What an incredibly ridiculous thing to hear coming from me of all people!
What in the blasphemy?!
Oya cam dan, calm downnnnnn!
It’s a realization I started to see more clearly over the last few months, particularly as I’ve been forced to stay still.

Maybe I’ll reference this every single time for the next five years. Maybe not five years, but certainly the next few weeks, because I just bought a house.

I’m incredibly proud of this house. I’m humbled by what it represents and everything it took to get here. But one of the interesting things about buying a home is that, during the process of waiting to close, there are typically expectations from your lender and the people you’re buying from that you remain local as much as possible. No random or drastic purchases. No unnecessary financial changes. Just… stay put.

So for more than three months, I stayed my behind at home.

I didn’t travel anywhere. I didn’t book any flights.

Matter of fact, the last trip I took was almost last-minute. It cost me more money than I would have liked and ate into my travel budget for the year, especially after I had promised myself I would plan trips well in advance to avoid spending unnecessarily.

But here’s the thing: that trip did exactly what I needed it to do.

I enjoyed my time away. I relaxed. I disconnected from everything.

And then, this morning, I found myself driving to the gym and feeling absolutely no sense of happiness.

Maybe it was just the two-to-three-minute stretch of driving before 8 a.m. that makes you question the entire world. But even with everything I have to be grateful for—my health, my coverage, my sanity, my family, my home, and God’s grace—I just felt… nothing.

And that nothingness felt much closer to sadness than emptiness.

My first thought was, “Ah. I need to travel.”

And then, almost immediately, I stopped myself.

Because what is that actually going to do?

Sure, I’ll feel better temporarily. I’ll book a flight, get excited about the destination, wear some great outfits, eat incredible food, see something beautiful, and probably feel like myself again.

For a couple of weeks.

Until the flight home.

And then I’ll still be sitting with the same unresolved issues. The same things that need attention. The same conversations I haven’t had. The same realities I’ve been trying to outrun.

Traveling won’t fix those things.

The Work Is at Home

I’ve spent the last few years running toward the next destination.

And I don’t say that as someone who doesn’t genuinely love travel. There is almost nothing more beautiful to my soul than standing on a balcony overlooking a new city, sitting on a beach, or taking in an incredible view and being reminded of how good God is.

I’ve raced toward 40 countries because there is still so much of the world I want to see.

But sometimes, being away from home is what makes you realize how much work needs to happen at home.

Not necessarily in the physical house, but in the foundation of the life where your feet are actually planted.

I remember being in my last relationship and arguing with my partner about how much happier we seemed whenever we traveled together.

And maybe we were.

There’s something about checking into a beautiful hotel, an all-inclusive resort, or a nice Airbnb. Having outfits planned for the day. Going to dinner. Exploring somewhere new. Everything feels intentional.

But what happens when you realize you forgot to be intentional at home?

When you stopped planning dates.

When quality time became whatever was left over after work, errands, and everything else.

When the late-night conversations that could have strengthened your bond kept getting postponed.

The truth is, it’s much easier for me to think, pause, meditate, and connect with God when I’m away from home.

But why?

Why is it so difficult to do those same things when I’m sitting in my living room?

Because the noise becomes too much.

We allow so many influences into our lives that we become overstimulated to the point where we’re unable to appreciate the very place we’re standing.

My Escape Was Disguised as a Passion

The last two, maybe three years, I’ve been running away from a lot.

But what makes me happy today is realizing that I’ve also done a lot of the difficult work. The conversations. The uncomfortable decisions. The delays. The pushback. The moments where I’ve had to sit with consequences instead of immediately trying to escape them.

And somewhere along the way, I realized something:

I’ve always loved traveling.

But sometimes, it was also an escape from reality.

And I think that’s an important distinction.

Because even if I become the biggest travel blogger in the world—which, by the way, I do intend to start taking much more seriously this year—I still want to remember that home is where the work happens.

I know I’ve been saying that for a while.

But I truly mean it this time.

Even if I become the most prominent travel influencer you come across, I want the reality of my everyday life to be truer to who I am than the version of me you see on vacation.

Because it is incredibly easy to get lost in the planning.

The next trip.

