I’ve been to 55 countries.

I’ve worked from cafés in Vietnam, beaches in Mexico, rooftops in Lisbon, and dusty co-working spaces tucked behind markets in South America.

At 21, I was wandering through Asia, trying to figure out who I was.

A few years later, I was in Europe with a friend, building my first company—ParseHub, a SaaS product we grew to over $1M in annual revenue.

Then came South America. Twice.

Now I’m here again—this time staying put. For four months in Pisac, Peru, I’ve slowed down, rooted, and let life become simple again.

That might not sound like a big deal.

But for someone who’s lived a decade of change, constant movement, and reinvention… it is.

Because here’s the truth:

I spent years chasing freedom.

The version sold to us on Instagram—

The laptop lifestyle, the six-figure independence, the dream of working from anywhere while looking effortless doing it.

But eventually, I realized something most digital nomads don’t say out loud—

You can’t out-travel your inner world.

It Looks Like Freedom, But Feels Like Disconnection

This lifestyle promises happiness and success in one perfect package.

But behind the photos, it’s a different story.

You’re building something you care about.

You’re proud of that.

But you’re also alone.

Your people are spread across continents.

Your days are filled with beautiful views and a quiet ache.

Your identity becomes tied to the lifestyle itself—

And the lifestyle doesn’t leave much room for grief, boredom, or stillness.

When You’re Always Somewhere New, Nothing Feels Familiar

Here’s what I’ve learned after years of remote life:

• Loneliness creeps in. Real support systems are hard to build when you’re always leaving.
• You lose your rhythm. The little rituals—your favorite corner café, your walking path, your community—get replaced with novelty.
• You feel pressure to perform. For your followers. For your parents. For the version of yourself who once believed this would fix everything.
• You work more than ever. Especially if you’re self-employed. Boundaries blur. And the guilt kicks in—whether you’re working too much or not enough.

It’s easy to burn out when you’re constantly on the move.

And part of that is the logistical cost of always changing locations:

• Adjusting to new environments—weather, altitude, culture—can be more draining than you expect.
• Not speaking the language or learning a new one is fun at first, but if you’re growing a business or career, it pulls focus.
• You spend hours researching, booking, checking flights, and scanning Airbnb and hostels.
• You sometimes get stuck—without water, overstaying a visa, mixing up dates, dealing with bureaucracy, or small emergencies.

The more you travel, the more things come up.

And all of that energy?

It gets pulled away from what matters—

From building your business.

From being consistent in your work.

From investing in relationships with people who could actually become part of your long-term life.

The Instagram Trap

The digital nomad dream is beautiful.

But it’s also curated.

We don’t talk about the 3 AM meltdowns in hostel kitchens.

We don’t post the moments where we question everything.

We just show the views.

The WiFi cafés.

The sunshine.

But freedom without grounding becomes a performance.

And performance—especially online—is exhausting.

At some point, you stop living.

You start documenting.

You feel like a brand.

I’ve asked myself more than once:

Did I actually enjoy that sunset, or was I just performing for the algorithm?

Don’t buy into the Instagram travel influencer hype.

The real freedom isn’t in where you go.

It’s in how honest you’re willing to be with yourself along the way.

What Shifted in Pisac

This time, I stayed.

I didn’t jump to the next country.

I didn’t chase the next view.

I let myself slow down, sleep more, and reconnect with my own rhythm.

I walked the same trail every day.

I got to know my neighbors.

I worked less and felt more.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to prove anything.

Because here’s the thing—

This lifestyle can be beautiful.

But it can’t replace inner clarity.

It can’t give you meaning.

You have to bring that with you.

If You’re a Remote Worker or Traveler, Try This

There’s always a balance.

The answer isn’t to stop traveling completely.

And it’s not to keep moving forever.

You can make it work—with intention.

That might look like:

• Having a few home bases
• Planning your movement in advance
• Staying longer in one place
• Creating slow seasons in between launch seasons

1️⃣ Start your mornings offline

Sit by a window.

Make a warm drink.

Ask yourself: What do I actually need today?

Not what would look good in a story.

2️⃣ Choose something constant

A book. A walk. A simple prayer.

Create a touchpoint you can return to every day, no matter the city.

3️⃣ Track what nourishes you

Not just how productive you are—

But how peaceful, grounded, or alive you feel.

4️⃣ Share less, live more

Keep some things sacred.

Let a few sunsets belong only to you.

Final Thoughts

You can travel the world and still feel lost.

You can build a seven-figure company and still be looking for a home.

You can look like you’re thriving and still be quietly unraveling.

And maybe that’s the lesson:

Home isn’t a country.

It’s a feeling.

It’s a rhythm.

It’s a choice to stop running and return to yourself.

Wherever you are—make space to root.