Going Away to Return to Myself

Today, while I’m in the middle of a 24-hour water fast, Andre and Ava are at an event. I found myself alone in the house with two whole hours ahead of me.

Three uninterrupted hours.

And yet, I couldn’t relax.

I went from room to room, trying to figure out what “relaxing” even meant anymore. I thought about all the things I could do — read, journal, color mandalas, sit in silence. Nothing felt right.

So I surrendered to house chores.

But this time, I made a small shift. I chose the chores I enjoy. Cooking, for example. I love cooking. I love the grounding feeling of preparing something delicious.

And yet, even cooking has started to feel like something I can only do when I “have time.”

When did I get so busy that something I love feels like a luxury?

When did joy become something I need to schedule?

Those are the kinds of questions that led us to take a year off.

The Beginning of My Wonderlust 

While cooking, I listened to Finding Your Walden by Jen Tota McGivney. One quote stood out to me:

“Going away to return to ourselves.”

It felt like someone had put language into what this sabbatical means to me.

We are four months away from leaving the U.S. for a year abroad. And while this decision may seem recent, I think the seed was planted a long time ago.

When I was 18, I traveled to Cancun with my sister Paula and Valeria. I’ll never forget driving toward Tulum and seeing the vast jungle stretch endlessly before me. Something inside me softened. I felt ease in a way I hadn’t before.

I often say that was the birth of my wanderlust.

But maybe that’s not entirely true.

In high school, I wrote in my Upward Bound yearbook that I wanted to work in International Relations. At 18, I didn’t fully understand what that meant — if I’m honest, I still don’t. But the desire to see the world was already there.

And then my mom reminded me of something else. When I was little, I used to tell her I wanted to own a motor home so I could travel everywhere and never have to stay in just one place.

Maybe I didn’t discover wanderlust at 18.

Maybe I’ve always been this way.

A life in Motion

Fast forward 24 years. I’ve now visited 29 countries. And for the first time, my dream of living abroad is becoming a reality.

In four months, we will leave for Bali, Indonesia.

And it feels right.

The last few years of my life have been full of overwhelm.  Don’t get me wrong, I have experienced so much joy in the middle of the chaos.  But I can’t remember the last time I truly felt peace.

I want to feel peace again.
I want to feel boredom again.
I want to feel spaciousness.

I want my freedom back — not in a dramatic, escape-everything kind of way — but in a quiet, internal way. The kind of freedom that lets you cook without being rushed. Rest without justification. Exist without rushing.

Spending a year in Bali is not about running away.

It’s about going away — so I can return to myself.