Travelling around Australia in a 22-foot caravan has brought a few aha moments. And when I say a few, I mean a lot! But my biggest one came recently when I decided to write this story about those who "have it all". It's funny how conversations with people create the clarity you need when you search for answers and understanding. I sincerely thank the incredible humans we meet along the way on the road around Oz—you have no idea how much you heal those around you.
My parents were hard workers. They moved across countries with small children, packed up and rebuilt their lives to find promising careers and build a good life. We were never poor; we were a working-class family. I was taught to fight for what you have, to work hard, be successful, have a promising career (something with prospects), own a family home - don't rent, buy a car, have children, and save your money for retirement. These lessons have been instrumental in helping me now be able to work and travel around Australia. For that, I am deeply grateful. But before getting into a caravan, I had achieved all the life missions my family had instilled in me. One day, I realised they had yet to tell me what came next. What happens once you have all those things? Then what?
The selfish problem of having it all, according to the textbook, handed down to me, and the guilt for not appreciating it and being 'happy' kept me silent for a long time. When I did reach out for advice, the words often said: just be happy, just keep going, and it will all work out in the end. Isn't this what you always wanted? So the voice quietens. I told myself to just be happy; it would all work out in the end, and I kept running on the treadmill of life. Now, let me be clear - I was happy but not satisfied. I was doing it all but only partially taking it in and appreciating it. I felt a silent struggle inside, feeling lost, like I wasn't living my life.
Jorge and I have bought and sold many homes! Our family could never keep up with our constant shifts. The houses got bigger and bigger, and eventually, we had the big countryside family home for two adults in the middle of the English countryside - now what? We were not ready for kids, and our careers were great, full, exciting, and busy. But we still didn't feel quite settled. Then, my mum passed away quite quickly and unexpectedly in 2013.
We had just bought the countryside home. She had come to see it once, and we planned many grand celebrations there. This would be the place for Christmas time and holiday joy. My mum celebrated her 70th birthday in style (as only she would!) in February 2013. By August, she finally decided to retire from being a primary school teacher. She was going to start enjoying retirement, she would say. It took a month, a month of her feeling not quite right, going to the doctors, to then finding out she was riddled with cancer. The diagnosis: 3-6 months, maybe a year. I remember the doctor telling us, and my mum's face just shocked - what? She still had so much living to do. After that diagnosis, she lasted a week, and on the 1st of September 2013, she passed in her sleep at 11.55 pm.
Although I find myself saying that my mum never got to enjoy her retirement and sadly never met my daughter in this life, when I sit and think about everything my mum did, I realise she did a few things right. She enjoyed living, loved holidays, buying bright clothes, a good party, and being together with people. She loved a good laugh and always wanted to know the newest artist and what song was 'hot'. She jumped at any chance to dance and was happiest with her coffee in the sun, a good book, and a gin and tonic or a glass of wine when sunset came.
I found photos of her as a young woman while clearing out my mum's home. She was in Italy, and in this particular photo, she is standing next to two beautiful Italian men (go mum!). She was doing what she wanted, travelling, and living according to what felt right. As time passed, she settled, built a home and a family, and worked hard. But as the textbook was handed to me, she too had a textbook, and I believe she must have felt what I had - "had it all, but silently struggling."
Looking at both my parents as they split up and found different lives, I guess they had a second chance. Still requiring stability and a good job, they lived just a little more, doing things slightly differently—stepping out of the textbook every now and then.
My dad and step-mum, now in their 70s, have been travelling in a caravan, escaping the English winters for years. Each time I see the photos they share, as they explore little villages, try the local wine, sit outside the caravan reading, and meet and chat with new people, I see they are so happy during this time, doing life in a way that feels right to them.
As my dad has gotten older, it has become harder for him to caravan around. They were so overjoyed When we told them we had decided to travel. Each time we call, I have to show them our caravan set-up, where we are in the country, describe what we have seen, and share our stories. You can tell they are genuinely happy for us and this adventure. Would we have had the same reaction years ago? On the other side of the scale, Jorge's parents were initially very surprised by our travel news - what about your jobs? What about the house? They are very conservative and have fought for everything they have today, so it is no surprise they had questions. But as they have watched our travels, spoken with us, and shared our experiences, they have softened to our mission; they understand what we are trying to achieve.
For years, I have followed the textbook handed down to me. I worked hard to achieve the goals and dreams wished for me. They never meant any harm in their lessons, but I have realised recently that for them, the reality of what is actually important only came later in life. My mum got to enjoy it, but it ended too soon. Now, my dad is experiencing the harshest reality: that, eventually, our bodies grow tired.
As I sit here writing to you in far north QLD, looking at the mountains, trying to find the answer to it all, I ask myself, what would I want to remember when I am older? What would I want to say to my daughter and grandchildren? What would I want to leave as my legacy of life? I know now that I can choose the textbook if I wish to, but I can also choose a different life. Whoever is around me, as dear friends and family, will understand; they will still be there because they will see my joy. They will hear it when I call to share my stories and reach out for a hug when I see them. Although it might shock them, to begin with, they too will soften and feel true happiness as I live my life. So, suppose I know, ultimately, those around me who are meant to stay in my life forever will still be there. In that case, the only thing left is to ask myself, am I willing to follow my own textbook, write new chapters, and take the lessons from my past but choose my own future? Am I willing?
I am still determining where my journey will go. Seven months in, and still in the late hours, I find myself in the silent battle of the next step and what I should be doing. But each day, I know I am working hard to figure it out, enjoy the music, dance to my drum, drink the cup of life, and do it my way.
If you, like me, can hear Frank Sinatra at the end of my chapter, you are my kind of person. So, I would like to end our story with this: The song "My Way" originated as the French song called "Comme D'Habitude" (translation: "As Usual"), written by the composers Jacques Revaux and Gilles Thibault. They took it to the French pop star Claude Francois, who tweaked it a bit (earning a co-writer credit) and recorded the song in 1967, where it was a hit in parts of Europe. The French version tells the story of a man living out the end of his marriage, love killed by the boredom of everyday life.
So if in 1967, this existence of textbook living without LIVING already existed, and the song brings with it a powerful reminder to live life your own way, with all the ups and downs and choices that come with it, then ask yourself each day: Am I living in my own authenticity with the courage to follow my own way, even if it means facing challenges and criticism - am I willing?
"I think the reward for conformity is that everyone likes you except yourself." - Rita Mae Brown.