Summary

The author has come to terms with the realization that their lifelong dream of becoming a digital nomad is incompatible with their neurodivergent needs as a person with Autism and ADHD.

Abstract

The author reflects on their long-standing aspiration to lead a life of travel as a digital nomad, a dream that has been challenged by the realities of living with Autism and ADHD. After years of dreaming and a brief stint living in their car, they have recognized that the stress and unpredictability of constant travel are antithetical to their need for routine, quiet, and a stable environment. The author shares personal experiences, such as a solo trip to Chicago, to illustrate the overwhelming anxiety and discomfort they felt in situations that would typically excite a traveler. With a newfound understanding of their neurodivergence, the author is learning to embrace and find peace in the quiet life they have built, focusing on creating content and writing as a career that allows them to thrive in their controlled, predictable home environment.

Opinions

The author believes that the romanticized idea of a digital nomad lifestyle is not compatible with their neurological needs, leading to dysregulation and misery rather than fulfillment.
They express that the stress and anxiety associated with travel significantly outweigh the excitement and novelty that their ADHD might initially crave.
The author has accepted that their autism necessitates a stable and predictable living situation, which is in stark contrast to the transient nature of a nomadic lifestyle.
They acknowledge the importance of unmasking and understanding their neurodivergent identity, which has been crucial in accepting their limitations and strengths.
The author values the quiet, controlled environment of their current living situation, considering it a sanctuary that supports their well-being and productivity.
They have shifted their aspirations towards building a fulfilling life within their comfort zone, aiming for financial stability and personal happiness through writing and content creation.

Finding Peace With My Life as It Is

I’ve spent my whole life dreaming about what could be rather than loving what is.

**Photo by Author. Taken on my trip to Chicago in October 2017.**

Ever since I was young, I dreamed about what I wanted my life to look like in the future. While the specific dreams evolved and changed over time, a life of travel was a common theme. For more than 5 years, I have dreamed about life as a digital nomad in some form or another.

Covid certainly put a damper on that. Not only am I at risk for a severe outcome from an acute COVID-19 infection, but I’m also well aware of the risks posed by Long Covid. I already struggle to support myself, and my external support system is quite thin. Becoming disabled by Long Covid could be a fate worse than (or even resulting in) death for me.

So then I thought about becoming a masked traveler. Wearing a respirator doesn’t eliminate the risk of COVID-19, but it could lessen the risk enough for me to be comfortable doing some traveling.

Recently, however, I realized that Covid isn’t the only thing stopping me from a life on the road.

Discovering I’m AuDHD

I always had a sense that I was “different,” but it took decades for me to properly figure out why. I even created a social media platform Awkward Anxious Jennifer several years before learning what it is that makes me so awkward and anxious.

A little over two years ago, I finally learned what makes my brain so different from that of “normal” people: I’m autistic and have ADHD (inattentive type). While exact figures are hard to come by, a significant percentage of autistic people are also ADHD and a significant percentage of people who have ADHD are also autistic, so I’m hardly unique in the fact that I am AuDHD.

What does that have to do with my dreams of a life on the road?

Many (if not most) late-diagnosed autistics will tell you that it takes a very long time to accept, internalize, adapt, and adjust to this new understanding of how our brain works. And while I had subconsciously started unmasking even before my diagnosis, it has taken until now for me to fully accept what it means to be AuDHD.

I would be so dysregulated from the stress and anxiety of constant travel that I would be miserable.

When I look back at my previous experiences with traveling, I have all the evidence I need that life as a digital nomad would be a living hell for me rather than the rewarding dream I’ve built up in my head for all these years.

**Photo by Author. The first stage of the panels I made was to create privacy while I was living in my car.**

That Time I Lived in My Car for 6 Weeks

You see, I already attempted life as a digital nomad 4 years ago, and I mostly hated it. I told myself at the time that it was THE WAY I was living as a digital nomad that was too stressful for me to handle, but now that I understand my brain better in the light of being AuDHD, I can recognize that time for what it truly was: a dysregulating nightmare.

At the time, I told myself the reason I signed a lease on an apartment was because I had to spend too much time working to be able to enjoy traveling, and that finding safe places to park and sleep overnight was too stressful to continue.

And those were problematic, sure.

But the truth of the matter is that as much as the ADHD side of my brain craves the novelty of new experiences and wants to push me toward a life on the road, the autistic side of my brain NEEDS the stability of a routine. Of a space, I can call my own. Of QUIET. Of predictability.

Realistically, travel has always been overwhelming for me. As much as my ADHD brain enjoyed it, my autism was always secretly screaming at me the whole time.

**Photo by Author. Sitting in the Millennium Wheel in Chicago and struggling to smile because I was crammed next to strangers.**

My Solo Trip to Chicago

I lived in central Illinois for a few years before deciding to live in my car to escape “real winter” and pursue life as a digital nomad. Once, while I lived there, I planned a 4-night solo trip to Chicago (with a hotel in the suburbs because it was cheaper).

What do I remember from that trip, 6+ years later?

Getting off at the wrong stop when I took the train to the city, then struggled to follow Google Maps to the architectural boat tour I had booked. SO MUCH ANXIETY trying to get to the boat tour on time. I made it and enjoyed the tour, but that stress clung to me for the rest of the day.
Stressing out about where and when I would be able to use a restroom throughout the day. If I needed to pee between meals, I would have to buy a drink somewhere to purchase permission to use the bathroom.
Becoming extremely uncomfortable when it started to get dark and headed back to my hotel earlier than I had planned because my anxiety was acting up.
Taking a taxi for the first time in my life and was anxious the entire trip about how to pay and whether the driver would take me where I needed to go without taking a roundabout route and charging me more.

The pictures I took are the primary reminders of what I did and the places I visited during that trip. I remember very little of what I did apart from the memories that are tinged with anxiety, fear, and stress.

**Photo by Author. Finally happy and confident — at home.**

Reconciling Dreams, Fears, and Reality

Is there a reality in which I could find a way to travel without being consumed by anxiety?

Maybe, but probably not.

The more I learn about autism, ADHD, and how my brain works, the more I recognize that I have always been overwhelmed by crowds of people. The sound of screaming children is so overwhelming that it makes me have violent thoughts. The stress of the unknown grinds me down significantly more than the dopamine hit I get from the thrill of having new experiences.

It’s time for me to accept that my long-held dream of becoming a world traveler would make me miserable. And that there is no shame in being happy with the quiet life I have built for myself.

I’ve built up my writing career to the point where I can afford a nice apartment for myself and my dog with a small yard and a view of a pond that is frequently visited by herons, ducks, and other wildlife. For the most part, all my neighbors are very quiet, and home is my safe space, where everything can be exactly as I want it.

What is my new dream now that I’ve come to accept that my old dream of travel would make me unhappy? That vision is still a bit foggy, but I think it involves continuing to make my home my safe space and happily living alone with my dog, Jules.

At some point in the future, I would like to earn money writing or creating content for myself rather than clients. And someday, it would be nice to be a bit more financially stable and not to constantly live paycheck to paycheck.

But for now, I’m happy with how my life is going, and it’s time I learn to embrace the happiness I have now rather than constantly chase some vision of future happiness that might be worse than my current reality.