Ooooof. Yeah. Tackling the big question here. This is one of those Thoughts that could go on forever, that I’ll probably always be tweaking, and always searching for more answers. But here’s where I am right now with it.

“Are you going alone?”
“Why are you going there?”
“You aren’t working right now?”
“You’re literally living out of your car.”
“Are you carrying a gun? Or pepper spray? Is it handy?”
“Who hurt you?”
“Are you like trying to find yourself? Is this your Eat, Pray, Love moment?”
“Do you feel like you just need to make yourself suffer right now?”
“You know I’m praying for you, right?”
“Your folks aren’t worried sick about you? Your father was ok with you doing this?”
“Can I give you some unsolicited advice?”
“But what’s the real reason for doing this trip?”

Here’s a list of questions I’ve been a little baffled by since embarking on my road trip. Some of these questions came from family members, others from friends, others from people I met along the way. Most of these questions came from a place of genuine concern and compassion, but they irritated me. Mostly because they were hard questions to answer.

A lot of times I just wanted to respond back with my own set of fiery questions. But weren’t you once young with the need to find your own place? The open road, the wide seas calling your name? Feeling the answers to your destiny on the horizon? Seeing if your “place” exists? Are the handcuffs of home feeling a bit too restraining? Maybe you’ve never been this free and privileged. I am in my mid-twenties getting to travel across the country in a badass truck. Will I ever have this courage, willpower, stamina, freedom, selfishness again in my life? Who hurt you in a way that convinced you that you want to work a 9-5 and hoard money and live for vacation and not dream about a different way of doing life? What if I simply enjoy traveling, being nomadic, being a tourist?

However, I usually respond with an assortment of the following snippets: I’ve never been to the East Coast or the South, so this is my first time getting to explore new parts of the country! I’m seeing what else is out there besides Colorado. I’m doing some soul-searching in hopes that my experiences on the road might help guide my career path.

I’m not sure why I feel the need to justify my decisions or why people seem unsatisfied with my answers, which do vary. Maybe it’s because I have my own exhausting list of questions. What the hell am I doing? Where the hell am I? Could I have explored that stop more meaningfully? Why don’t I stay a few extra days? Is it depressing that I’m by myself? Why am I homesick when I was so excited to leave home? Why didn’t I stop there for lunch? Holy shit, that’s how much I have left in my bank account? Why am I so restless? Why haven’t I figured the big questions out about my future? Why is this how I’m choosing to spend my time? Am I really still in the northeast? Where do I want to be after this trip? Why am I lonely when I’m not staying with people but overwhelmed when I’m not camping by myself? Why am I equally restless and exhausted? Why am I struggling on this trip when I am so free and entitled?

As these questions swirl, various responses race to validate my actions and doubts:

• I could bail, but I want to finish this trip. I want to have the knowledge and wisdom of sacred fairy river spots and nice houses and warm meals and secret beaches and wizard trees in my back pocket, so I can access these faraway lands at any point throughout my life.

• I want to keep moving because I don’t want to be on the road forever, hell I don’t know if I’ll want another road trip after this.

• I am accepting the difficult aspects of the road trip because there are going to be difficult aspects no matter what path I choose.

• I get that my destiny isn’t waiting for me around the next bend. I am my destiny. I am living my destiny. I am not finding myself, I am myself. I’m willing to discover what’s beyond my current knowledge and comfort levels and see what type of fulfillment exists there.

• Nothing is permanent. I can spend a winter in Brasil and a year in Maine and a summer in Wisconsin and a winter in the Mad River Valley and trips to cities and recreational areas across the country. That is me doing, being, living, not planning or figuring out my career or creating my destiny.

• The nomadic, transient lifestyle is always stimulating. It makes me a minimalist. It helps me stay flexible. I love observing new cultures and interactions. I love trying new foods, experiencing new biomes, being a tourist, connecting with different lifestyles. I get to learn and watch and participate if I want. I love how the dynamics of this journey transform who I am.

• I want to fall in love every day. I’ve gotten to connect and re-connect with so many incredible souls, provide a little flicker in their routine.

• I want to test my limits. How untethered can I become? Can I accept that it’s ok to enjoy not being rooted?

Out of this jumble, explore, grow, and connect have become the top three words to explain what I’m doing. And although people’s compassion is led by their initial doubts, I leave every interaction with some of the following statements from people:

“I bet you’ve met so many amazing people.”
“Do you know you’re living my literal dream?”
“Wow, I would never have the courage to do something like that. Do you know how brave you are?”
“Your trip is so magical. Why did I doubt it?”
“Even when you’re down, you’re up.”
“This is one hell of an adventure you’ve created.”
“Do you have an instagram or a blog? How about a YouTube channel? I’d love to follow it.”
“Please post more updates. I am living vicariously through you.”
“Your truck is badass! You’re really out here doing it!”
“Thank you for coming to visit. You have magical energy.”

How lucky am I to answer such irritating questions and have my mind run over the same self-doubting thoughts?

Keep an eye out for the next road trip-related Thought, as it will likely focus on my learnings and takeaways from this experience.