Once upon a time, I did everything I was "supposed" to do. I went to school. Got into some debt. I graduated and got a job. Went to work, answered phone calls, headed home. After work, I would crash. Usually, I would turn on the TV or grab a bottle of wine for distraction. Or buy more things with money that I didn't have. On the best days, I could light up a bowl. Always waiting until the weekend only to repeat the same thing again. Living paycheck to paycheck, round and round I went. All in pursuit of the American dream.
I was miserable.
Yet I did absolutely nothing to change the situation. After all, this is what I was "supposed" to be doing. To think otherwise was childish. Or at least that is the story I told myself.
Truthfully, this was not the path I wanted to take. Not at all. I felt like a bird whose wings had been clipped. I wanted a life rich in experience not in things. I wanted to put my writing to use. I wanted to travel to places I had never been to. I wanted to get outside of my comfort zone. Call me a dreamer but I learned from a young age tomorrow is never a guarantee.
Loss at a young age changes your perspective.
But I was submissive about the path I was headed. It seemed safe. And truthfully, I didn't know if other options even existed.
Then one day I reached a breaking point. The startup I had put so much of my time and energy into was going downhill fast. Tensions were high. I realized the people I had worked for only cared about lining their pockets. They wanted to make as much money as possible by doing as little as possible. If I stayed there any longer, it would be soul sucking. I couldn't go down with a sinking ship.
So, I walked into my boss's office a week later and gave him my two weeks.
I even went so far as to write out my resignation and hand him the printed copy. It was a glorious moment. He asked me who I was going to work for next. I told him myself. His jaw dropped. Which then quickly turned into a chuckle. Maybe he thought I was kidding. Yet there was also a part of him which knew I was absolutely serious.
There was only one problem.
I had no idea what I was doing. In fact, I had just found out about working online a few weeks prior during my random job search. Could I really get paid to work online? Or was it just some sketchy internet scheme? Most people seemed to think the latter. After all, I didn't know a single freelance writer at the time. Everyone I knew who was working online had major money to their name or had serious tech skills to freelance with. Neither of which I possessed. But I made the decision that even I epically failed, I had to try. Otherwise I would spend the rest of my life wondering what if.
If there was one thing I always knew how to do, it was write.
Looking back, writing was the one constant throughout my life. For as long as I can remember I've been writing. From the middle school newspaper to the countless journals I kept as a child, I always felt an inexplicable connection to the written word. I also knew it was something I was good at. No, I didn't go to school for it. I got a business degree with a concentration in H.R. believe it or not. Yet, writing was where I excelled. I was always the kid who was that one "writing friend." I edited papers, helped friends' with their resumes, and even wrote blogs for a few business owners I knew. But I had never considered writing a career.
Until I became serious about it.
For too long writing was just this distant thing in my life. I thought about writing a lot but rarely did anything with it. It was much easier to just think about it than to physically do something. But what a mistake that was! The moment I decided to actively commit to my writing, make self-education a priority, and truly listen to my higher voice – everything changed.
It didn't happen overnight. In fact, it is still very much in process.
However, I've learned a lot.
I took countless leaps of faith. I woke up at 5am and worked until 12am just to finish an article. Pitched until I didn't think I could send another email again. Edited articles every weekend. Saved for months to buy my first set of business cards.
Over time, writing helped me find myself again.
I turned off my television and tuned into my creative muse. I stop caring about filling up my home with possessions and instead looked to fulfill my soul.
I sold everything I owned to travel abroad.
Went trekking through the jungle.
Wrote about cannabis from 3 different countries.
Swam in the Caribbean.
Took suicide showers in Costa Rica
Ate rambutan for the first time in my life
Road my rusty beach cruiser through the streets of Puerto Viejo
Launched Women of Cannabiz
Sunbathed while listening to reggeaton
Came face to face with a crocodile in the wild
Danced the night away under the stars
Enjoyed traditional sopa mexicana
Cantered along the beach full speed on horseback.
Saw more bugs than I ever imagined possible
Cleaned the beach while watching the sun rise.
Lived in the jungle in Costa Rica
Witnessed more seaside sunsets than I can count.
For the first time in my adult life, I truly felt free.
A life where travel was often, writing was constant, and the beach was always nearby.
This blog is to share my experience in manifesting these desires and the exploration of my many interests – writing, wellness, travel, remote work, cannabis, and culture. I hope to offer practical advice, inspiration, and musings from my journey.