The restlessness didn’t start in an office. It started earlier, while I was still studying. I just didn’t recognize it clearly at the time.
During my degree, I did an internship in Dubai. It was my first longer stay outside Europe. Nothing dramatic happened, but it shifted something quietly. I worked, met people from different countries, and saw how normal it was for them to live far from where they grew up.
Through people I met there, and eventually through a relationship, I found myself traveling to the Philippines.
That trip did more than any class had done before. It showed me in practical terms that life could be structured differently. Different pace, different priorities and it still worked.
When I came back, I didn’t have answers. But the world felt more accessible. Going somewhere no longer felt unreachable. It felt possible.
After finishing my studies, I worked for about half a year, saved money, bought a ticket, and left to backpack.
Those months were simple. Cheap rooms, long bus rides, short-term friendships. Plans rarely extended beyond the next stop. Career questions faded into the background again.
Then COVID hit.
Movement stopped. Borders closed. I returned home earlier than planned.
I went back to office work because it made sense. It was stable and available. The job itself wasn’t terrible. But something felt off.
After a while, my days started blending together. Wake up, commute, sit behind a screen, come home tired, repeat. Weeks passed quickly, but nothing really stood out.
I remember having the quiet thought: Is this it?
I wasn’t miserable. But I felt switched off. Like I was moving through routines without much connection to them. Functional, productive, but not fully present.
What unsettled me most was the idea that this could slowly become permanent. That if I didn’t actively choose something else, this would simply become my life by default.
That thought scared me.
So I left again. Not with a detailed plan, but with the clear sense that staying would slowly turn me into someone I didn’t want to become.
Leaving didn’t answer the big questions. But it gave me movement again. And that was just what I needed.