The next hotel.

The perfect flight.

The right outfits.

For the ladies reading this, I know packing can be stressful. But personally, I’ve got traveling down to a science.

I have a toiletry bag for short trips.

A toiletry bag for long trips.

A pre-packed bag that works for either.

And by the grace of God, I have a passport that gets me into a decent number of countries without much trouble. Sometimes it’s just a quick Google search to figure out whether I need a visa.

There is something so compelling about being away.

And that’s where the challenge lies.

Because sometimes, traveling is a metaphor.

It’s procrastination.

It’s avoidance.

It’s kicking the can down the road and convincing yourself that the next destination will somehow solve what you’re unwilling to confront where you are.

Learning to Love Where You Are

I’ve met people who genuinely enjoy their evenings at home.

With their partners.

Their friends.

Their families.

They go to local restaurants. They take evening walks. They sit quietly in the homes they’ve built.

And I used to wonder how people could be so content with what seemed like such an ordinary life.

I used to question how people ended up in happy relationships, gained weight, got comfortable, and stopped chasing the next thing.

But honestly?

When you’re happy and grateful to simply exist in the orbit of the people and things you’ve built, you don’t always feel the need to go somewhere else.

Now, don’t get me wrong.

I am incredibly grateful to be saddled with the tremendous burden of wanting to see the world.

And I will see the world.

We’re hopefully on our way to 45 countries before the end of this year. I still need to figure out how I’m going to make all of that work.

And if you see me in a country near you, please say hello.

Maybe we’ll even hit 50 before the end of next year.

But that’s not the point.

The point is that a random Monday, sitting in my home, looking at my computer and preparing to share this blog post with you, is where I want joy to reign.

Not just when I’m in 7A on a British Airways flight to somewhere new.

Not just when I’m checking into a hotel.

Not just when I’m standing in front of a beautiful landscape.

But here.

In my home.

In my ordinary days.

In the parts of life that don’t make it onto Instagram.

What Is Traveling for You?

And I’m not saying there is no joy in my heart right now.

There is.

But I want you to think about what “traveling” represents for you.

For some people, it’s the weekend.

You can’t wait for Friday because you need to be outside, at a boozy brunch or on your phone at the club, with someone else running away from the person you cannot stop thinking about, anywhere but where you currently are.

For others, it’s constantly being busy.

Church activities. Helping people. Starting another project. Taking on another responsibility.

Not because those things are inherently bad, but because sitting still with the reality of who you are and what you’re going through feels too uncomfortable.

So traveling won’t fix you.

It will open your eyes to the incredible beauty of the world. Absolutely.

But until you can see that same beauty in the reflection of sunlight through your window, in a dimly lit room at home, or even when you wake up at 3 a.m. and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the way to the bathroom, you’ll keep chasing the next high.

The next flight.

The next relationship.

The next achievement.

The next distraction.

Until eventually, you find your route back home.

So take this as your confirmation code.

You’ve been cleared to board this next phase of your life.

A phase where you somehow stay grounded but lifted at the same time.

Where you look up and appreciate how high you can go, while still paying attention to the foundation beneath your feet.

There is no need to squeeze yourself into the middle seat of life, constantly trying not to inconvenience anyone.

Let yourself take up space.

Chase the kind of high where, when you turn left or right and look out your window every morning, you feel the same gratitude, awe, and peace that you feel when you’re flying toward your next destination.

A Little More Vulnerability Than I Planned

I know this is coming to you on a Monday and not Wednesday, but there has been a lot going on in my heart lately. It has been an especially hard couple of weeks. Months really.

Hi,
I stumbled upon your blog and I’m genuinely glad I did. I would’ve left this as a comment, but it got a little too long, and I didn’t want to shrink it down just to fit the comment box. 

I think it’s amazing that you’ve been doing this for so many years, continuing to return to the blog, think, reflect, and put your thoughts into words. I started reading with your posts from 2021, and I haven’t made it through everything yet, but even from what I’ve read, I can appreciate the body of work you’ve built over time.

What I enjoy most is that you don’t just write about things; you sit with them. Your stories, experiences, and musings have made me look at certain things from a slightly different angle, and I’ve picked up little ideas I can apply to my own life. To me, that’s one of the most meaningful things writing can do.

