Kind of Wild is a weekly newsletter on vegan travel and ethical luxury. I am a 40-something published author, podcaster, public speaker, charity PR specialist and writer. I speak four languages and live in Brighton, UK. I’ve been vegan for over a decade. I want to save the world - but I also want to experience it.
I talked about this with my therapist last week (yes, I’m in therapy, and you should be too). Fidgeting nervously in my chair and wondering why on Earth she always is so gorgeously dressed and well-put together while I never fail to come straight from the gym or a run, I laid the truth bare: the older I get, the less I want to calm down and settle down.
I’ve always been exceptionally restless - I have lived in five countries, moved to a different continent on my own at 19, changed careers a handful of times, learned four languages - but so have many people. Most of them happily settle into a calm, comfortable life when they reach my age. But somehow, my inner wild streak is getting even wilder as the number of wrinkles on my face grows. That hunger for experiences, for exploration - it’s like an ever-present background noise in my head, humming somewhere in the distance. Only with every year of my life, the humming gets louder and louder. Closer and closer.
A few weeks ago, I sent out invitations for my 42nd birthday, which is in a month. We’re probably going to go for pizza, and I’ll have a good friend who just opened her own bakery make me a custom vegan cake. A dear friend will come and visit from Sweden. There’ll be laughter. There’ll be sunshine (well, hopefully, this is the UK). There’ll be Prosecco (definitely). It will be a fantastic evening, and I’ll be scrolling through my Instagram story again and again the next day, reliving it all in gratitude. Looking back on it, I’ll smile for days.
So why is there a persistent little voice in my head, going, “but you should be hiking in Nepal or volunteering with elephants in Sri Lanka for your birthday”?
The older I get, the deeper this feeling grows. The yearning for something bigger, something bolder, something different. Experiencing more. Living more. That little voice in my head won’t shut up. The older I get, the louder it screams, because deep inside I know the truth: with every birthday, I’m closer to no longer being able to hike in Nepal or volunteer with elephants in Sri Lanka. I only have a limited time to experience everything I want, which is everything in the world. And it’s killing me. I want to swim in all the waterfalls. Dance on all the dance floors. Hike every mountain. See as many wild animals in their natural habitats as humanly possible. Take silly selfies with all the monuments. Eat all the vegan food there is. I want to do it all, see it all, live it all. Some days, that’s such an exhilarating feeling. Other times, the FOMO brings me close to literal tears - specifically when I see other people travelling. Digital nomads? Oh wow, the envy is REAL.
Look, I know how this sounds. You’d be surprised to learn, after all of this, that I am one of the most grateful people that you’ll ever meet. Every day I think about how thankful I am for the amazing life I’ve been blessed with. Having gratitude for all of the wonderful things I have is so important to me. I have been lucky to end up with a life that I adore with all my heart - but sometimes, having a life you love is kind of a trap. I’m not a digital nomad because I love my job, and it takes me on absolutely crazy adventures. I love the city where I live. I adore the people I’ve surrounded myself with. I feel so at home in my life, like a piece of a puzzle slotted in at exactly the right spot. But that can all coexist with a fizzy, sparkling, burning desire to see what else is out there.
Something has always whispered to me that I am not the only one, and turns out I was right: research shows that adventure travel is booming in women over 40, for example. Another study finds women embracing travel after 45. A dear friend of mine just took a sabbatical, during the year she turned 40. People - and especially women - are finding their inner restlessness and running with it.
I suspect that death has something to do with it. As we get older, we are more often confronted with our own mortality - there are constant reminders that none of us will be here forever. That’s when the fear of regret (the worst fear of all) sets in - quite justifiably, as over 60% of people over 70 regret not having travelled to a specific destination. Karl Pillemer, a gerontologist at Cornell University interviewed 1,500 elderly people on their regrets, and not travelling enough was high on the list. One woman told Pillemer, “if you have a choice between a kitchen remodel and a trip, I’d say take the trip,” and that might be some of the best life advice I’ve ever heard.
Almost daily I think of myself at 85. I ask myself how I want to think back on my life. What do I want to remember? And the answer is overwhelming. I want to remember seeing waterfalls in Iceland with my mum. I want to remember trying windsurfing in Sicily with some of my dearest friends. I want to remember yoga at sunset in Portugal. I want to remember gambling at the casino in Las Vegas on my husband’s birthday. I want to remember my honeymoon on the Amalfi coast. I want to remember playing with rescue dogs on the beach in Croatia. I want to remember snorkelling in Egypt. I want to remember reviewing luxury hotels in Cyprus and sitting front row at Fashion Week in Helsinki. I hope memory will serve me well at that age, because that’s what I’m making all these memories for. I want to feel like I’ve taken the life I’ve been given and really used it. Really, truly lived.
But I also want to remember the many unassuming Tuesday evening walks with my husband on the seafront right here in Brighton that ended in some of the most spectacular sunsets I’d ever laid eyes on. I want to remember having hot chocolate with my friend in the Laines after work on a Thursday and sharing deep heart-to-hearts. And the flight I’ll truly never forget? The one I take twice a year that brings me back to my family in Sweden. That’s something I like to remind myself of when I’m neck-deep in FOMO: that life is happening now, and as long as I’m with the people I love, then the little things really are the big things.
Does that mean I’ll be less restless? Definitely not. But a restless mind and a grateful heart can live side by side. And even if my 85-year-old self will always relish a simple coffee in the sunshine, you can bet she’ll always be up for a hike in Nepal too.
I am having the exact same feeling (writing this from a lovely hostel in Lisbon) and am also turning 42 in two months time. Forever restless for new experiences and connections.