When I was working in sales management, I would receive hundreds of emails a week and was on the phone for 4-8 hours a day. When I wasn’t on the phone, I was in meetings or talking to someone. It was both invigorating and exhausting.
I needed the weekends to unwind. I’d workout, take long walks with the dogs and read. If the weather was nice, I’d sit silently in our backyard while my wife gardened. I’d breathe. I’d watch the birds. I’d pet our dogs and cats as they lounged in the sun.
I would leave my cell phone inside the house and do my best to ignore the insistent compulsion to check emails, listen to voicemails and “knock off” a few responses over the weekend.
Sunday afternoons was when my dread would return. Unread emails were stacking up with problems, actions and requests. My bosses always used weekends to catch up on their to-do’s and would fire off dozens of demands to me via email.
The worst ones were the the requests for a “simple favor” – it was always something that needed to be in their hands first thing Monday morning. I’d have to gather data, analyze it, create a report and summary and get it to them Sunday evening for their review. Then a slew of back and forth emails would ensue.
But, as one boss said, “This is the life we chose.”
I did choose my job in management. Along with the higher pay, responsibility and semi-autonomy, came Sunday night rush projects, end of quarter all nighters, periodic travel and constant demands for my time.
After I lost my VP of Sales job and did some consulting, I found a much better balance. I spent 33% of my time working on my business – writing and promoting my blog, doing back end technical work and seeking customers. I spent 33% of my time working on consulting projects. I spent the remaining 33% of my time enjoying the day with my wife.
I made a lot less money, but it was still fantastic. The time spent working with clients kept me engaged in the business world. The time spent working on the business gave me constant learning opportunities doing things I had never done before. The time with my wife was simply wonderful.
After my wife was diagnosed with cancer, everything went to shit. Our lives were consumed with tests, anxiety, medical appointments, scheduling, insurance red tape and procedures. And pain.
Over the next 8 months, I estimate we spent 40 hours a week dealing with doctors, appointments and procedures. All this time, my wife’s condition was worsening. She was wracked with pain that increased every day.
I buckled down. Having nursed my wife through chemo and multiple surgeries before, I knew this was going to suck. I didn’t realize how badly it was going to suck. Nonetheless, I dedicated myself to caring for her. Eventually I realized she was dying. She fought hard to live right until the end. I never wavered in my commitment to be with her through this.
Then she died.
And I had nothing left but a big empty house and a hollow heart.
Three months later, I sold our home, gave away everything and moved into a tiny camper to live on my own in National Forests and BLM Land out West.
I didn’t know what else to do.
I thought I might find peace in extreme solitude. It was me and my dog Snickers. We’d live in the woods and the deserts – only stopping in town to resupply food and water every few weeks.
I had a cell phone, but had only a few people to talk to. That, and limited coverage, provided isolation from everyone except a few friends and my mother.
I didn’t find what I was seeking on the road.
I found loneliness. I found failure. I found exhaustion. I found frustration.
Ironically, the best times on the road were when I was with others:
- Sitting by the campfire with my first “camp mates” after driving for across the country and spending 7 days alone
- Talking to the rancher women who camped near me outside of Tombstone. They had 3 horses, a donkey and 5 dogs, including a wolf hybrid.
- Rescuing the couple who had 4 flat tires in a remote campsite in New Mexico.
- Visiting the bustling suburban mall outside of Tucson to get my iPhone fixed and feeling a physical sigh of relief like I was in my element.
- Eating burgers and shooting the breeze on a cold, rainy evening in a neighbor’s huge camper
The greatest lesson I learned from living in solitude on the road was that it wasn’t the right place for me. I belonged in society.
I am now where I belong – firmly grounded in suburban Raleigh, NC.
I’ve found the solitude and peace I thought I craved. I’ve found community. I’ve made a couple of new friends and a few more regular acquaintances.
Today I only receive about 1 phone call a week (other than robo-dialers and scammers). I don’t even turn my ringer on, preferring to call people on my schedule.
The only emails I get are bills, notifications and newsletters.
I went on the road to find peace and solitude and figure out how to live a life without my wife.
I found my answer back in society.