How to give up a good life in pursuit of a meaningful one
Hello, world! I’m writing this for anyone who is seeking something that excites yet scares you. Something that forces change when change feels daunting. Likewise, I’m sending these words into the void because the act alone is therapeutic, aligning with the little voice that lights my life path.
So, cheers! A toast to listening to that little voice and setting the stage for future good-life-giver-uppers.
Dreamy, Damn Fine, Good Life
What is a good life? I suppose, it’s one that feels worth living. A good life contains the full range of human emotions, yet leans on the side of joy over anguish. By this definition, I had a good life. A damn fine, good life. Before I uprooted it all to fly across the world and build a new one in the land of smiles, I had a dreamy, damn fine, good life.
My story is not one of “I escaped a corporate career, breaking free from the machine to pursue true happiness.” Rather, I relished in the complex simplicity of my pre-Thailand existence. With the mountains of East Tennessee as my playground, I flourished, living the most dreamy, damn fine, good life a girl could imagine.
What did it encompass? Among many things, professional autonomy, boundless love, and room for growth. My passion for creativity and problem solving amplified while working in marketing strategy, client relations, creative executions, and business development. Blissfully, I partnered with local nonprofits that aligned with missions which I helped create. I photographed skilled craftsmen as they hand-sculpted dream homes, while exploring the mountain peaks and valleys that shaped me. I stepped up to the plate when my dad became ill, shouldering more responsibility than I anticipated yet not more than I could handle.
These triumphs and tribulations opened many doors. Upon walking through them, I transformed into a deeply integrated member of my local community: an ambassador, board director and Toastmaster. My mind was always stimulated, which, in turn, sparked joy in my ADHD soul. Despite all of these labors of love paired with gratitude for the place that I was in, there was something deep within me whispering, “there must be more.”
Little, Guiding Voice
This voice was not new, not in the slightest. It has always been there, a driving force behind my dedication to the medical field years before. Likewise, this same voice whispered, “you do not have to be a doctor to change the world.” When everything in me felt distant and decayed, it served as a beacon of light, warming me up to the possibility of a path forward while torching the way.
Yes, this voice is a dear companion, guiding me to the things that I love: gardening, ceramics, photography, yoga, foraging, reading, water sports, cooking, poetry, dancing, trail running, connection, and play. The list goes on and on. Each whisper plants a new seed, sparks a new idea, and inspires action. Each action comes with a lesson worth learning, such as, the satisfaction of watering something fragile, harvesting it with respect for the surrounding ecosystem, and brewing it into a nourishing, experimental stew.
This voice leads me to break rules and follow directions, balancing the advice of others with my own internal wisdom. This whisper guides me to spend endless hours pressing ferns into clay pendants simply for the sake of creation. It leads me deep into the forest, shimmying with the leaves, gliding through a maze of river rocks, foraging a stunning array of polypore mushrooms, and buying books with torn corners that smell of crackling embers and fresh berry pie. For years, I have listened to this voice.
Although, when the world closed its doors in 2020 and the fragility of life became evident, the voice took a sterner tone. Its message grew louder and crisper, shaking me to my core. The little, guiding voice forced me to recenter and shift my focus back to the goal that saved my life many years before: “See the world and positivity impact the lives of others.”
Why Thailand?
Thailand hooked my soul through an old National Geographic magazine. The article portrayed a bustling, northern city with floating lanterns and Buddhist temples; the writer described a culture steeped in vibrancy, kindness and tradition. I fell in love with this country long before stepping foot on Thai soil.
I also researched, tirelessly, deciding that Thailand was a logistically smart choice for a girl looking to make a difference while remaining self-sufficient. It turns out that the land of smiles is a mecca for solo, first-time travelers. Teaching English was the most direct route to gain a visa and accomplish my whispered goals.
It is one thing to be fascinated with a place; it is an entirely different thing to drop all that you know and move there. The endless paperwork and language barriers did not deter me. Rather, it was something else muffling my little voice’s pleas to go. The main thing standing in my way of boarding a plane to Thailand was the realization that, by leaving, I’m bidding farewell to the dreamy, damn fine, good life that I have always known.
Opportunity Costs
Fascination beats fear? As the little voice urged me to visit a world far removed from my own, it became obvious that I only had one path forward. Although, unlike the end goal, the path was anything but clear.
It turns out that living a dreamy, damn fine, good life comes with knots tied so tight, it’s almost comical to loosen. There I was, a spider web of connections and commitments: projects with deadlines, herbs in need of watering, and the love of my life pursuing his dreams in America. How does one sacrifice all of this? For what… A little voice whispering, “there must be more?”
I made this sacrifice by realizing that everything in life is an opportunity cost. When you give up one thing, you, by default, make room for another. Of course, I’m bound to miss fresh mint tea and making love with, arguably, the world’s sexiest human. This is my payment for purchasing stakes in the unknown.
When the fear of change creeps in, I ask myself:
How could I sacrifice the pursuit of a meaningful life for the comfort of a world which I already know? This question is my antidote to self doubt, my rebuttal to fear. As I embarked on the painstaking work of untangling my web of commitments and paving a path forward, I fell back on this question again and again.
When you tune out that little, guiding voice, what do actually you give up? What is the opportunity cost of keeping the status quo? Ultimately, I decided that it was much too steep a cost to pay. Thank goodness for that.
What Did I Gain?
While mourning the loss of my dreamy, damn fine, good life, I reaped the rewards of a life unknown. I gave up homemade apple crisp for mango sticky rice. I traded in trail runs for “footie” with friends turned family, a group of expats teaching English from around the world. Instead of dancing to live music in venue halls, I sway my body to the sound of traditional Lanna instruments at the Culture Street market.
For the first time in my adult life, I chose solitude and gained serenity, walking the spiritual path of self-realization rather than indulging in my usual passionate nature. Instead of conducting market research and leading meetings, I create space for teenagers to express and explore themselves. I foster a sense of self-worth and wonder in others, while redefining what this means for myself.
By leaning into the awkward, fear drenched process of sacrificing a dreamy, damn fine, good life, I am flooded with so much more: fresh perspective and novel experiences that are invaluable to my soul. The most magical part? The journey isn’t over. It never will be. One day soon, I will give up my current, extra dreamy, damn fine, good life for the opportunity of the unknown. So, cheers once more to that little, guiding voice! Oh, & old National Geographic magazines. <3