The first week of my adult gap year has arrived, and with it, a sense of liberation I never knew I needed. I sit quietly in a hotel, my entire life packed into a 3x3 box. Why do things hold such meaning for us? We save up, we buy, we collect, we part with them—yet in the end, isn’t it the people, the experiences, and the moments that define our true sense of home? Don’t get me wrong, packing was a challenge. Negotiating what to bring for a 12-month journey across all seasons while staying within the 20-23kg limit was an exercise in patience. But as I peeled back the layers of ‘need,’ I uncovered the non-negotiables—the things that ground me: my yoga mat, my favourite crystals, an incense holder, and a few cherished pieces of jewellery that remind me of who I am, no matter where I wander.
This gap year isn’t just a vacation—it’s the beginning of a deliberate shift toward living more fully, exploring new ways of being, and embracing the freedom that comes with uncertainty. It’s about letting go of the rigid structures that have defined my identity for years and stepping into a life designed around passion, purpose, and presence.
Packing up a home for a long absence feels like a deep cleanse, a purge of the unnecessary. But this time, it wasn’t just about decluttering—it was about letting go. These objects once anchored me to a life I am temporarily stepping away from, a corporate existence that dictated my daily routine. With no job to report to, no fixed location to call home, the world is suddenly open—a vast map where every destination is a possibility. I am no longer working to live; I am living fully and intentionally.
Over coffee with a friend recently, we swapped stories about the grind of daily life, and I said something that struck me deeply: "I can’t keep doing. I need to just be." That’s what this journey is about. To exist in places long enough to absorb their culture, to feel them settle into my skin. To move at my own pace, unbound by schedules. I have been a dedicated employee since I was 14, and now, nearing 40, I realise I have spent so much of my life in service of someone else’s goals. What about my own? Teaching yoga showed me the joy of giving, of being part of a community. It was never about the money but about the connection—the warmth that comes from holding space for others. That’s the kind of richness I seek as I travel.
Strangely, I thought fear would have crept in by now, but it hasn’t. Maybe my brain still thinks this is just another holiday. I’ve worn so many identities in my career, shifting and blending into roles as needed, but now? Now, I meet myself as I am—no titles, no uniforms, no expectations.
This journey has been years in the making, always just out of reach. At 18, I planned to travel but stayed for love. At 22, I dreamed of van life around Australia, but responsibilities took precedence. Now, finally, everything has aligned—spurred by frustrations, a health scare, and the realization that ticking off societal checkboxes wasn’t bringing us joy. When my husband asked, "Where would you live if you could live anywhere?" my answer was simple: "I don’t know, but let’s go find out."
The reactions to our decision have been overwhelmingly supportive yet tinged with awe: "You’re so brave, so courageous, so inspiring." But truly, this is not bravery—it’s simply choosing to live. It makes me question the narratives we’ve been conditioned to believe: that we must work tirelessly, buy homes, have children, and climb endless ladders to find fulfilment. I had all of that—a successful career, a beautiful home, a loving partner—and yet, I felt trapped. My life had become predictable, devoid of spontaneity. Work, yoga, food, sleep. Repeat. My only escapes were photography and writing, fleeting moments where I felt truly alive.
Now, as I sit in a co-working space in Canggu, Bali, I see it clearly: none of those things were wrong, but they weren’t enough. They were chapters, but not the whole story. The job that once defined me has given me this opportunity, and for that, I am grateful. But fulfilment? That comes from something deeper, something I am now setting out to find.