I also appreciate the honesty in your writing. There’s a quiet strength in being willing to share not only the good moments, but also the difficult things, uncertainties, disappointments, and thoughts you’re still trying to make sense of. That honesty is part of what makes the writing feel real.

Seeing posts going back to 2013 also reminded me of something in my own life. I’ve been thinking about “my one thing,” which I abandoned for a while because life got busy. Your archive reminded me that perhaps I don’t have to wait until everything is perfect to return to it. Sometimes, I just have to keep doing the thing that matters to me.

I know you’ve probably been told before that you’re a good writer, but I wanted to appreciate more than that. I appreciate the thought behind your writing, the honesty, and the years of showing up to do the work.

I’m glad I stumbled across your blog, and I’ll be making my way through more of the archive.

I received the message above today from someone who has been reading this blog. It brought tears to my eyes because, honestly, I’ve been struggling with a lot. Omo I have cried a lot these last few years o.

I don’t necessarily want to talk about all of it right now.

I’ve mostly been trying to talk to God and my family because sometimes I feel like nobody really gets it. And the truth is, not everybody can help. Not everybody will understand. I am carrying the weight of ambition, sadness, regret, pain, longing and so much more while waiting for a sign or a chance.

But this community has always been a space where we’ve shared truth, love, and honesty.

And I hope that those of you who have followed me through all of this—through the flaws, the evolution, the successes, and the difficult seasons—feel proud of me.

Not because I live for anyone else’s approval.

I live for myself and for God.

But I hope you feel a sense of pride watching me continue to grow.

The last few years have been hard.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Financially.

And God has seen me through so much of it.

But if I’m being honest, this season has sometimes felt more difficult than anything I’ve experienced before.

Maybe because I’m doing more of it on my own.

Maybe because I’m tired of feeling like every day without the things I want, or the things that fill me up, is somehow another day I’m missing out on the rest of my life.

There is so much happening that I want to thank God for.

And yet, I still find myself asking for more.

Not necessarily more things.

More peace.

More clarity.

More restoration.

More alignment.

The Long Layover

A lot of my life feels like sitting in an airport during a long layover.

You know the destination will eventually be beautiful.

You’re optimistic about where you’re going.

But the waiting is uncomfortable.

Maybe you missed a connection.

Maybe there was an unexpected delay.

Maybe the route changed completely.

And you’re still sitting there, wondering how much longer you have to wait before life finally begins to feel like the thing you prayed for.

That’s how life feels for me sometimes.

I’m carrying the burden of being a firstborn.

I’m carrying the responsibility of praying and holding space for my friends and family.

There’s so much happening.

My health is top of mind.

My parents are aging. I’m actually thinking of intimacy, marriage, building a family more clearly.

I’m grateful for this new home and this new phase of life, but I’m also thinking more deeply about what settling down actually looks like.

What does that map look like?

What does it feel like?

I don’t have all the answers.

Not even close.

But in this exact moment, I know that even in my pain, my chaos, and my difficulty, there is still a calling on my life to share, inspire, and create.

So, as one of my favorite voices, Ryan Clark, often says on The Pivot—accept, adjust, and move forward.

That’s what I’m trying to do.

Accept what is.

Adjust where I need to.

And move forward in whatever capacity that means.

I’m patiently and eagerly seeking God’s face for new beginnings, new opportunities, second chances, healing, restoration, blessings, shorter bus routes, easier transitions—whatever the case may be.

And as you’re reading this tonight, tomorrow morning, or whenever you come across these words, I send you my love.

I know many of us are seeking God’s face right now.

And I’ll leave you with something I heard in a sermon today:

God will not explain Himself, but He will reveal Himself.

And I hope that whatever destination you’re headed toward, whatever journey you’re currently navigating, and whatever season you’re traveling through, peace be unto you.

Thank you for holding space.

Thank you for replying.

Thank you for not letting me feel alone, even when I feel the most alone.

Until we talk again,

Stay up.

Feel free to leave me a comment or share your thoughts if you feel led to. Would love to hear from you.