Looking around our room we’ve been renting, I’m not going to lie: I’ll miss this. The comforts and luxury of a warm bed, shops close by, tech at our fingertips … Oh, the bitter-sweetness of modern living; so deliberate, so habitual!

All my life, I’ve done things in an unconventional manner. I act first and think on my feet. Hardly do I spend time planning. This does not mean I don’t think about it A LOT before I act – well, sometimes it means exactly that.

Then: August 2018, my husband of 23 years told me he is done being married. I suppose I saw it coming really. Our marriage wasn’t terrible by any measure or means – It was just … comfortable. Like that old pair of shoes you know you’ve outworn, but you still wear them because they’re yours, and you love them.

This was the time we mutually decided to move on. And by ‘we’ I mean me. I moved out and after nearly 12 years of not working, the entire job-market and arena was foreign to me.

Nevertheless, I woke up one morning, decided ‘I’m out’ and left within 24 hours of making up my mind. Then, as now, I had no idea where I’ll be going, what I’ll be doing, or how I’ll survive.

But I did.

Learning new skills as a care-worker was fantastic. The work was hard, the hours long and the money … Well, that was very little. Still, I felt free and enabled.

Now: After accepting a 0 hour contract (but with promise of 21 hours a week) with a local residential old-age home, the world started nagging at me. For years, I’ve entertained the idea of just packing up and sodding off. Go where the wind takes me, live where the world dumps me. The longer I stayed in this job, the louder the voices in my head protested. Seeing the elderly in such an environment (good as it was!) really nagged at me. I started thinking about my own old age (I’m 46, it’s not far off!)

When the company made changes to their schedules and regimes, and I found myself without working hours, the stuborn idea pushed forward again. I’m without money – AGAIN. I’m without a home – AGAIN. I’m trapped in a cycle of work to eat and have a home – AGAIN. I hated it.

So, approaching my partner I pitched the idea to him. My options were:
Get another job, or silence those damn voices!

On Sun 26 May 2019, I worked my last scheduled shift. That night, Alex told me “Let’s do it – what do we have to lose?” It took a while for me to let it sink in, and then I got out of bed and sat down by my PC.

In a few days, I’ve connected with the right people to give me advice. I’ve packed up and cleared our bedroom out. I’ve found a destination and I’ve ordered (with my very last dime) all the tools and equipment needed to go wildcamping. I’ve spend HOURS, DAYS, doing research and organizing things and on Thurday, June 6 2019, we’re leaving our home and all the luxuries behind to go and ‘live wild’ in Wales.

More honesty: I do not know how this will end. Maybe we can’t hack it and return back to the working world. Maybe we’ll discover we aren’t equiped or cut out for this. Maybe our relationship won’t stand this test in time.

Whatever happens from here on out, I have but one thing to say about it no matter the outcome:

NO

REGRETS