Getting Real with Shadra Bruce
When we first sold our home and nearly everything we owned to travel full-time, I thought I understood what “letting go” meant. I thought it was about things—furniture, clothes, knick-knacks, the dozens of little mementos we collect over a lifetime. But I quickly realized that the hardest part wouldn’t be parting with stuff. It would be learning to let go of certainty.
For most of our lives, we’re taught to build stability. A home. A career. A routine. We make plans, set goals, and measure success by how closely life matches our expectations. And then one day, when the kids are grown and the house is quiet, you realize you’re free in a way you’ve never been before. That kind of freedom can be exhilarating, yes, but also terrifying.
Travel has taught me that life feels lighter when you stop clinging so tightly to how you think it’s supposed to be. Flights get delayed. The Airbnb isn’t exactly what you imagined. The weather doesn’t cooperate. You learn to laugh, to adapt, to see every unexpected turn not as a disaster, but as part of the adventure. And the strange thing is, when you stop resisting, you start to enjoy it. Even the things that initially felt stressful end up being stories you’ll tell for years.
But for all the letting go, there’s also holding on. Holding on to each other as we navigate new places and new versions of ourselves. Holding on to the people who matter most—our kids, our grandkids—even when they live across an ocean. Holding on to the moments that remind us who we are and why we chose this life in the first place.
There are mornings when we wake up in a small flat in a historic town in England, listening to the rain fall softly outside the window. The quiet is different from the busy life we had back home, but it’s not empty. It’s full of intention. Full of possibility. It’s in those moments that I’ve realized letting go isn’t about giving up; it’s about making space for what really matters.
We’ve also learned to let go of judgment—of ourselves and of others. When you travel, you’re constantly navigating new cultures, languages, and situations that are outside your comfort zone. Mistakes happen. Miscommunications happen. And yet, life keeps moving forward, beautifully, even when things aren’t perfect. The lesson is clear: perfection isn’t the goal. Presence is.
Holding on, too, takes effort. It means prioritizing relationships that matter, nurturing bonds even across distance and time zones, and celebrating small joys—the laughter of a grandchild, a quiet dinner with my husband in a new city, the satisfaction of a day spent exploring somewhere entirely unfamiliar. Holding on is about keeping our hearts anchored in what is meaningful, even as everything else shifts.
Travel has reshaped how I see home. Home isn’t a fixed point on a map. It’s the people, experiences, and memories we carry with us. Every place we visit, every city we explore, becomes part of our story. And that story is richer because we dared to let go of what we thought we needed and held on to what we love.
If life feels like it’s shifting beneath your feet, maybe it isn’t falling apart. Maybe it’s just making room for something new. Something freer. Something more connected. Something that teaches you how to let go—and hold on—at the same time.
Because in the end, that’s what this full-time travel adventure has taught me: freedom and connection aren’t opposites. They’re partners. And when you can embrace both, life suddenly feels a lot fuller, a lot brighter, and a lot more alive.
