Watching the sunset on Mt. Malo Spicje in the Julian Alps, Slovenia is a breathtaking experience. As I sit here, taking in the stunning views and reflecting on my life, I can’t help but feel grateful for the journey that has led me to this moment.
I am an adventure guide for an all-women’s travel company, and I have the incredible opportunity to lead groups of amazing women on hiking, backpacking, surfing, rappelling, snorkeling, and cultural trips all around the world. I have hiked the Inca Trail in Peru, snorkeled in the Caribbean Sea, and watched the sunrise over Petra in Jordan – all while getting paid. When I tell people what I do for work, they usually think I am living the dream.
But as I sit here, in my friend’s apartment between tours, searching for my next house-sitting gig, she looks at me and says, “I don’t know how you sleep at night.” I am about to guide an international tour in Belize for three weeks, but I don’t even know where I am going to live next week.
And that is the nature of this lifestyle. My life is like a roller coaster – long, hard climbs where my stomach churns with anxiety and anticipation, followed by thrilling, heart-racing drops. Meanwhile, other people’s lives tend to be more like a merry-go-round – predictable, steady, or at least smooth enough to enjoy an ice cream cone while they wait for the next rotation.
But I always tell people that I didn’t choose this lifestyle; this lifestyle chose me.
It all started when I saw a flyer in my university’s dining hall: “Intro to Backpacking on the Florida Trail – $65.” I had never been backpacking in my life, but that little flyer filled me with excitement. I signed up alone, and when I saw that the guides on that trip were fellow students – practically glowing with a golden aura as they got paid to enjoy the beautiful outdoors – I knew I was about to step on the roller coaster. I asked them, “How can I get your job?”
And that’s where my ride began – working part-time as an adventure guide at my university while earning my bachelor’s in psychology and communication. I got certified in wilderness medicine, learned how to drive 12-passenger vehicles with 12 sea kayaks attached to the back through Miami traffic, and how to create entirely new backpacking routes on the fly when a section of the trail is closed due to forest fires. At 19, I traveled abroad for the first time, getting paid to guide the Landmannalaugar Trail, a 35-mile trek through Iceland’s backcountry.
But once I graduated, I figured it was time to “grow up.”
And I tried, I really did.
After thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail at 22 for fun – a reward I gave myself after graduating – I enrolled in a master’s program for mental health counseling at Boston College. But when I saw how much I would have to take out in student loans, something inside me screamed, NO! GET US OUT OF HERE!
On Monday, I was enrolled in classes; by Friday, I was packing all of my stuff into my car and driving to rural Pennsylvania for the season, living in a cabin on a lake while teaching elementary students outdoor education. With no cell service in the valley, I spent my evenings building fires, writing, walking around the lake at sunset, and spending real quality time with my co-workers and friends.
I tried again in 2020, getting a job in the behavioral health unit at a children’s hospital in New Orleans. If I had stayed long-term, they would have paid for my education. But after spending hours under fluorescent lights, watching the healthcare system prioritize money over actual care, the screaming in my head continued.
At 25, I grabbed a TV dinner table and a folding chair, sat on Frenchmen Street in downtown New Orleans, and sold my poetry. I also paid my rent by working background and stand-in gigs in New Orleans’ Hollywood film scene unit. That phase of my life was full of art, late nights, and unpredictability.
But roller coasters don’t stay in free fall forever, and eventually, I realized it wasn’t sustainable.
My brother, with his secure finance career, perfect marriage, golden retriever, and five-bedroom home in the suburbs, is the complete opposite
