Pardon the interruption from the regularly scheduled self-deprecating shenanigans, tomfoolery and delight (for me anyway). We’ll return to tales of ridiculousness as I gallivant around Canada for another four weeks in short order. But as I close in on my last week in Quebec before heading east to Fredericton, New Brunswick, my mind can’t help but linger on the sacrifices that come standard with any and all life choices.

I have encountered scores and scores of people in the past 4 weeks to whom I’ve had the pleasure of explaining how my life works as a digital nomad.  That I have a couple of nonnegotiable guardrails that somewhat limit the field, but for the most part I can live wherever I damn well please, for as long as it suits me.  And I do so while holding down a job with a company that encourages me to do what makes me happy.

And 4 weeks into this life I can undoubtedly say that I am more content, joyful, and peaceful than I have ever been in my entire adult life.  

The reactions cover the entire spectrum – shock, curiosity, excitement, pride (Montrealers)…a lot of people are really taken aback to come across someone choosing a “normal” place such as Montreal to roost in as a nomad. 

I can’t wait until I’m living in Tallahassee, FL and Charleston, WV which are two stops I have planned for 2027.  Just think how welcoming folks will be there to meet a real life digital nomad.  I may as well show up as the bearded lady.  I will be a spectacle never before seen in those parts.

But the reaction that would be #1 on Family Feud by a loooooooooong shot is not quite jealousy, but longing.  I have heard, “I wish I could do that” at least 38 times.  Of course those people hear about all the awesome things I’m doing – the nature I’m skipping through, the cuisine I’m inhaling, the magical experiences I’m having, the lifelong friendships I’m forging.

But they don’t know the full story – I’ll gladly burst their bubble if they give me a minute.  Or an hour.  Or 5.

For you parents – there is no Christmas morning gift opening joy in my life.  There is no Easter Bunny.  I don’t have first recitals, concerts, or bike rides.  There is no first homerun or touchdown.  I don’t get to watch my own child go apeshit over a Bluey themed surprise birthday party.

Those of you with spouses, partners, significant others – there is no one to ask me about my day.  There is no one to share excitement, pride and exuberance with when something extraordinary happens. There is no one to hold and comfort me when life launches a crotch kick. There is no one to hug and kiss when I wake up and go to bed.  There are seasons of life during which I go a month or more without a hug.

I don’t have a home.  Sure, Chicago is where I’m from but that hasn’t been home in a long, long time.  I don’t have familiar kitchen appliances, get to use the laundry whenever I want, have a backyard I can walk barefoot in.  A garden to cultivate.  A can’t miss napping spot.  

I choose not to bring a pet along for the ride I’m on to keep options open.  I’ve lived with dogs, cats, rodents, lizards, fish and even tarantulas.  Shit, I would even love just to have my own plants.  I’ll say it til the day I die – who doesn’t love being surrounded by living things that don’t poop?  There is happiness in caring for those living things.

I hardly own anything anymore. Some clothes. A Nespresso machine. A blender. A guitar. A computer monitor. A few camping essentials. A handful of sentimental items stored in my oldest friend’s basement. 

There is loneliness.  

A lion’s share of it.  

Fuck it, an elephant’s share. 

I’ve seen Stonehenge and the Great Pyramids of Giza.  I’ve climbed Norway’s famous Trolltunga and Scotland’s Old Man of Storr.  I turned 45 this year from the coast of the Isle of Skye in the Scottish Highlands.  Sitting at a picnic table in the backyard of my AirBNB with a Heineken 0.0% and a killer view of Loch Portree.  

Alone.  

Sometimes the most jaw-droppingly beautiful landscapes and fascinating, inexplicable works of human history can feel quite hollow when there’s no one to wrap your arm around and pull close.  To sigh into, to share in the ecstasy of discovery.  

I absolutely, 100% fucking LOVE the life I have chosen.  I wouldn’t change it for anything.  I’m just beginning and I may nomad for the next 10 years.  It’s the life that is best suited for me and you’ll not hear hide or hair of a complaint or whine.

Every life comes with a bill to pay.  Marriage. Partnership. Proximity to loved ones. The job you love. Children. Pets.  Pricetags littered across them all. 

My invoice just arrives in a different font. Some sacrifice freedom for safety. Some sacrifice comfort for adventure. Some trade independence and solitude for family.

No one gets to have ALL the bright, shiny things in life.  But if you know what you want then you’ll know what it’s worth to you and you’ll be willing to sign on the dotted line and pay what’s due.

We’re all making sacrifices, the question is – will you make those sacrifices count?