I know what you’re thinking, another “digital nomad” story. But no. Well… yes, I am a digital nomad, just not the barefoot-in-Bali kind. I lived out of a suitcase for seven straight years, moving from country to country with no safety net. I’m not a crypto bro or a life coach. I’m an entrepreneur who can’t sit still.
I didn’t just travel, I truly lived in the world. I immersed myself in different cultures, sometimes learned the language, and slowly changed—emotionally and spiritually. From months in southern Turkey to six summers in South Africa and the Greek islands, and time in places like Portugal, Mexico, and Croatia, I learned a few things along the way that I’d like to share with you.
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I think Western society taught us the wrong milestones for success, and the wrong timeline for living our lives
Western society teaches us that success is measured by your career, your assets, and whether you are married with children by a socially acceptable age. It also tells us that by thirty we should already know exactly who we are, what we want, and how our lives are supposed to unfold, and preferably in a safe, sensible, and linear way.
Wrong. So very, very wrong.
Image credits: Tembela Bohle
I don’t care what the old saying claims, life is not short. It’s long. We are living longer than any generation before us, which means we have time. Time to explore who we really are. Time to make mistakes. Time to change direction. Time to try new things. And time to figure it out by sixty, if that’s what it takes. Not by thirty.
Buying a house does not equal success. It usually means a mortgage you can barely afford and a long-term commitment to debt owned by a bank. Having children is not for everyone—and please don’t tell me it automatically makes you happy. Fulfillment comes from inner and spiritual alignment, not from ticking off life’s expected milestones. And travel is not a luxury. It’s a necessity. We were not put on this planet to sit still—we were meant to move, explore, and experience the world.
I learned how to clear the noise, and finally listen to what actually matters
Image credits: Ronak Mokashi
With every country I lived in, something unexpected began to happen. I slowly dropped the weight of material thinking and replaced it with something far more grounding—spiritual awareness. Not religion. Just clarity about what truly matters in life: real community, time in nature, and taking care of your inner world.
It felt like my perception shifted. I became more sensitive to what drains me and what lifts me up—to people, places, experiences, even food. I could feel the difference between what is aligned and what is empty. And once you notice that, it becomes impossible to ignore how much of modern life is designed to keep us distracted, and glued to screens, money, and habits that quietly disconnect us from ourselves. Removing those blocks is where real freedom begins.
I stopped carrying things and started carrying a lighter life
Living out of a suitcase for seven years taught me how little I actually need. When everything you own has to fit into one bag, you become honest with yourself very quickly. It’s just stuff. I stopped spending money on overpriced fashion and status symbols and started spending it on what stays with me, experiences that shape me and memories that don’t expire.
For me, that’s travel. For you, it might be something else. But I can promise you this: things will never give you lasting fulfillment. They offer a quick hit of dopamine and then quietly ask for more of your money, your attention, and your space. Attachment weighs you down. It slows you. It keeps you tied to a life you might not even want anymore.
Image credits: James Owen
What we actually need is simple: food, water, rest, movement, sunlight, and people who truly see us. We don’t need the newest phone to be relevant, and we don’t need the latest trend to move forward in life. The real tragedy isn’t owning less—it’s reaching the end of your life and realizing you never gave yourself permission to live it in your own way.
I finally understood that my anxiety wasn’t caused by too much pressure, but by a life that wasn’t stimulating my mind enough
It took me years of living on the move to notice the pattern. Seven years out of a suitcase rewired the way my mind works—and eventually revealed something I had never considered before: a big part of my anxiety and emotional heaviness wasn’t coming from trauma, failure, or chaos. It was coming from a lack of mental stimulation.
The human mind is built to stay active. It looks for input, novelty, and challenge—constantly. Even in sleep, it keeps creating stories and processing experience. When it isn’t given something real to engage with, it starts searching for problems instead. Sometimes it manufactures them.
Image credits: Josef Panagiotopoulos
Travel became stimulation in its most intense form. I had to learn new systems, adapt to unfamiliar cultures, solve practical problems daily, meet strangers, and communicate across languages. My brain had no space to drift into imaginary threats or endless digital noise. My mind, my heart, and my inner drive were finally being nourished—and that’s when I began to feel aligned again.
For me, boredom wasn’t neutral. The cure was simple: meaningful, positive stimulation.
I learned that the best moments in my life happened when I was far away from a comfort zone
Image credits: Jo Kassis
In most countries, I only had a limited window to stay. Sometimes six months. Sometimes just ninety days. And with that quiet deadline always in the back of my mind, life suddenly moved differently—faster, sharper, and more intentionally. Every place had a clear beginning, a real middle, and an inevitable ending. It felt cinematic, almost dreamlike. Not because it was romantic, but because time mattered.
When you live without urgency, days blur into each other. Comfort flattens the experience of being alive. There are fewer risks, fewer emotional highs and lows, and very little momentum. Pressure changes that. Growth—real growth—only happens when something is at stake.
I once fell in love in thirty days. Not because it was reckless, but because there was no time for performance. No slow games. No emotional buffering. We were honest, present, and brave with each other, because I was leaving, and because the moment demanded it. The pressure stripped away distraction and hesitation. It created something real.
Life doesn’t happen in the middle of comfort. It happens at the edge.
Image credits: Kayahan Uluş
And no, I’m not telling you to become a digital nomad or suddenly book a one-way ticket. I’m reminding you that life is simpler than we make it. Less accumulation. More experience. Less approval. More truth. Stop letting society define your pace and your priorities. Lean into who you actually are, and give that version of you the space, and the courage, to move faster.
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