Today marks a special anniversary for me: It was four years worth of Mondays ago today that I made a life-altering decision. I walked out on my day job to enter the world of private practice and become a nomad.
Six weeks later, I was traversing a still-slick Vail Pass on a heavily overloaded motorcycle, threading the needle between two major snow storms. I remember stopping for gas along I-70, and people looking at me like I was nuts. I was also freezing my butt off.
But it was all worth it. I managed to rapidly build myself a successful, “stereotypical” tax resolution practice, and then just as quickly scaled it down to “boutique” size. While doing that, I’ve literally circled the globe, spent a decent amount of time in 13 foreign countries, met wonderful people, and experienced amazing cultures.
I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything in the world.
I’m a firm believer in living the life that you want to live right now. The whole fantasy of working your tail off for 40 years so that you can retire at 40% of your previous earnings and then going off to travel the world is exactly that: Very few people accomplish it.
Either they don’t have enough money, or they’re in poor health, or they’re simply dead. Yes, that’s right: It’s amazing how many stories are out there of people that wanted to travel the world “when they were able to”, but then kicked the bucket before everything was “perfect” for them to do it.
Not this guy.
Maybe I’m an odd duck. OK, I’m definitely an odd duck. But I’m OK with that. My life has had it’s ups and downs, just like anybody else, but I’ve made the best of it, I think, and it’s worked out well. But the single best decision I’ve ever made was to live life on my own terms, rather than what’s expected of me.
Fortunately, I’m not alone in this. There is an entire world of lifestyle design and location independence enthusiasts out there. The other nomadic types that I have met in my travels, and the “famous” ones I’ve chatted with online, all say that eventually they get burned out on being a nomad.
I’ve always been incredibly conflicted between the nomadic life, and having a home. It drives me nuts at times, because after a few months on the go, I’m ready to settle down. But inevitably, after a few months in one place, I’m itching to go again. My incessant indecision on this matter has been particularly frustrating to my mentor and my family.
Recent relationship events have made me examine this even more closely, which I actually didn’t think was possible. In case you weren’t already aware, I got married a month ago. We were ready to settle down, start a family, start two new brick and mortar businesses — everything that was the antithesis of the life I’ve been leading for the past four years (some analysts would say even longer, in some regards).
I’ll spare you the details, but the fantasy didn’t last long. I had found somebody that met every criteria on my 37-point checklist. What I never considered was that such a person might have itchy feet syndrome, too. We’re both traveling in from out of the area to file our annulment petition in what is legally my home state on Thursday.
Am I done being a nomad?
Alas, the answer is no. I don’t think I ever will be. When I look back on my very early childhood, my nomadic ways make a LOT of sense.
But at the same time, I want the best of both worlds. It’s nice to be in one place for a few weeks or a couple months. It’s nice to sleep in your own bed now and then. It’s nice to have a sense of community somewhere — to belong to something. Being a solo permanent …