There is nothing more important to me than being happy in life. That’s why Brian and I chose to be homeless, to move across the country with only a tent and our dogs, in search of the life we wanted. I will take risks to be happy. I know that money, security, and safety is important, but at the end of my life, whether it’s a year from now or fifty years from now, I don’t want my last thought to be, “I wish I’d…” I know it won’t be, “I’m glad at least I had some money.”
When confronted with choices that risk happiness, I will go against the easy option if it means trading being true to myself and the life I expect to lead. That isn’t to say you should just abandon anything that doesn’t bring you immediate happiness. It’s about recognizing when you’re accepting less than you desire or deserve in life, not in a moment.
Sometimes life is hard and sometimes you have to make difficult choices. One of the scariest things I’ve done for happiness is drive away from our cabin in Connecticut, with no home or place to go, but it led to some of my happiest memories and a life that I’ve enjoyed more than I would have had we stayed and settled.
Once again we’ve been confronted with a ongoing situation that is not resulting in happiness, no matter how much we try to work with it. Once again we have to make some difficult choices. We have goats now, so being homeless would be more difficult, though not impossible. We have a lot of stuff as well, so moving across the country would take more money, time, and help, but it wouldn’t be impossible.
What is impossible is living with the dread of every next day, the next meeting, the next choice someone else makes that directs life away from the goal. We are the people driving our lives, and when someone else tries to veer that life in another direction, no one else can steer it back to the road we want to be on except us. We are taking back the wheel, and it doesn’t look like we’ll be staying anywhere near this exit.
I’ve enjoyed my time in Montana. It’s beautiful. Maybe we’ll stay in the western portion, maybe we’ll go to Wyoming, maybe Maine.
In the end, this chapter is closing, and I’m excited to see what the next one holds.
P.S. If you’re ever in Connecticut, outside Southbury, there is a portion of Jeremy Swamp Road that proves sometimes the difficult path can be the most fun.
by Feist and Ben Gibbard