And so it begins...

It was the first Monday morning in May. Five am to be more specific. My heart started to race becuase I knew today was the day I had been not so diligently planning for. I was quitting my life. Not suicide, I'm too much of a chicken shit to do something like that.  No I'm talking about leaving everything I knew behind for life on the road to become a Nomad. A Vagabond. A Boondocker. A Rubber-tramp.

And I told no one about it because deep down, I'm a sentimental bastard and I'd look for any excuse to stay. Even my girlfriend who I'd been living with for four and a half years didn't know. She was busy going about her morning routine not knowing a thing. I acted as if it was just another typical Monday. I went through the normal morning ritual that we had carved out for ourselves. A routine that had grown tiresome. Predictible. The only thing that would change was what I wore that day and what time I got up.

You would think such a big life changing event would have been sparked by a fight or something drastic but sadly nothing like that took place. There was no trigger. No big event that made me want to leave that morning. The truth is, I'd been thinking about it for quite some time. Almost 8 years to be exact. But time after time I'd come back to the reality that others had laid out for me. They'd say things like "Oh maybe this job will be better" or "Think of it this way, once you pass the 90 probation, you get benefits and then you can coast." Coasting for benefits? Sounds exhilarating. Thanks but no thanks.

The truth is, I didn't want benefits or a better job. I wanted to do my own thing. Be my own boss. Call my own shots. Gamble and let the chips fall where they may. It was my life after all. So I made a choice that morning, to do my own thing without the restrictions or limitations that I have lived by.

Although I was absolutely terrified about leaving, deep down in my gut and in my heart, I knew it was the right thing to do. This nonsense had gone on long enough and I was tired of it. As I raced around the house like a chicken with my head cut off gathering everything I thought I would need to keep me self sufficient for at least a month, my mind started to wander.  I started to second guess everything. The inner dialogue is a son of a bitch...

"Is it really that bad?
You're being overly dramatic.
Stop and think this through.
Is it so hard for you to conform?
You can learn to accept things.
Who knows, maybe you'll settle into something and find happiness; or at least be mildly content...."

And for a moment, the voice worked.

I stopped dead in my tracks as if I'd hit some invisible pane of glass. If the flies on the wall could talk they would say I looked like a mime going through the glass routine. It's amusing for about 4 seconds and then it gets old really damn fast.

And then it donned on me that it was 19 days away from my 46th birthday. I've travelled to 2 places; with the exception of weekend road trips and a rugby tournament in Winnipeg, (1300km east in a van with 13 men and women) I haven't done anything and haven't been anywhere. I've always wanted to see my own country first before I do or go anywhere else. Thre was no other way to do that without quitting the life I knew and adopting a new one. So I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down and continued to pack.

My mind was made up. I'm gettin' outta Dodge...for good.

I packed clothes, camping gear, cooking equipment, lots of dry goods, canned food, toiletries, blankets, pillow, art supplies, my tablet, phone, 2 types of coolers, a water container, a compact safe, all of my personal documents/pictures etc and a whole lot of guts. It all fit somewhat snuggly into my little green 1995 4 door Saturn. It was probably way too much to take but I was only concerned with getting everything that I deemed necessary.

As I drove away and the garage door closed behind me, I realized how much stuff I had left behind. The papers, the trinkets, the gadgets, the movies and books and things I swore I'd go through but never got around to. Hell, some of that stuff hasn't been opened or looked at for years. Was I going to miss it? Probably not. It's just stuff. You can't take it with you when you die so why and I lug it all over the place with me now? It simply didn't make sense.

With $400 cash in my pocket and a car packed with the bare minimums and a handful of momentos, I headed west.

My new life was out there somewhere. 

And I was going to spend the rest of my life creating it.