Skittles for him and best friend.

Ah, I thought, maybe it was because we didn’t get to see the sun rise on our drive to school.

On another day, I justified the reason as being that I’m tired. Or the pollen levels were particularly high that day. Or my son rushing to the car before the morning rush hour really got going.

But the low hum kept nagging me. Living this way no longer felt enough.

Sure, I am in a loving relationship. My son is a pleasant kid — minus the occasional whinging about god-knows-what.

Plus, the community I’ve built since moving here has been lovely, and I’ve been able to regularly visit my favorite secret spots at the beach or hiking trails during the week.

My work allows me to get creative and offers me the flexibility in my schedule I’ve come to crave. Money-wise, we have more than enough to get by.

Still.

I’ve asked myself over and over again if it’s because I have “the itch,” that I’ve stayed in one place too long. That that was the reason I was ready to move somewhere else.

Everything seemed to bug me. There weren’t decent Asian supermarkets near me, or the political situation here is no longer tolerable (it isn’t, but that’s a story for another day). I tried to convince myself that this is what adulting is about, staying when it feels boring, hard, or mundane.

A spark manifested after school, when my husband would come home and share some of the outrageous ways his work treated him and other colleagues.

Except these stories weren’t of annoying meetings and such.

I could tell it wore on his soul.

“What if we had the opportunity to take a break from it all?” I blurted out.

“Like sell the house and get the hell outta here?” he joked.

My great-uncle held my hand in his the other week, looked me straight in the eye and told me that I might as well go on the adventure my husband and I have planned while we are young. Wanting to make a change is enough.

I wanted to look away, embarrassed at the tears welling up in my eyes. But I didn’t, because I wanted to hold onto this moment, to someone who didn’t think I was crazy.

I guess the joke’s on us because we really did sell the house. After tying up a few loose ends, we’re traveling throughout the UK and Europe in the fall for a few months.

What’s next is a big question mark, but I know I’m ready to quit living the American suburban life (for now) and trust my intuition as to what’s next.

In the next several weeks, I’ll be documenting the move and how I’m navigating such a massive change.

Some will be a mix of the practical matters (like what does enough possessions look like at this stage in my life, and how do I know I’ll have packed enough on our travels?).

Some will deal with the emotional side (like, what will my family say? How will we deal with not having a homebase and all the comforts we’re used to? How do I remain present while balancing the anticipation of the future?)

I’m so excited for what's to come and can’t wait to share more.